“I came to realize that it was not scientific facts of loss that I sought, but the emotional knowledge of how to navigate the darkness of grief that would offer me clarity and healing.”

After years of navigating various autoimmune disorders and chronic pain, I discovered that I was unable to have children. Whether becoming a parent was a dream or a wonder, in a moment, the decision was taken away. I was floored. I felt like my body continued to fail me, and that I too, had somehow failed. I felt lost, confused and rarely spoke of it. I was grieving and felt very much alone and in the dark.

Research had typically been my answer to everything, and when the opportunity arose to work with one of the largest fertility clinics in the GTA, I accepted. It was a chance to better understand what had happened to my body as well as to support others. Here, I discovered countless people who were navigating their own complex journeys of (in)fertility. I found myself sitting with people who were being prepped for their termination procedures (or rather, what one person called their “impossible decision”). They were often alone, anxious, overwhelmed; they would ask me to hold their hand while they spoke in hushed tones of their heavy hearts.

My time at the fertility clinic showed me layers of grief that are often minimized or overlooked by society. And after the long, labored death of a loved one, I came to realize that it was not scientific facts of loss that I sought in either situation, but the emotional knowledge of how to navigate the darkness of grief that would offer me clarity and healing.

I headed north, where the nights are long, light is fleeting, and snow covers all. In a small cabin in the woods, I took stock. I explored my sense of loss. I stepped into my grief. In the exquisite ice-locked landscape, in the perfect silences and endless nights, I found a new way through. I trained to become an End-of-Life Doula, answering my calling to support others in finding their bearings through grief. On this path I have found great wisdom, resources, and the power of human connection.

I joined community hospice and support those who are close to death, and the beautiful people who love them. Through Sick Kids hospital training, I became a children’s grief and bereavement support, helping tiny humans and their families navigate difficult roads. I furthered my studies with David Kessler, learning from his vast experience, to become a Grief Educator. And, coming full circle, I became a pregnancy and infant loss guide, supporting others who are experiencing infertility and loss surrounding pregnancy.

Along this journey, I have come to see the beauty and knowledge in the winters of my life, and I am grateful to walk alongside others as they navigate the storm, begin to nurture the seeds of self and community, and emerge from the long winter of grief.