I Forgot My Son’s 8th Birthday While Grieving My Miscarriage—Then a Gift From My Dead Mother Revealed She Had Planned for My Darkest Day

between us. “In a way,” I said. “I think he always will be.” That night, after Toby went to bed, I returned to the attic and looked at the empty cedar chest again. For the first time, it didn’t look like something had been taken from me. It looked like something had been given. I realized then that grief had blinded me to the support system that was continue reading …