Your baby was born. Your baby died. And the world around you began, almost immediately, to look away.
If you have been through a stillbirth, you may already know this particular loneliness - people who love you struggling to say the words, conversations that bend carefully around the one thing that matters most.
Your story did not end when you left the hospital. It lives in you. And every birth story deserves to be heard - a silent birth is a birth story.
What can support after a silent birth actually look like?
Not advice. Not steps. Not a program with stages you are supposed to complete.
The support I offer is listening - a kind of listening you may not have met before. You tell your story, all of it, and it is received with believing, curious ears. No judgment. No corrections. No glancing at the clock.
It is not a miracle. It is not magic. It is simply a safe space of real listening. And something about being truly heard, maybe for the first time since it happened, lets something inside release, open, calm.
I know this space from both sides. I went through a silent birth of my own, in my sixth month, and that experience led me to this work.
Why does your story deserve space for as long as it needs?
Because there is no hierarchy of suffering. And there is no schedule for it either.
Maybe your loss was recent, and everyone is still holding you. Maybe it was years ago, and the world has quietly decided you should be “over it” by now - so you learned to keep the story inside. Both of you are welcome here. It is never too late.
You may need to tell the story once. You may need to tell it twenty times, and notice it soften a little in the telling. There is no correct number of times. The story takes the space it takes.
And it deserves to be told whole. Not just the polished version people can bear to hear - the whole one. The moments you have never said out loud. The thoughts you are afraid make you a bad person. They do not. They make you a woman who lived through something enormous.
What if my story feels like “too much” - or “not enough”?
Some women apologize before they even begin. “I don’t want to burden you.” “Other women have it worse.” “Maybe I should be past this.”
Let me take those off the table. There is no competition over who “deserves” this space. Your loss does not need to be ranked, justified, or compared to anyone else’s. It happened to you. That is enough.
And if you feel numb instead of tearful - if the feelings sit somewhere out of reach - that belongs here too. Numbness is not the absence of a story. Sometimes it is the story, waiting.
What does feeling whole alongside the loss mean?
Let me first say what it does not mean. It does not mean getting over it, moving on, or leaving your baby behind. No part of this work asks you to love less or remember less.
The loss is real, and it stays real. What can change is how much room the rest of you gets - whether grief has to press against every single hour, or whether it can hold a true, honored place inside a life that also has room for other things.
Wholeness alongside the loss. Not instead of it. Your baby remains part of your story, because your baby is part of your story.
You are not alone. There is a way to feel whole again.
How do online sessions make support reachable in the rawest weeks?
In the rawest weeks after a silent birth, the outside world can feel like a minefield. Online support removes the parts that make reaching out impossible:
- No leaving the house. You do not have to get dressed for the world, drive anywhere, or sit in a waiting room.
- No painful encounters on the way. Home spares you the pregnant bellies and the newborn strollers that can knock the breath out of you.
- Your own safe corner. Your couch, your blanket, your tissues, a door you can close.
- Your language, your time zone. Sessions in English or Hebrew, wherever in the world you are.
If crying takes over mid-sentence, we sit with it. If you need to stop, we stop. The screen does not weaken any of this - deep listening works on Zoom exactly as it does in a room.
Where does professional grief care fit?
One thing I want to say plainly, because your wellbeing matters more than anything else on this page.
Birth processing is emotional accompaniment - a listening space. It is not psychological or medical treatment. If the ground has given way under you, and getting through an ordinary day feels impossible, professional grief or mental health care belongs right beside a space like this. Reaching for it is not failure. The two do not compete, and many women hold both at once.
If you want to understand this work more before deciding anything, start with what birth processing is, or see how I work.
If something is asking to be heard, I am here
Your story - the whole story, not the short version - deserves space, for as long as it needs.
A 20-minute intro call, free, with no commitment. You do not have to prepare anything or decide anything. I am here.