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I recently attended a webinar on grief in the workplace, facilitated by Grief First Aid, and it prompted a deeper reflection on how loss is carried into professional spaces. Grief does not remain neatly outside the office door. It arrives with people, sits quietly beside them, and often goes unseen or unspoken. I recalled how it was for my husband to go back to work carrying his grief over the death of our daughter, and I wondered if, 22 years later, whether anything had chan

Honouring Grief for Couples and Sole Parents This reflection is written primarily for couples who are in relationship together and who may still engage with Valentines Day in its traditional sense. At the same time, it is important to name that sole parents, and those grieving without a partner alongside them, carry the same depth of love, attachment and heartbreak. The loss of a baby during pregnancy or shortly after birth holds equal weight, regardless of relationship statu

When I was in high school in the UK, one of my teachers (Mr Leonard) shared something personal that stayed with me. He said that he not only loved his wife, but that he genuinely liked her. He spoke about friendship as the backbone of their relationship. At the time, it felt simple. Over the years, I have come to understand how quietly profound that idea really is. When Care Remains but Connection Fades In my work with couples, I often meet people who care deeply about one an

This blog is a little late. And honestly, that still feels right. Each January arrives with a familiar cultural rhythm. Conversations fill with words chosen to carry the year ahead with focus, intention, growth, softness, courage, alignment. For some, choosing a word for the year feels steadying or hopeful. For others, it can quietly introduce a sense of pressure, a feeling that clarity should already be present, that we should know who we are becoming or what we are aiming f

Why it’s ok to feel Joy at Christmas For many people who live alongside the death of someone they love, there’s an unspoken rule that grief should hurt  - especially at Christmas - like there’s an expectation that grief should be front and centre of your life, forever.  But…over time…something quietly is taking place. You notice yourself laughing. You enjoy the taste of food. You feel present and more connected to life. You may even realise that your loved one is not at the f

Untangling The Tinsel Tango Together As the year edges toward Christmas, many of us find ourselves pulled between excitement, stress, nostalgia, and the weight of “so much to do.”   For many, the holidays can bring joy and connection - but possibly also financial pressure, disrupted routines, school holiday stress, family tension, loneliness, or the ache of missing loved ones who are overseas or no longer here. In the middle of all of this, it’s easy for our intimate relation

When I speak openly about pregnancy after stillbirth and miscarriage, people sometimes hear a story with a beginning, middle, and hopeful end. What is harder to see is the decades in between - the raw, unfiltered years where nothing felt resolved, where my nervous system was stretched thin, and where my relationship with my body, mind, and the people I loved was constantly being rewritten. I’m 21 years  from my first birth trauma now. Twenty-one years from the day everything

There are many things’ people don’t tell you about grief, but one of the hardest truths is this: after someone you love dies, your life becomes threaded with The Terrible Maths. You count everything.  Not out of choice, not out of ritual - but because time suddenly becomes the only thing tying you to them, and yet it also becomes the thing taking you further away. Time seems to change You mark the minutes , because in the beginning that’s all you can do. Minutes since you la

What especially resonates with me about grief is the part about crying. You know, those moments when tears just appear, and your first instinct - or maybe someone else’s - is to hand over a tissue. We do it because we care, right? But sometimes what we’re really saying, without even meaning to, is: “Don’t cry.” “Please stop - this feels uncomfortable.” Tears aren't weakness And here’s the thing: crying is one of the most human, sacred, and physiologically wise things we can d