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Her Love is Everywhere
Every day, I carry her with me. In the quiet moments, in the spaces between the chaos, I feel her.
She is not gone; her love lingers. It surrounds me, steady and gentle, like the softest whisper reminding me that she is still here.
Some days, the weight feels too heavy, like I might sink under it completely. But then I pause, and I remember her—the way she came into this world so perfect, so still. She brought a love so profound that it continues to teach me. It moves through me, finding its way into the smallest, most unexpected moments: a quiet sunrise, the laughter of her siblings, a memory that catches me when I least expect it.
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You are not alone
When my daughter, Anna Sophia Rose, was stillborn, the world I knew fell apart.
There were no words, no books, and no guidance that spoke to my experience—the silence of her absence and the weight of the love I still held for her.
I searched for something that didn’t exist: a place where grief and love could sit side by side, where my pain felt understood, and where I could breathe without pretending everything was okay.
This website is what I wish I had. It is my way of honouring Anna Sophia Rose and creating something that might bring comfort to you, as you walk through your own heartbreak.
I share my story, my love, and my lessons—not because I have it all figured out, but because I want you to know that grief doesn’t have to be a lonely place.
Here, you will find stories that don’t shy away from the darkness. You will find words that hold space for your pain. And you will find gentle reminders that even in the midst of unimaginable loss, there is still love. There is always love.
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Grief transforms your world in ways you never expected. It makes even the smallest tasks feel insurmountable. When Anna Sophia Rose passed, I found myself asking one question over and over again: “Will this pain ever stop?” The answer is yes; you will heal. Not all at once, not in a linear path, but in your own time and your own way. This journey is uniquely yours, and there is no map to follow.
This website is for those moments. It is a space where you can let go of pretending. A space where you can bring your love and your sadness together without shame or guilt. Whether you are at the beginning of your grief or years into carrying its weight, you are welcome here. There are no right answers here, no timelines for your healing. There is only understanding, gentleness, and a reminder that you are not walking this path alone.
A loving space for grief, healing, and hope.
When Anna Sophia Rose came into our lives, she brought a love so deep it changed everything. Her presence was brief, but her impact was profound.
This space was born out of that love—out of the longing to honor her life and the need to create something I couldn’t find when I needed it most: a place that feels gentle, soft, and safe. Here, there is no rush. There are no answers you’re expected to find. There is only a quiet place to rest your heart and to know that you are not alone. This is for you—the mother, the father, the friend—navigating the unthinkable, wondering how to breathe again, how to live when life feels shattered.
If you’re here, I see you. I feel you. And I hope, even for a moment, you feel held too.
I wish for us all to share our true voices and find support in your healing. Your tears are just as welcome as your giggles
About Cindy
This is the "about me" text I never saw myself writing when I was pregnant of our beautiful daughter Anna Sophia Rose.
Nobody prepares you for the heartbreak of a lifetime.
Our baby girl died the night before her birth and never got to experience life outside of my womb. Stillbirth, you don't get prepared for it and you will have to find your way while following your own journey as a family.
This blog is for Anna Sophia Rose, for me and for you when you landed here.
I wish for us all to share our true voices and find support in your healing. Your tears are just as welcome as your giggles, because there is and will always be light. As hard as it might feel now and still will at times, there will always be light, hope and lots of love.
Cindy x
Losing a child breaks your heart in places you never knew existed. In the depth of this heartbreak, you will find love you never knew existed.
Grief can feel like a vast, endless ocean—one you never asked to be in. Some days, the waves are gentle; other days, they knock you over and pull you under. I have learned that the only way to survive this ocean is to keep moving, to keep breathing, and to let the waves come as they will.
On this blog, I share my story and the lessons I’ve learned through the heartbreak of losing Anna Sophia Rose. These are not stories of answers or solutions, but of moments—raw, real, and honest—that reflect the love, loss, and quiet healing that come with living through grief.
Each post is a reminder that while grief can feel isolating, you are not alone. There are others who understand the ache in your heart and the questions that keep you awake at night. My hope is that these words meet you where you are and offer the smallest light to hold onto.
Even in grief, love remains. It’s the thread that connects you to the person you’ve lost, the light that guides you through the darkest days. Let love lead you. Let it remind you of the beauty you’ve known, the strength you hold, and the hope that still exists.
If you are here, I want you to know this: Your love matters. Your grief matters. And even in the hardest moments, you will find strength you didn’t know you had. Let this space be one of comfort, one where you can sit with your sadness, honor your love, and know that healing is not about forgetting—it’s about finding a way to carry both love and loss forward, together.
In the first weeks of my grief, I searched desperately for something to help me feel even a little more grounded—something to hold onto when I felt like I was drowning. I’ve gathered the tools I wish I had, and I share them here in the hope that they might offer you the same small moments of calm they gave me.
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