Before we were anything else, we were two mothers missing our children.
Carried With Us was not built in a boardroom. It was built on kitchen floors, in the small hours, out of the thing we each went looking for and couldn't find.
Sarah
I lost my daughter, Grace, three days after she was born. For months, I couldn't say her name out loud without the whole room going quiet.
What carried me wasn't advice. It was the friend who sat with me on the kitchen floor and didn't try to fix anything — who just stayed. That is the feeling we've tried to build into everything here.
Carried With Us is the place I went looking for at 2am and couldn't find. So we made it.
"We couldn't find the place we needed. So we built it — for you, and for the children we carry with us."
Emily
I'm Emily. My son, Theo, was stillborn at thirty-nine weeks. We had a name, a nursery, a whole life imagined. And then we came home to a silent house.
For a long time I thought grief was something you were supposed to get over. I've learned it's something you learn to carry — and that it's lighter when someone helps you carry it.
Sarah and I met in the worst year of our lives. This is what we built out of it, so no one else has to look as hard as we did.
The loss of a baby or child is one of the loneliest things a person can live through. It shouldn't also be one of the most invisible.
So we're building something steady and warm: a podcast, a community, resources, and gatherings — all held together by one belief. That your child mattered. That your grief makes sense. And that hope and heartbreak can share the same room, for as long as you need them to.