HeyJaredCan't Cope: Honest Words for Deep Grief
Lyrical memoir and personal essays from a bereaved mother bearing witness to infant loss and grief that doesn’t resolve.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 11
- Latest publication
- Sep 24, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 5, 2026
Latest issues
To My Daughter (opens the original)
Read excerpt
{September 24, 2024}Jem Jam,I hope you know how special you are, how unique—how vastly loved.I woke up to 34 texts from people who were thinking about you today, on your first birthday - and that was only the beginning. You are immensely missed by so many and by us, your parents. I so badly want you to know what being loved by us feels like.I hope you do.I think you do.<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!hfsC!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressi
Before She Died (Part 2) (opens the original)
Read excerpt
What I wouldn’t give to go back to September 2023, sitting in the hospital with fairy lights and hope.(Find part 1 to this story here)It was Tuesday, September 5th, when we finally found out our baby was, in fact, a girl -through genetic testing. Due to the lack of amniotic fluid, none of the scans were clear enough to make her gender known prior to that point.I had honestly known who she was from the beginning, already calling her “Jemma” in my mind. We had decided not to fully commit to a name
Before She Died (Part 1) (opens the original)
Read excerpt
My hospital room was bigger and warmer than I anticipated.If you kept the overhead lighting off and a couple lamps on, it could actually feel a little cozy.There was even a Murphy bed for my husband to sleep on. God forbid he have to curl up on one of those tiny hospital recliners.The nurses were kind—actual super heroes in my opinion.I was 23 weeks pregnant and the plan was that I would live in the hospital for as long as possible—ideally until I was 37 weeks along.That would be three months. T
Who am I now? (opens the original)
Read excerpt
If I’m not a mother of living children, who am I?If I’m not crushing it in an established career, who am I?If I’m not giving my life away to people in need, who am I?If I’m not an attractive twenty-something, who am I?Who am I?<source
Stop telling grievers they just need time (opens the original)
Read excerpt
“I wish people knew that grief doesn’t go away.”—A phrase I’ve heard from many grievers over the years.Somewhere along the way, our culture has adopted this lie that time heals all wounds.“Give it time.”“This too shall pass.”“It won’t be this hard forever.”All things I used to believe before the darkest grief came knocking on my door.The kind of grief that can’t be put in a box and shoved in the closet.The grief that screams at me every day, first thing in the morning, reminding me that I won’t
Publishing over time
Last 90 days. Choose a month to open its work.
Recurring subjects
Named in the text we hold. One piece can cover several.
Audience
No verified audience measurement yet.
About this data
Counts cover the work we have indexed. Tone needs enough text and a confident classification. Excerpts and episode notes are not full articles or transcripts.
Identity or attribution wrong? Suggest a correction.