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Still: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Motherhood
A moving, candid account of one woman’s experience with stillbirth.
Emma Hansen is 39 weeks and 6 days pregnant when she feels her baby go quiet inside of her. At the hospital, her worst fears are confirmed: doctors explain that her baby has died, and she will need to deliver him, still.
Hansen gives birth to her son, Reid, amidst an avalanche of grief. Nine days later, she publishes a candid essay on her website sharing photos from the delivery room. Much to her surprise, her essay goes viral, sparking positive reactions around the world. Still shares what comes next: a struggle with grief and confusion alongside a desire to better understand stillbirth, which is experienced by more than two million women annually, but rarely talked about in public.
At once honest, brave, and uplifting, Still is about one woman’s search for her own definition of motherhood, even as she faces one of life’s greatest challenges: learning to live after loss.
Emma Hansen is 39 weeks and 6 days pregnant when she feels her baby go quiet inside of her. At the hospital, her worst fears are confirmed: doctors explain that her baby has died, and she will need to deliver him, still.
Hansen gives birth to her son, Reid, amidst an avalanche of grief. Nine days later, she publishes a candid essay on her website sharing photos from the delivery room. Much to her surprise, her essay goes viral, sparking positive reactions around the world. Still shares what comes next: a struggle with grief and confusion alongside a desire to better understand stillbirth, which is experienced by more than two million women annually, but rarely talked about in public.
At once honest, brave, and uplifting, Still is about one woman’s search for her own definition of motherhood, even as she faces one of life’s greatest challenges: learning to live after loss.
284 pages, Paperback
First published April 4, 2020
17 people are currently reading
472 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 47 reviews
March 31, 2022
March is my "Memoirs & Biographies" Month!
Why I chose to listen to this memoir:
1. when I came across this book on Goodreads a couple of years ago, I added it to my WTR list because I knew that it would affect me personally; and,
2. my audiobook hold became available at this opportune time.
Positives:
1. this book could only be narrated by Emma Hansen herself. You can just hear and feel her raw emotions as she relates, at a perfect pace, her grief, thoughts, actions, faith, and hopes; and,
2. this story needed to be told, whether to commiserate with Emma, to learn about bereavement choices, or even to know what to say or do when someone loses a child (Note: it is better to acknowledge the child rather than deny that anything happened.) I cried along with Emma throughout her journey of losing Reid.
On September 25, 1994, our son, Ryan, was stillborn. I really struggled as to whether I should read or listen to Emma's story, because the pain of losing Ryan still feels so fresh after all these years. Unlike Emma, I was full-term and in labor at the hospital when the nurses couldn't find his heartbeat, and our doctor gently told us that our baby was dead. Like Reid, Ryan also had a true knot in his umbilical cord plus it was wrapped twice around his neck. This type of cord accident occurs in 1.2% of all pregnancies, but I hated being a statistic. Luckily for us, our doctor, the hospital staff, the funeral directors, our priest and especially most of our family and friends were extremely kind, helpful and compassionate. We agreed when a nurse asked if we wished for Ryan to be baptized. Although a priest performed this sacrament for our baby, he told us that Ryan was an angel. That truly warmed my heart.
One book that I read that really moved me was Embraced by the Light by Betty J. Eadie. It helped me cope through those dark times and still gives me hope to this day. I tried to read as much as possible about pregnancy loss after losing Ryan, and even though I hoped that I would never have to, I passed my books along to a close colleague when she had a miscarriage. Several years later, she moved to another province and has been "paying it forward" with others who have also experienced pregnancy loss.
Although I birthed two children already, a stillbirth had never crossed my mind until a month prior to my due date, I had read an article in an expectant mothers' magazine about a woman whose child was stillborn. I hoped this wouldn't happen to me, but in hindsight, I appreciated the advice she gave regarding bereavement choices. Some choices Emma shared were similar to mine, yet others were different that I wished I knew about or regretted that I never did.
How much information is too much for expectant mothers? It's hard to say, because which pregnant woman wants to plan for that?! However, I believe anyone involved in obstetrics should be aware of as much information as possible to provide the grieving parent(s), since there is such a narrow window of time to do so. No parent should ever have to feel that they were unaware of various actions and/or options they could've made. Emma's book is a great tool.
Like Emma's Everett, Laura is our "Rainbow Baby" (April 22, 1996). She came into this world, not instead of Ryan, but because of him.
Losing a child goes against nature, because it feels like you are losing a piece of your future. Leaving the hospital with empty arms has got to be the most heart-wrenching thing to experience. Emma, I truly believe that Reid and Ryan are keeping each other company.💖💖
Why I chose to listen to this memoir:
1. when I came across this book on Goodreads a couple of years ago, I added it to my WTR list because I knew that it would affect me personally; and,
2. my audiobook hold became available at this opportune time.
Positives:
1. this book could only be narrated by Emma Hansen herself. You can just hear and feel her raw emotions as she relates, at a perfect pace, her grief, thoughts, actions, faith, and hopes; and,
2. this story needed to be told, whether to commiserate with Emma, to learn about bereavement choices, or even to know what to say or do when someone loses a child (Note: it is better to acknowledge the child rather than deny that anything happened.) I cried along with Emma throughout her journey of losing Reid.
On September 25, 1994, our son, Ryan, was stillborn. I really struggled as to whether I should read or listen to Emma's story, because the pain of losing Ryan still feels so fresh after all these years. Unlike Emma, I was full-term and in labor at the hospital when the nurses couldn't find his heartbeat, and our doctor gently told us that our baby was dead. Like Reid, Ryan also had a true knot in his umbilical cord plus it was wrapped twice around his neck. This type of cord accident occurs in 1.2% of all pregnancies, but I hated being a statistic. Luckily for us, our doctor, the hospital staff, the funeral directors, our priest and especially most of our family and friends were extremely kind, helpful and compassionate. We agreed when a nurse asked if we wished for Ryan to be baptized. Although a priest performed this sacrament for our baby, he told us that Ryan was an angel. That truly warmed my heart.
One book that I read that really moved me was Embraced by the Light by Betty J. Eadie. It helped me cope through those dark times and still gives me hope to this day. I tried to read as much as possible about pregnancy loss after losing Ryan, and even though I hoped that I would never have to, I passed my books along to a close colleague when she had a miscarriage. Several years later, she moved to another province and has been "paying it forward" with others who have also experienced pregnancy loss.
Although I birthed two children already, a stillbirth had never crossed my mind until a month prior to my due date, I had read an article in an expectant mothers' magazine about a woman whose child was stillborn. I hoped this wouldn't happen to me, but in hindsight, I appreciated the advice she gave regarding bereavement choices. Some choices Emma shared were similar to mine, yet others were different that I wished I knew about or regretted that I never did.
How much information is too much for expectant mothers? It's hard to say, because which pregnant woman wants to plan for that?! However, I believe anyone involved in obstetrics should be aware of as much information as possible to provide the grieving parent(s), since there is such a narrow window of time to do so. No parent should ever have to feel that they were unaware of various actions and/or options they could've made. Emma's book is a great tool.
Like Emma's Everett, Laura is our "Rainbow Baby" (April 22, 1996). She came into this world, not instead of Ryan, but because of him.
Losing a child goes against nature, because it feels like you are losing a piece of your future. Leaving the hospital with empty arms has got to be the most heart-wrenching thing to experience. Emma, I truly believe that Reid and Ryan are keeping each other company.💖💖
June 2, 2021
The below review originally appeared on my blog, Olive the Books.
Though I make all of my reading public online, my friends and family largely ignore it, and I’m grateful for that. Thus, I do frequently get asked what I’m reading by people I know personally. When people have posed this question recently, I’ve had to awkwardly respond that, during this very unsettling time in the world, I’ve chosen to pick up a grief memoir.
Still: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Motherhood was written by a mother whose son’s heart stopped beating the day before his due date. Then, on his exact due date, a day she eagerly anticipated her little family would be ushering a new addition into the world, Hansen delivered a stillborn baby.
Shortly thereafter, on her blog (on which she had shared many details of their preparations for arrival of their son – named Reid ahead of time) Emma had to break to the news to her readership. She titled the post Born Still, but Still Born, and it quickly went viral. A large number of women used the comments section to express condolences, but also to share their own experiences with stillbirth, a far more common occurrence than people may realize.
Hansen uses this book to tell her story, explain her grief process, and to honor Reid’s memory. In the aftermath, she chooses to study to become both a yoga instructor and a doula. She initiates the project #ninemonthswithreid, taking photos for Instagram over the nine months after his passing at significant locations where the expectant parents (as well as their friends and family) shared memories during Hansen’s pregnancy. As best as she can, she finds ways to cope. To forget, but also, more critically, to remember.
I doubt it would surprise anyone to acknowledge how heartbreaking this book is. The actual event happens early in the book and it’s beyond difficult to see this family go through something so unimaginable. A perfectly healthy pregnancy, a deeply wanted child. It seems like something so profoundly unfair that the universe shouldn’t allow it.
Reading a book like this during such a dark moment for our world is an odd choice, I admit. I got the review copy before the virus even took hold of patient zero and no one would have blamed me (or, frankly, noticed) if I silently gave it a pass. But not for one moment have I regretted sharing this experience with Hansen.
As I was browsing Twitter the other day (a horrible pastime, I don’t recommend it), I found an article entitled That Discomfort You’re Feeling Is Grief. In it, the author suggests precisely what the title says: we’re all mourning right now. People are dying. Livelihoods have been lost. The economy is in free fall. People are going hungry. Small businesses have shuttered, some never to reopen. Families are separated. Everything exciting or promising has been cancelled. And we’re all deeply, deeply afraid while we look at the window and wonder if the world is ever going to be the same.
Toward the end of her book, Hansen notes, correctly, that dealing with grief isn’t something most of us (in the West, at least) are taught how to do:
And so, even after losing one of the most important people in my life two years ago, I stand frozen in the face of grief once again, unsure how to cope. I am, of course, worried for my life and the lives of the people I love, but I am heartbroken for all of us. I am furious that we lack the structures to protect people right now. I broke down in uncontrollable tears seeing news coverage of the lines at food bank in my city, my beautiful city of Pittsburgh, being inundated with people and stretching for miles.
I feel as though, most of all, we’re all grieving the before. You’ll hear many people say, “I can’t wait for things to get back to normal.” There are signs all over my city saying, “we’ll get through this, Pittsburgh!” Indeed, the lucky of us will, but we’ll be facing a much different world on the other side.
There is something comforting in sharing an emotional experience with another. Though I often feel like part robot, I am not immune to many normal human impulses. Reading Still in this moment of grief, allowing myself to feel the surge of emotions this time is stirring, felt like companionship. It felt like sharing a deep connection through loss. Not the same kind of loss on both sides, but loss nonetheless.
Though I make all of my reading public online, my friends and family largely ignore it, and I’m grateful for that. Thus, I do frequently get asked what I’m reading by people I know personally. When people have posed this question recently, I’ve had to awkwardly respond that, during this very unsettling time in the world, I’ve chosen to pick up a grief memoir.
Still: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Motherhood was written by a mother whose son’s heart stopped beating the day before his due date. Then, on his exact due date, a day she eagerly anticipated her little family would be ushering a new addition into the world, Hansen delivered a stillborn baby.
Shortly thereafter, on her blog (on which she had shared many details of their preparations for arrival of their son – named Reid ahead of time) Emma had to break to the news to her readership. She titled the post Born Still, but Still Born, and it quickly went viral. A large number of women used the comments section to express condolences, but also to share their own experiences with stillbirth, a far more common occurrence than people may realize.
Hansen uses this book to tell her story, explain her grief process, and to honor Reid’s memory. In the aftermath, she chooses to study to become both a yoga instructor and a doula. She initiates the project #ninemonthswithreid, taking photos for Instagram over the nine months after his passing at significant locations where the expectant parents (as well as their friends and family) shared memories during Hansen’s pregnancy. As best as she can, she finds ways to cope. To forget, but also, more critically, to remember.
I doubt it would surprise anyone to acknowledge how heartbreaking this book is. The actual event happens early in the book and it’s beyond difficult to see this family go through something so unimaginable. A perfectly healthy pregnancy, a deeply wanted child. It seems like something so profoundly unfair that the universe shouldn’t allow it.
Reading a book like this during such a dark moment for our world is an odd choice, I admit. I got the review copy before the virus even took hold of patient zero and no one would have blamed me (or, frankly, noticed) if I silently gave it a pass. But not for one moment have I regretted sharing this experience with Hansen.
As I was browsing Twitter the other day (a horrible pastime, I don’t recommend it), I found an article entitled That Discomfort You’re Feeling Is Grief. In it, the author suggests precisely what the title says: we’re all mourning right now. People are dying. Livelihoods have been lost. The economy is in free fall. People are going hungry. Small businesses have shuttered, some never to reopen. Families are separated. Everything exciting or promising has been cancelled. And we’re all deeply, deeply afraid while we look at the window and wonder if the world is ever going to be the same.
Toward the end of her book, Hansen notes, correctly, that dealing with grief isn’t something most of us (in the West, at least) are taught how to do:
Within my North American, largely non-religious culture, there’s so much discomfort around dealing with grief, and the death that brought it. I don’t understand why there is so little to assist us to feel it, carry it, and heal through it, and so much to help us ignore it. Movies that glamorize pain and substances to help numb it, rules put in place to eradicate the possibility of grief talk from our communities, no mention of death or loss in school systems. I don’t know why there is a lack of education about how to have a comforting conversation or give physical and emotional support when someone has suffered a loss.
And so, even after losing one of the most important people in my life two years ago, I stand frozen in the face of grief once again, unsure how to cope. I am, of course, worried for my life and the lives of the people I love, but I am heartbroken for all of us. I am furious that we lack the structures to protect people right now. I broke down in uncontrollable tears seeing news coverage of the lines at food bank in my city, my beautiful city of Pittsburgh, being inundated with people and stretching for miles.
I feel as though, most of all, we’re all grieving the before. You’ll hear many people say, “I can’t wait for things to get back to normal.” There are signs all over my city saying, “we’ll get through this, Pittsburgh!” Indeed, the lucky of us will, but we’ll be facing a much different world on the other side.
There is something comforting in sharing an emotional experience with another. Though I often feel like part robot, I am not immune to many normal human impulses. Reading Still in this moment of grief, allowing myself to feel the surge of emotions this time is stirring, felt like companionship. It felt like sharing a deep connection through loss. Not the same kind of loss on both sides, but loss nonetheless.
July 22, 2021
Though I have never experienced a stillborn baby myself, I had a friend who had and it was something she never talked about.
When I was pregnant it was something that I hoped would never happen to me.
I did however experience the close call of losing an infant when my firstborn was born with a complete bowel blockage and needed surgery and spent the first month of her life in hospital. It was a scary, terrifying time of not knowing what to expect and the fear of losing her.
That fear of something going wrong would stick with me throughout my future pregnancies.
I had no idea about a tight true knot in the umbilical cord and that these knots are rare, happening in 1.2% in all pregnancies.
The authors baby was a late term stillborn at 39 weeks.
Reading a memoir like this helps me understand what others go through.
And how best to comfort someone in this situation or other situations of grief. That the most helpful thing you can say to someone is “I’m so sorry” or “I have no idea what you’re going through and this really f****** sucks.
There is always our natural instinct to categorize situations as more or less than. Like it’s easier to lose a child now than when they’re older or at least you can have more children. Such statements we might think are comforting in some way, but they are not helpful at all.
Hearing how someone else goes through loss and grief I believe is of value for all of us, for when something happens in our life that we have no control over we know we are not alone in our suffering, that others have survived horrible losses and that we can too.
There is also the awareness that we might not always have a choice in what might happen to us but to remember the importance of our attitude, outlook and our response.
Since this is a book by a Canadian, I wondered about the last name. She writes about her father in a wheel chair and how he came to be paralyzed, and I wondered if it might be Rick Hansen’s daughter. The answer is yes.
I thank her for sharing her deeply personal and painful story.
When I was pregnant it was something that I hoped would never happen to me.
I did however experience the close call of losing an infant when my firstborn was born with a complete bowel blockage and needed surgery and spent the first month of her life in hospital. It was a scary, terrifying time of not knowing what to expect and the fear of losing her.
That fear of something going wrong would stick with me throughout my future pregnancies.
I had no idea about a tight true knot in the umbilical cord and that these knots are rare, happening in 1.2% in all pregnancies.
The authors baby was a late term stillborn at 39 weeks.
Reading a memoir like this helps me understand what others go through.
And how best to comfort someone in this situation or other situations of grief. That the most helpful thing you can say to someone is “I’m so sorry” or “I have no idea what you’re going through and this really f****** sucks.
There is always our natural instinct to categorize situations as more or less than. Like it’s easier to lose a child now than when they’re older or at least you can have more children. Such statements we might think are comforting in some way, but they are not helpful at all.
Hearing how someone else goes through loss and grief I believe is of value for all of us, for when something happens in our life that we have no control over we know we are not alone in our suffering, that others have survived horrible losses and that we can too.
There is also the awareness that we might not always have a choice in what might happen to us but to remember the importance of our attitude, outlook and our response.
Since this is a book by a Canadian, I wondered about the last name. She writes about her father in a wheel chair and how he came to be paralyzed, and I wondered if it might be Rick Hansen’s daughter. The answer is yes.
I thank her for sharing her deeply personal and painful story.
November 29, 2020
Still was one of the most beautiful books I’ve read this year. I thought long and hard about if I should read this - I waited until my daughter was six months old. I knew Emma’s story from instagram, so none of it was surprising, but reading about her baby dying while that fear was still very real would have been too much when Zoe was tiny. Emma writes beautifully and honestly and has an amazing ability to put words to ideas and thoughts that often have no words. Highly recommend reading this book.
February 5, 2020
Wow. Hansen's writing is beautiful. This is her achingly honest account of finding out at 39 weeks pregnant that her son has died (due to a true knot in the umbilical cord), and giving born to him stillborn. She accounts the two years that follow, including getting pregnant again with her second son. Highly recommended.
January 8, 2023
I am a mother to a stillborn son who died in July of 2022. This book is incredible to know that there are others who feel and think and have gone through the same situation. It would be great to share with others to learn how grieving mothers are feeling and learn their thought process. This book gave me light and hope during the midst of a dark time.
December 24, 2022
Wow. It's honestly so hard for me to convey in words what this book has meant to me, and how cathartic it has felt to read it. My first child, my son Oliver, died in my womb at 36 weeks gestation and I gave birth to him about 2 weeks ago. I started reading Emma's story the night after we found out; I remembered her excerpt from Arrival Stories: Women Share Their Experiences of Becoming Mothers and I knew I needed to read about someone else's experience with stillbirth while I navigated the territory for myself.
So much of my story is similar to Emma's, and there are so many words, thoughts, and feelings she conveys throughout this book that I have felt at some point the last few weeks, but could not verbalize. It has brought me so much solace to know that I am not alone in this pain, although it simultaneously saddens me to no end as well.
Aside from the content, her words are crafted together so beautifully. I rarely read Acknowledgements in a book, but I read all of them in this book and even those brought me to tears.
I plan on sharing this book with any friends or family who want to know about my experience, or who want to understand our situation more closely. My own copy of this book is already tear-stained and annotated to hell and back, and I know I'll refer back to parts of it many times over the years.
Emma is so brave for reliving this story in such detail and sharing it with the world, and I am eternally grateful for that.
So much of my story is similar to Emma's, and there are so many words, thoughts, and feelings she conveys throughout this book that I have felt at some point the last few weeks, but could not verbalize. It has brought me so much solace to know that I am not alone in this pain, although it simultaneously saddens me to no end as well.
Aside from the content, her words are crafted together so beautifully. I rarely read Acknowledgements in a book, but I read all of them in this book and even those brought me to tears.
I plan on sharing this book with any friends or family who want to know about my experience, or who want to understand our situation more closely. My own copy of this book is already tear-stained and annotated to hell and back, and I know I'll refer back to parts of it many times over the years.
Emma is so brave for reliving this story in such detail and sharing it with the world, and I am eternally grateful for that.
March 22, 2021
Most Canadians and others around the world are familiar with Rick Hansen. He has toured the world, showing the abilities of those confined to a wheelchair. He has been an ambassador for bringing a voice to those who are disabled.
Now his daughter Emma is bringing an important issue to the forefront in a much different manner, thanks to her book, STILL. It is a most moving tale of loss. She tells the story of the death of her son Reid who was born still.
She was ready to give birth back in 2015. The day be-fore the due date, she felt as though her son was no longer moving inside her. She went to the hospital. A machine detected no fetal heartbeat. She was faced with the task of giving birth to her dead child. Holding it in her hands, along with husband Aaron was an emotional experience.
Emma talks about the days, months, and even years after the loss. She went to a retreat with other mothers, who had also lost a child, either born still or after giving birth. Emma notes that two and a half million women have stillbirths each year, and that no two people grieve the same. It took a while to consider having another child, and when she was pregnant again, she was filled with trepidation about the eventual birth.
She did give birth to another son, Everett, who did stop breathing just after birth. He did eventually recover. The book is filled with such love that you will feel an emotional tug at your heart throughout. You will never forget Emma’s story, and will remember Reid forever.
Now his daughter Emma is bringing an important issue to the forefront in a much different manner, thanks to her book, STILL. It is a most moving tale of loss. She tells the story of the death of her son Reid who was born still.
She was ready to give birth back in 2015. The day be-fore the due date, she felt as though her son was no longer moving inside her. She went to the hospital. A machine detected no fetal heartbeat. She was faced with the task of giving birth to her dead child. Holding it in her hands, along with husband Aaron was an emotional experience.
Emma talks about the days, months, and even years after the loss. She went to a retreat with other mothers, who had also lost a child, either born still or after giving birth. Emma notes that two and a half million women have stillbirths each year, and that no two people grieve the same. It took a while to consider having another child, and when she was pregnant again, she was filled with trepidation about the eventual birth.
She did give birth to another son, Everett, who did stop breathing just after birth. He did eventually recover. The book is filled with such love that you will feel an emotional tug at your heart throughout. You will never forget Emma’s story, and will remember Reid forever.
April 4, 2020
Stillbirth affects more than 2 million women annually. Something I didn't know. It's a subject our society lacks more advocacy for. But thanks to books like STILL it gives it a much needed voice.
•
In STILL, Hansen gracefully shines a light on the tragic and difficult process of experiencing her first pregnancy ending in stillbirth, to the journey that comes after. Through the grief, loss, heartbreak and acceptance of the unimaginable loss of a child, the process to understand stillbirth, and becoming pregnant again with her second son.
•
Hansen's ability to approach grief and motherhood with such empathy and candor made this a very poignant read. I just know this book will be a comfort for families that have faced the same sorrow and grief of Stillbirth. But for others its the rare opportunity to look into a journey we know nothing about, and try to grasp some appreciation and understanding.
•
Thank You to the tagged publisher for sending me this book opinions are my own.
•
For more of my book content check out instagram.com/bookalong
•
In STILL, Hansen gracefully shines a light on the tragic and difficult process of experiencing her first pregnancy ending in stillbirth, to the journey that comes after. Through the grief, loss, heartbreak and acceptance of the unimaginable loss of a child, the process to understand stillbirth, and becoming pregnant again with her second son.
•
Hansen's ability to approach grief and motherhood with such empathy and candor made this a very poignant read. I just know this book will be a comfort for families that have faced the same sorrow and grief of Stillbirth. But for others its the rare opportunity to look into a journey we know nothing about, and try to grasp some appreciation and understanding.
•
Thank You to the tagged publisher for sending me this book opinions are my own.
•
For more of my book content check out instagram.com/bookalong
December 12, 2020
I’m not sure why I was drawn to this, why I have this morbid curiosity about the experience of losing a child. I suppose I am more capable now than I’ve ever been of empathizing with this kind of grief. The book was devastating and beautifully written. “I have always known that grief and love are cut from the same cloth.”
Read
June 30, 2023I’m not usually one to annotate books, but I have endless lines in this book underlined. I resonated so much with so many feelings and experiences shared in this book.
I’ve read it off and on, when in the right headspace, the past several months. I highly recommend to anyone who’s had any kind of loss, and even those looking to support someone going through a loss.
I’ve read it off and on, when in the right headspace, the past several months. I highly recommend to anyone who’s had any kind of loss, and even those looking to support someone going through a loss.
April 1, 2022
Wow, this was heartbreaking to read. Emma Hansen has been through so much trauma and grief, yet she exudes hope.
January 31, 2023
3.5 hehe
March 3, 2024
A beautiful and vulnerable memoir, crafted with such intention and care. I really appreciated Emma guiding the reader through the loss of Reid, the anxiety that followed, the birth of her next son, Everett. I felt like I was sitting with her, watching it all unfold. Much of her sorrow, fear, hope was palpable, and that feels like a rare gift. So much of it felt relatable to my own experience of losing a child and for that I am grateful. Thank you, Emma, for laboring to bring this book into the world. I’m so glad it was a part of your ritual.
December 21, 2024
Excellent book on a difficult but worthwhile read
March 9, 2022
This book touched me more than I could possibly imagine it would. I picked it up as a study for something I’m writing and it was gut wrenching at some moments and yet so so beautiful. It speaks of motherhood, of stillbirth, but in a greater scheme is about loss and love. Emma’s writing is filled with poetry and hard truths. I have never before read a book that has the same view as mine on grief: that it is a never ending process.
I’ll surely read it a lot of times. And I’m so, so deeply sorry for anyone who experienced this kind of loss. I’m not a mother but as a woman I can only imagine what this specific kind of loss can do to you.
Considering I have a genetic disease that amplifies by 50% the chance of miscarriages and stillbirth, this book made me think a lot “what if it was me?”
And Emma: we’ll never forget Reid. He was beautifully honored in each and every word you wrote.
I’ll surely read it a lot of times. And I’m so, so deeply sorry for anyone who experienced this kind of loss. I’m not a mother but as a woman I can only imagine what this specific kind of loss can do to you.
Considering I have a genetic disease that amplifies by 50% the chance of miscarriages and stillbirth, this book made me think a lot “what if it was me?”
And Emma: we’ll never forget Reid. He was beautifully honored in each and every word you wrote.
December 4, 2020
I cried so many tears while reading this book. As Emma Hansen makes clear, grief after loss is a difficult topic for many of us in the Western societies. Every year, scores of women live through the experience of miscarriage, the loss of an unborn child or a small infant, and they have to tread difficult journeys of motherhood on the sidelines. When loss and grief are not openly talked about, the suffering does not go away, it is merely experienced in silence. Emma Hansen did all of us a great service by breaking open her wounded heart and sharing her painful story with the world. Her memoir is a testament to the endless motherly love, the courage to be open when vulnerable, and the powerful desire to build a legacy for a stillborn son, so that we can always remember Reid. I hold my six month old son closer and longer now, and i feel better equipped to accompany the women in my life who are experiencing loss in their motherhood. May all of us grow so we can be there for each other in our darkest times.
August 18, 2021
This book is written by Emma Hansen, a memoir about her experience giving birth to a still born son. "Though stillborn, he was still born". The story is well written. I found the first half to be quite emotional, and was often moved to tears myself. Her grief, loss and heartbreak is evident. The second half of the book, for me, really slowed down and in spots I thought "let's get moving with the story". I have helped families through their birth experiences when they have been given the diagnosis of a demise, providing what I have always hoped is the best experience for them during the worst time of their lives. And I've often wondered how they manage when they leave the hospital. How they cope and carry on with life while trying to believe they are still parents to a child even thought the child did not live. Emma is very honest and open about her life following Reid's birth; her marriage, personal relationship and ability to grieve, mourn and continue on to eventually have a second son. Recommend it with kleenex at the ready.
January 31, 2021
First the title drew me in. “still”
Then the beautiful drawing on the cover. I grew still. A Mother grasping her pregnant belly in a loving embrace, her long hair flowing behind her. No need to wonder what still meant.
Despite reading, breathing, crying, aching through the words Emma Hansen shared I cannot begin to imagine her experiences, and I am so thankful I never will. Many have before her and since, and many more will do so in the future. But I will not.
Hansen honours the beloved son she and her husband lost and gives voice to those who never can put into words what she was able to.
Then the beautiful drawing on the cover. I grew still. A Mother grasping her pregnant belly in a loving embrace, her long hair flowing behind her. No need to wonder what still meant.
Despite reading, breathing, crying, aching through the words Emma Hansen shared I cannot begin to imagine her experiences, and I am so thankful I never will. Many have before her and since, and many more will do so in the future. But I will not.
Hansen honours the beloved son she and her husband lost and gives voice to those who never can put into words what she was able to.
December 10, 2020
I never lost a child but my husband & I went through infertility and I felt like for 4 years I lost a child every month we tried. This book reminded me of a lot of the times that I struggled with grief, depression, and my faith. The author was painstakingly honest and her story was heartbreaking but also redemptive. I appreciated her honesty about her struggles in her faith and how it grew. Also, she shared how her husband & her related & struggled on many levels. I highly recommend this book! But bring a box of Kleenex. Seriously!
January 23, 2021
I was amazed to learn that so many babies are stillborn. Born still, as Emma Hansen says. A personal and insightful account of her experience and the long term impact it has had on her and her family. And what she went through to have a second baby and how close she came to losing him too? Wow.
I think I’d have preferred reading the print book as I found the audio narration slow-going at times. There were parts I’d have skimmed. But I think if a person was reading/listening to the book because they’d had a similar experience they might find the pace and tone comforting.
I think I’d have preferred reading the print book as I found the audio narration slow-going at times. There were parts I’d have skimmed. But I think if a person was reading/listening to the book because they’d had a similar experience they might find the pace and tone comforting.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 9, 2023
My 5 star rating seems harsh & morbid :( ... but I'm extremely blessed to have read Emma & Aaron's story and to have met Reid and Elliott through Emma's words.
Although I have never experienced the pain and sadness of a stillborn child my heart and mind have been opened to the narrative of "why don't we talk about it".
I hope Reid lives on in everyone's heart.
Although I have never experienced the pain and sadness of a stillborn child my heart and mind have been opened to the narrative of "why don't we talk about it".
I hope Reid lives on in everyone's heart.
August 5, 2020
Well written memoir about grief and mourning. Thought-provoking, as well. We never really "get over" a profound loss, we simply learn how to carry and recognize it within us as we continue on during our life's journey.
March 18, 2021
Any woman who has experienced a miscarriage or the loss of a child or those who want to know how to support these women should read this book! I sobbed from beginning to end. Such an open, honest, brave book about love and loss
September 10, 2020
Broke my heart open — this is a tough read if you have gone through loss, but a beautiful one that resonated deeply with me.
November 6, 2020
A beautiful and heartbreaking memoir. What a gift.
March 3, 2021
This book trigger some big emotions in me. From losing her baby to then having a baby and almost losing him....Oy. Your singing my life! It was a struggle to read at times.
January 6, 2023
Heartbreaking but worth the read. I have never sobbed while reading a book before. My heart goes out to all women who have experienced a miscarriage or stillbirth.
July 11, 2024
I read the first half of this book in three days. I took a break until three days ago, when I read the last half.
This book is impossible to put down once you start, even when you read the pain that Emma went through. I don’t know how she does it but her writing is breathtaking. I don’t know how she wrote about her loss with such beauty. I don’t know how she made something so painful be so… beautiful in its delivery.
I had so many thoughts while I read this but I just can’t communicate them. I can’t express what I feel and I can’t find the words to articulate it well enough.
This book ripped me apart and it put me back together. It made me face my pain and live through it again and it helped to heal me.
I appreciate how she opened her heart and her experience so that we know we aren’t alone.
This book is impossible to put down once you start, even when you read the pain that Emma went through. I don’t know how she does it but her writing is breathtaking. I don’t know how she wrote about her loss with such beauty. I don’t know how she made something so painful be so… beautiful in its delivery.
I had so many thoughts while I read this but I just can’t communicate them. I can’t express what I feel and I can’t find the words to articulate it well enough.
This book ripped me apart and it put me back together. It made me face my pain and live through it again and it helped to heal me.
I appreciate how she opened her heart and her experience so that we know we aren’t alone.
May 30, 2025
This book was sad and beautiful. The author gracefully tells her raw, emotional, angry, grief-stricken story of losing her first son, Reid, at the very end of her pregnancy, and then the subsequent fertility challenges and medical scares she endures. She reflects on faith and marriage and friendships and “what ifs,” and includes many examples of things people said/did that actually comforted or validated her. There’s emphasis on how the loss affected her husband as well, and how his grief was minimized since he hadn’t actually carried the child. Reading this after watching the “Shower” short film by Alex and Jon was really powerful.
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