The DBC

Tonight I'm headed to support group, otherwise known as the DBC, the Dead Baby Club. We don't call ourselves that all the time, just when we're joking around a bit. I'm not talking about a funny-haha joke, but a bitter joke's-on-me-actually type of joke.

And honestly, I think it is the total embodiment of my group. It captures the rawness of our emotions and who we all are now; childless parents grieving and trying to survive in a society that doesn't acknowledge the fact that my baby died or that I'm still (and probably forever) grieving. The DBC is in-your-face real when most other names like support group are sort of hush hush.

Once a month I meet with others like myself, though all our stories are very different, and we sympathize and empathize with each other like no one else we know outside the DBC can. Some if these people will become very near and dear friends as we support each other in our efforts to keep living life and trying to have hope for a brighter future. And I sincerely hope I can there for them as they are for me in our times of need.

I got a lotta love to give.