Mandy Hitchcock

Motherhood. Loss. Authenticity. Resilience.


Mandy Hitchcock


I realize I’ve posted a lot about feeling low during these many, many, MANY days of NaBloPoMo (seriously, will November ever end?!), but that is reality of grief, especially during the latter months of every year. I woke up feeling so… Continue Reading →

Always Grieving, Always Grateful

A friend of mine told me a little while ago that I am lucky in some really important ways, even though it is sometimes hard to see that. I responded that I have no trouble seeing it at all, and my hope is… Continue Reading →

Do One Good Thing for Hudson’s Seventh Birthday

For each of the past five years, I’ve written a new entry on my old blog about a week before our sweet Hudson’s birthday,  inviting anyone and everyone to join us in honoring her memory by doing One Good Thing sometime on… Continue Reading →

Origami Christmas Calendar

This is probably my first and last post about anything crafty, so enjoy it while it lasts. (Thanks, NaBloPoMo.) Growing up, we had this amazing felt advent calendar with a giant Christmas tree and 24 pockets to hold ornaments that we… Continue Reading →

We Need a Little Christmas

Speaking of Christmas music, my four-year-old Jackson can’t get enough of it. We’ve had it blaring on Pandora and in the car for at least two weeks already. Tonight, my dad took him to his regular swimming lesson, and when… Continue Reading →

Perpetual State

There is a great debate among those who celebrate Christmas about when it’s appropriate to start listening to Christmas music. I myself have fallen on both sides at different points in time. Facebook reminded me last week that a year ago, I… Continue Reading →

With a Little Help

On one evening a month for the last eighteen months, I’ve been fortunate enough to spend three or four hours with these amazing women (and a few others not pictured). We originally met as part of the 2014 Raleigh-Durham production of… Continue Reading →

Writing is Hard (Duh, Right?)

When I first started writing after my daughter died, I couldn’t not write. At first, I felt I had too much inside of me that simply could not remain there if I were going to survive. Then for a while,… Continue Reading →

No Crib for a Bed

Where do refugee children sleep?  Look at the photos. Don’t avert your eyes. You’ll want to look away. I did, too. But don’t. When I looked at the photos, all I could think about was my son’s bed. How he sleeps on a… Continue Reading →

Side By Side

My three children resemble one another so closely that I often have fun playing tricks on friends and family by posting baby photos of them with a caption of “Guess the baby!” To prove my point, here are photos taken… Continue Reading →

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