Then one night, my phone froze, turned black, and never turned on again. Naturally, I panicked and tried every trick I could to revive it. The next two days brought snowstorms, so getting a new phone wasn't on the agenda. Besides, by the second day, I didn't really feel the need to go get a new phone. I found that without the steady ping of notifications I was able to truly enjoy my free time. Responding to e-mails right away seemed less urgent, especially when I didn't see them come through instantly on my phone. I felt free.
Maybe it's your own grandmother who never spoke about it. A friend of a friend. Another mom in your child's class. Or maybe you're the one in four who has experienced pregnancy loss. For me, it's all of the above. I never imagined I would be a part of this particular mom's club — the one where we lost a baby we loved but never met. The club that has us silently grieving years after the loss, while everyone else has forgotten.
Since it was time to register the children for the following school year, I became even more confused and emotional about what would be best for him. How could I send him back to preschool without truly knowing what he understood, where he fell in the classroom lineup, or where he would be with his speech therapy. It just didn't feel right. While brainstorming ideas, a thought came to me: What if he repeated the 3-year-old class? It may sound odd to hold a toddler back in preschool. But for my son, it was a pivotal choice.