I teared up right when I read “from your daughter”. What a gift for her to be there with you all in that perfect moment, as an answered prayer. Witnessing your path in awe, beauty. Cheers to the glorious aliveness 🪻🌷🌸
I’ve followed you for a while. I’m sure you receive messages like this often, but something in me felt today was the right time to say hello.
I truly believe we follow people for deeper reasons than just scrolling or algorithms. I’ve always felt connected to your words, like they were meant to cross my path.
I found your page (on IG) during a time of change—when I decided my future would be country, not city; barefoot, not heels; happy, not controlled. your page was like a glimpse into the future I want.
But then I found your writing.
I’ve been writing since my parents divorced when I was 14. It’s the one thing that has always helped me feel understood, held, and whole.
About a year and a half ago, I lost my gran—the first deep grief I had ever experienced. I found myself returning to your “grief” highlight again and again. Your words, your honesty, held me.
The morning of her funeral, I turned on my phone and saw your post about your sweet Aliyah. I cried, hard. My boyfriend held me, and he cried too. Up until that point, you had been a stranger—but grief turns strangers into something else, something sacred.
Whenever I spoke to my gran, or prayed, or meditated, I found myself sending a message to your baby girl too.
now, I’m about to turn 21. Joe and I are deeply in love -a love that feels like it belongs in a film. I imagine you understand that kind of story.
In February, we found out we were pregnant—surprised, overwhelmed, a little scared. But once we told our families, it all started to make sense. We were made for this. We were ready, even if we hadn’t known it yet.
Then, in March, I found out I had a blighted ovum.
You hear about miscarriage, but nothing prepares you for the experience.
It’s not just grief. It’s an unraveling.
So I guess this message is really to say thank you.
Thank you for not letting grief silence you or stop you from trying again.
Thank you for showing others that hope can exist alongside heartbreak.
Thank you for reminding me that dancing with grief is still a kind of living.
Some days, the idea of trying again feels impossible.
But then I open Instagram and see you—your radiant energy, your family, your presence—and I feel hope return. Not in a loud way, but in the quiet way that matters most.
Oh Chrissy 😭 Wow. Tears come to my eyes receiving this stunning comment.. thank you thank you thank you. To hold hands in our grief across screens and even states is so powerful. I’m deeply touched that my writing has been a hand to hold in some way.. I pray that you are turning towards the pen as you sit and feel your grief. I know what you write will be very special as it’s so raw. I’m so deeply sorry for your losses, and I pray that light and joy come flooding back in when you least expect it, as it did for me. Sending love dear one ❤️
Thank you for putting grief into poetry into prose. Thank you for testimonies so sorely needed, medicine for souls. Thank you for being thankful every chance you get. Thank you for giving what you get to us little by little, sweet and salty, drop by drop, each day you can.
The wee bouquet 🥲 what a sweet girl you have looking over you and all around you 💗 and what a profound connection you all have to each other and to God. Blessings!!
As someone who has known immense loss as well as the sweet, soft joy of a little one, your words always mean so much. Thank you for sharing your heart here. Simply beautiful and soulful pieces every single time. 🤎
As per usual tears streaming down my face because I understand your words with my whole heart 🤍🤍🤍
Thank you for reading sweet Melissa 🙏🏻
Same💛
Chills.
Thank you Veda ❤️
I teared up right when I read “from your daughter”. What a gift for her to be there with you all in that perfect moment, as an answered prayer. Witnessing your path in awe, beauty. Cheers to the glorious aliveness 🪻🌷🌸
Thank you love ❤️ grateful for your witnessing
So in awe at how can God turn grief into so much light 🌼
Truly miraculous! So excited for your little light to arrive here soon ❤️
Hey Rohini,
I’ve followed you for a while. I’m sure you receive messages like this often, but something in me felt today was the right time to say hello.
I truly believe we follow people for deeper reasons than just scrolling or algorithms. I’ve always felt connected to your words, like they were meant to cross my path.
I found your page (on IG) during a time of change—when I decided my future would be country, not city; barefoot, not heels; happy, not controlled. your page was like a glimpse into the future I want.
But then I found your writing.
I’ve been writing since my parents divorced when I was 14. It’s the one thing that has always helped me feel understood, held, and whole.
About a year and a half ago, I lost my gran—the first deep grief I had ever experienced. I found myself returning to your “grief” highlight again and again. Your words, your honesty, held me.
The morning of her funeral, I turned on my phone and saw your post about your sweet Aliyah. I cried, hard. My boyfriend held me, and he cried too. Up until that point, you had been a stranger—but grief turns strangers into something else, something sacred.
Whenever I spoke to my gran, or prayed, or meditated, I found myself sending a message to your baby girl too.
now, I’m about to turn 21. Joe and I are deeply in love -a love that feels like it belongs in a film. I imagine you understand that kind of story.
In February, we found out we were pregnant—surprised, overwhelmed, a little scared. But once we told our families, it all started to make sense. We were made for this. We were ready, even if we hadn’t known it yet.
Then, in March, I found out I had a blighted ovum.
You hear about miscarriage, but nothing prepares you for the experience.
It’s not just grief. It’s an unraveling.
So I guess this message is really to say thank you.
Thank you for not letting grief silence you or stop you from trying again.
Thank you for showing others that hope can exist alongside heartbreak.
Thank you for reminding me that dancing with grief is still a kind of living.
Some days, the idea of trying again feels impossible.
But then I open Instagram and see you—your radiant energy, your family, your presence—and I feel hope return. Not in a loud way, but in the quiet way that matters most.
Thank you, Rohini.
Truly.
Please keep being exactly who you are. ❤️
Oh Chrissy 😭 Wow. Tears come to my eyes receiving this stunning comment.. thank you thank you thank you. To hold hands in our grief across screens and even states is so powerful. I’m deeply touched that my writing has been a hand to hold in some way.. I pray that you are turning towards the pen as you sit and feel your grief. I know what you write will be very special as it’s so raw. I’m so deeply sorry for your losses, and I pray that light and joy come flooding back in when you least expect it, as it did for me. Sending love dear one ❤️
Thank you for putting grief into poetry into prose. Thank you for testimonies so sorely needed, medicine for souls. Thank you for being thankful every chance you get. Thank you for giving what you get to us little by little, sweet and salty, drop by drop, each day you can.
What a beautiful comment, thank you so much Doug 🙏🏻
The wee bouquet 🥲 what a sweet girl you have looking over you and all around you 💗 and what a profound connection you all have to each other and to God. Blessings!!
As someone who has known immense loss as well as the sweet, soft joy of a little one, your words always mean so much. Thank you for sharing your heart here. Simply beautiful and soulful pieces every single time. 🤎