Archive for the ‘National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day’ Category

#Wave of Light

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Despite having the best of intentions I don’t blog anymore. After the birth of my daughter, I wanted to become a new mommy blogger, but that didn’t quite pan out. Then, I thought about reinventing myself as a toddler mom blogger. Obviously, that didn’t happen. Lately, I think about reclaiming my blogging self as a preschool mom blogger. Still hasn’t happened, but hey, anything is possible, right?

I’ll always write this post, though. You know the one, the October 15th one.

I’ve read a lot today about the importance of acknowledging our babies we never got to meet or only knew for a short time. A lot of times we are so wrapped up in the raw grief, even years later, that it is difficult to honor what once was. Some suggest naming your babies. Some suggest holding a special remembrance ceremony. Others recommend lighting a candle as I have done for many years.

I think about my lost babies often but I thought about them more today.  My first baby would now be five years old and meeting an important milestone in her life–starting kindergarten. This reminded me of this thoughtful, powerful and incredible letter I found online a few months back.

Welcome Letter

For me, the letter not only demonstrates the power of words to heal broken hearts, but also the kindness others can show us in acknowledging and remembering our babies. I’m not the most open person about letting other people see the real me, but the writer of this letter gives me the encouragement to try.

As this evening draws to a close, it is my hope that you were able to acknowledge your lost babies in a way that feels comfortable and meaningful to you.

Together, our wave of light shines bright.

 

 

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Wish You Were Here

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Here we are again–National Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day or if you prefer, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

It’s now been 5 years since my first miscarriage and about 4 1/2 since my second. I know this day is about remembering and honoring what was lost, but it’s hard not to remember without feeling the sadness and the sting that goes with it.

Yes, I still look at the candles and wonder what might have been, but my heart also hurts for everyone else who has suffered. Someone very close to me endured a devastating pregnancy loss earlier in the year. I carry this child with me every day and I wish for all the world that he could be here.

So these candles are for me and they are for her and they are for you. Remembering what was lost and hoping for dreams to be realized.

 

 

 

To the Babies I Didn’t Meet

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Dear babies:

Today is October 15th, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. To most, this is just a typical day, but for me (and  others) this is a day where we pause. If only for a moment.

I lit a candle for each of you. I always do. I couldn’t bear not to.

As I watched your candles flicker, I think about this day. How I imagined you running towards the sliding board, holding her hand. How I noticed your spot on the other side of the pumpkin at the fall photo shoot.  How I would have shared my SnoCone with you, even if it left a blue ring around your mouth.

It’s so unbelievable how you can and cannot exist at the same time.

But tonight you reminded me of one simple truth: We are a family. You are mine and I am yours. Time will move  forward and your spirits will go with it.

I love you and miss you,

Mama

 

Keeping the Tradition

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I was out late tonight and by late I mean 8PM. I was tired, anxious, and more than ready to go to bed. I wasn’t going to write this post, this same post that I’ve been writing for the past three years.

However, when I dug out these candles and lit them in honor of my lost babies, I instantly felt soothed. My lost babies. I said it. Not my lost embryo or my lost product of conception, but my babies. Lost early, but a part of me forever.

For the first time, I can light these candles and not lose myself by the sheer weight of the sadness they represent. I can acknowledge and honor my babies, knowing they were real and that they mattered and still do. I am honoring their memories and it feels right and it feels okay.