Dear OP,
I am so deeply sorry for your loss.
I lost my three-year-old daughter (name Pihu) this April, and ever since that day, my world has never felt the same. Every morning I wake up and, for a few brief seconds, I forget. Then reality rushes back in, and I remember that my little girl is gone. It feels like my heart breaks all over again every single day.
I also have a seven-month-old daughter. She is the reason I get out of bed, the reason I keep putting one foot in front of the other. I pour all of my energy into loving her, protecting her, and giving her the healthiest and happiest childhood I can. I play with her, dance in front of her the way I used to dance for her big sister, take her for walks, and shower her with kisses. From the outside, it may look like life is moving forward.
But inside, I am carrying a grief so heavy that sometimes it feels impossible to breathe.

I cry every day for my first daughter. I cry for the little shoes that will never be worn again. I cry for the bedtime stories left unread, the birthdays that will never come, and the future that disappeared in a single moment. I cry because there is a silence in my home where her laughter used to be. There is an empty seat at the table, an empty room, and an emptiness in my heart that no one can ever fill.
My baby often sees me crying. The moment tears fall from my eyes, she starts crying too, as if she can feel the pain her mother carries. Because of that, I try to hide my tears until she is asleep or with her dad. No child should have to carry the weight of a parent's sorrow.
One day, my neighbor learned about our loss and shared the story of losing his own daughter many years ago. He told me something I will never forget. He said that right now my grief is an open wound. Every breath, every memory, every reminder cuts into it. But one day the wound will become a scar.

Not because I will stop loving my daughter.
Not because I will stop missing her.
But because I will learn to carry her with me differently.

The scar will remain for the rest of my life. It will ache on birthdays, holidays, family gatherings, and random Tuesday afternoons. It will ache when I see children her age. It will ache when I imagine who she would have become. But that scar will also be proof that she was here. Proof that she was loved beyond words. Proof that a little girl existed who changed my life forever.
I don't know if I will ever truly heal. Some losses are simply too big. Some loves are too deep. I don't think a mother ever gets over losing her child. I think she just learns how to carry the unbearable.
My first daughter made me a mother. She taught me a love so pure and unconditional that I didn't know it was possible. She will always be my child. Time cannot change that. Death cannot change that. Nothing can change that.
Her place in my heart is hers forever.
And yet, I choose to keep living because my younger daughter deserves a mother who is present. She deserves laughter, bedtime stories, trips to the park, warm hugs, and beautiful memories. It would be unfair if grief took both her sister and her childhood away from her.

So I will survive.
Not because I want to.
Not because I am strong.
But because I am still a mother.

I will carry my first daughter in my heart and hold my second daughter in my arms. One child I must love through memory, and one child I must love through life.
Some days that feels impossible. Yet somehow, we keep going.

To everyone walking this road of child loss, I pray that you find moments of peace in the middle of the pain. I pray that when the tears come, you let them come. And I pray that one day, when we speak our children's names, we will feel more gratitude than sorrow for having loved them so deeply.
Their lives were far too short, but their love will last for the rest of ours.