Reflections On The Little Life, Big Loss Book Launch
On Tuesday July 14, 2026, “Little Life, Big Loss - Where Love Continues Beyond the Heartbeat” was released into the world — a collection of stories from parents who have lost children, including mine, Josiah. This is my reflection on what it's felt like since.
Six months ago, I said yes to telling Josiah’s story in a book, alongside 22 other women who had experienced pregnancy and baby loss. I share more about why I said yes in my previous post. Six months after that ‘yes’, I received the physical copy of the book. Seeing it in print for the first time — undid me. Tears sprang to my eyes as I lifted it from its packaging. Here it was. Josiah's name, Josiah's story, in print, forever out there in the world. And the irony wasn't lost on me: more than anything, I wanted to show it to him.
Then came the crash. The day the book was officially released, I sat down to write to Josiah that night, and it hit me like a freight train. No matter what we do, he will never be here. I was right back at the beginning — the pain ripping through my heart and body as I gasped for breath through the sobs.
The book launch event brought us to the Gold Coast, alongside so many of the other authors. It was held at a venue called, fittingly, The Collective — a collective of stories, of families, of parents who had lost children, coming together to create something bigger than any of us could have made alone.
Meeting the other authors felt instant — connection, shared understanding, the quiet recognition of people who had built something together without ever having met. They'd come from all walks of life, from every corner of Australia and beyond.
I met other bereaved parents too — people who had bravely come along seeking community. Some had lost their babies years before; others, just weeks earlier. I felt honoured to sit with them, to hear their stories, to speak the names of their children.
There was an overwhelming sense of pride in what we had all achieved — the legacy we had created for our children.
We came together and held space for one another, held space for the stories of our babies. We spoke their names.
We spoke of what we had lost, but also of what we had gained — the community and friendships found in the darkest of times, the inspiration and purpose we'd drawn from our little ones' lives, however brief. We spoke of our learnings and our experiences, hoping our words would be a gentle comfort, a guiding light, a validation for others just beginning this harrowing path.
My heart was so full. We had done it. And how special it was.
I hope these stories find their way into the hands of the people who need them — those who need to feel less alone, who are desperate to be seen in their grief, and who are quietly asking the question we have all asked: will I survive this?
If this speaks to you, Little Life, Big Loss is available now — you can find it here.
Click here to watch a recap of the event put together by the incredible House of Figs.