The Worst Club with the Best Members

Today, I went to a group of mothers who have all experienced the unimaginable—the loss of a child. It was the first time in over a year and a half that I didn’t feel the need to keep my guard up. For the first time in so long, I could just be. There was no hiding my pain, no stepping out to the car to quietly fall apart and then pulling myself back together before returning. I didn’t have to soften my grief to make it more comfortable for others, or be strong for the children watching me. It was just me, surrounded by women who understood without explanation—who carry the same kind of love and loss. And in that space, I felt a sense of peace I didn’t realize I had been missing.

The Round Table

Today, I sat with women

who carry their children

the way I carry Erin—

not in our arms,

but in every breath we take.

There was no round table between us,

no perfect circle to gather around,

but you could feel it—

that unseen shape

holding us together.

A circle formed not by wood or chairs,

but by understanding.

By loss.

By love that never left.

We did not need introductions to understand.

Our hearts spoke first.

In the quiet glances,

in the tears that didn’t need hiding,

in the way no one looked away.

For so long,

I have hidden my grief—

crying in bathrooms,

in parked cars,

wiping my face before rejoining a world

that doesn’t know what to do with it.

I have kept moving,

kept doing,

afraid that if I stopped,

the weight of missing Erin

would pull me under.

But today…

I let it surface.

And no one flinched.

Because they knew.

They knew the silence

that follows laughter.

They knew the ache

of saying a child’s name

into a space that cannot answer back.

They knew Erin—

not by meeting her,

but by knowing this kind of love,

this kind of loss.

And for the first time,

I was not being watched

with uncertainty or pity.

I was understood.

A mother,

still loving her child,

just in a different way now.

We didn’t sit at a round table today—

but the circle was there.

You could feel it

in every shared word,

every tear,

every quiet nod that said,

me too.

And somehow,

in that unseen circle,

I set down a piece of my guard…

and found

I didn’t have to carry it alone.