Pinecrest Lake 1 - Feature
Pinecrest Lake, Pinecrest, California (Miranda Hernandez)

26 Feb 2018 – The Nuclear Bomb

I call it the nuclear bomb. It’s a weapon. It’s the thing I want to tell but not to say. It’s the thing nobody wants to know.

Life on a New Layer

I guess something I knew but didn’t realize was that there would be so many new people here. I guess something I knew but didn’t realize was that I was going to have to start making choices. Who am I now? What do I say? What do I want people to see?

I bought myself a coffee mug that says “Mama Bear”. Underneath it says, “Est in 2017”. I love it, but I’m also scared of it. I’m scared of these awkward conversations. I’m scared to point out to someone who has been so very helpful that I already am a mother, that the phrase “will be” has no place here.

I feel like I got here through stubbornness. Statistically, most women don’t choose like me. Statistically, I should have been married with 2.3 kids at least five years ago. My path isn’t typical, but it’s what I chose. It’s mine.

I live in a world where I used to be someone. I had a good record, and of course a few faults. But I was on a track, I was living a purpose. And everything now is just — different.

I sat down with my new supervisor when I got here. I thought it was something he should know. I still have trouble saying the words. It will always feel like a nuclear bomb.

And here is where it becomes interesting. What is the first thing that people say? Do they ask about him? Do they change the subject? Do they apologize, as if they are somehow at fault? Is it my turn to comfort them, or will I ever be comforted?

I wonder what people see when they look at me. I wonder what image I present to the world. I wonder what it would feel like to work that crazy schedule again, and still be me, still feeling so empty. I wonder what it would be like to greet the day with anything like that old excitement.

I’ve often said that those of us who have experienced tragedy live in a new layer of existence. It’s the thing that defines us now, that marks this transition to this separate world. And I almost said “different” there instead of “separate,” but this is another defining characteristic; because the only thing that is different is each of us. Because we are a world inside of a world, and we are the only ones who know.

But sometimes, there are windows. Sometimes, people find them and start to peer within. And we have the choice to welcome them, but it’s always with a bang. Because you can’t slip inside this club unnoticed. You can’t join this world without some sort of initiation. And all of us who are already members genuinely hope that you don’t have to know this experience. But if you don’t, then you have to hear about it, and it’s always like dropping a bomb.

I am a mother. I have a son. My son is dead. This is my world.

Related Posts:

Miranda’s Chronological Story: Coming Alive Again
Topics Page: Grief Positivity
Topics Page: People & Relationships
Letters to Adrian: Tue, Aug 22, 2017 at 9:50 PM
Write Your Grief: Nuclear Bomb (Part 2)
Miranda’s Blog: I am a Mother

Posts written in response to prompts from Megan Devine’s Refuge in Grief writing program.
Return to Write Your Grief Homepage

Share this post via:

Matthiola flowers on the California coast (Miranda Hernandez)

26 Sep 2018 – Dear Grace

Sunlight through the trees, North Lake Tahoe, California (Miranda Hernandez)

25 Aug 2018 – Amy Anne

Miranda on the California coast (Miranda Hernandez)

28 May 2018 – Planet Miranda

A seagull over the Pacific Ocean - Feature

9 Feb 2018 – No

Close up of Miranda and Adrian in the hospital after Adrian's birth. Both of their eyes are closed, and Miranda is holding Adrian's hand

6 Feb 2018 – Regret

Memories (Write Your Grief) | overlaid on image of Miranda on the California coast at sunset (Synch Media)

18 Feb 2018 – Memories

Sunset over the Pacific 1 - Feature

26 Feb 2018 – Nuclear Bomb Part 2

Sleeping Giant Trail 1 - Feature

25 Feb 2018 – That Day

24 March 2021 – Emulation

4 April 2021 – Memories Part 2

A Letter to My Belly (Write Your Grief) | overlaid on image of Miranda making a heart on her belly (Synch Media)

24 Feb 2018 – A Letter to My Belly after the Stillbirth of my Firstborn Child

Limp hand holding a cell phone

26 Mar 2019 – The Worst Thing that Never Happened

Keālia Beach 1 - Feature

8 Feb 2018 – Prickly

Miranda on the shore of Lake Tahoe, California (photo used with permission)

23 Aug 2018 – Windows

Chalk drawings on the sidewalk (Miranda Hernandez)

18 Mar 2018 – Someone Else’s Birthday

Birds on the Pacific Coast in California - Feature

22 Feb 2018 – Fuck

The first blanket and baby toy Miranda purchased for Peanut (Miranda Hernandez)

29 Oct 2018 – Baby Things

Title: Grief is a Mother, Too | overlaid on an image of Miranda and Elephant on the coast at sunset (Synch Media)

2 Feb 2018 – Grief is a Mother, Too

North Star Resort - Feature

20 Feb 2018 – Flight

Hiking the Sleeping Giant Trail, Kapaa, Kaua'i, Hawai'i

3 Feb 2018 – The Kindest Thing

22 March 2021 – Kindness…

Title: My Personal Experience with Grief | overlaid on an image of Miranda in Kaua'i (Luna Kai Photography)

29 Jan 2018 – Grief

18 March 2021 – What I Wish You Knew

Wide angle view of Miranda standing on a deserted beach in California at sunset. She is wearing a pink kimono fluttering in the breeze (Synch Media)

30 Jan 2018 – The Second Death

Miranda with Adrian's First Blanket - SQ

2 Feb 2018 – Elephant Onesies

31 March 2021 – Clarity

Sunset on the California coast (Miranda Hernandez)

2 Jun 2018 – Peace

27 March 2021 – Community

30 March 2021 – Subsumed Grief

Sunset over the California desert, with highway signs in the distance (Miranda Hernandez)

1 Feb 2018 – Photos

Title: A Letter to My Fellow Bereaved | overlaid on an image of the California coast (Miranda Hernandez)

18 Feb 2018 – I Love You

Palm trees over the Pacific Ocean - Feature

7 Feb 2018 – Beauty

26 March 2021 – Landscape

Julia Pfeiffer Burns Plant1 - Feature

7 Feb 2018 – Tests

Tree branch in California - Feature

5 Feb 2018 – Akhilandeshvari

20 March 2021 – The Absence of Memory

Seagulls on the California coast (Miranda Hernandez)

27 May 2018 – Fairytales

Keālia Beach 2 - Feature

20 Feb 2018 – Unspoken

A Letter from the In-Between (Write Your Grief) | overlaid on image of Miranda staring off into the distance (Synch Media)

28 Jul 2018 – A Letter from the In-Between

Amy's collar (Miranda Hernandez)

12 Sep 2018 – Three Dishes

Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, Big Sur, California (Miranda Hernandez)

22 May 2018 – I only write to ghosts. You must be one of them.

31 Jan 2018 – Choice

19 March 2021 – Where I Live Now

Miranda on the Pacific Coast 2 - Feature

10 Feb 2018 – This is How I Feel About Life

21 March 2021 – Does Grief Mourn?

Lakeside in Incline Village 3

14 Feb 2018 – I love you. Please.

Sunset over Arizona - Feature

12 Feb 2018 – Hard Things

Lakeside in Incline Village, North Lake Tahoe, Nevada (Miranda Hernandez)

13 Feb 2018 – The Condition of My Heart

Incline Village, North Lake Tahoe - Feature

20 Feb 2018 – Time

30 March 2021 – The 13th Guest

17 March 2021 – Who I Used to Be

Miranda on the California coast (Synch Media)

21 Jun 2018 – The After

24 March 2021 – The One I Avoided Last Time

Explore more of Adrian's Elephant

Scroll to Top