Capture Your Grief : Day 16 // Release

Today's topic is release, relating to balloon, butterfly, or lantern releases in memory of our babies. Yesterday, I considered going out and purchasing a few balloons to release for Avery, so I would have a relevant photo and story for today's post. But when I woke up this morning, my throat so raw I could barely speak, my day was instead spent on the couch, all thoughts of balloon purchases gone out the window.

However, we have released balloons for Avery before. This kind of steals from tomorrow's post, but it's okay. It's odd how emotional it is to release balloons into the sky in someone's memory. I don't think I ever gave it much thought until I did it on her first birthday last year. There's more significance and meaning attached than one could realize. An emotional release more than just a physical one.

I remember last March, in the cemetery, 11 weeks pregnant with Jude, holding tightly the clusters of balloons in my hand. I was so reluctant to let go. I'm not even sure what the correlation of that emotion is. And when I finally did, I choked back tears. A few tears escaped as we all watched the seven balloons -- one for each hour we spent with Avery -- drift off toward Heaven. Maybe it's the act itself in place of a real birthday that evokes such a stir. Maybe it's the fabricated notion that the balloons will reach her at her Heavenly party so she would know we were remembering her special day.

Capture Your Grief : Day 15 // WAVE of LIGHT

Today is October 15th, Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Today we remember all of the babies lost... the ones who slipped away so quickly, the ones who were born still, the ones who never came home, the ones who only stayed for a short while. There are so many. Too many. We speak out today because in our society, miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant death are so taboo. They are kept silent. These children deserve to be remembered. They are loved and always will be. We have to live this life without our children, we deserve to speak freely.

Today is also the day for Wave of Light. Worldwide, candles are lit at 7pm for one hour in remembrance and honor of our babies in Heaven. Because of the different time zones, the candles are lit in a sort of wave moving around the world. So many people take part and it's such a beautiful way to remember all these precious little ones.

"I didn’t want to kiss you goodbye - that was the trouble - I wanted to kiss you goodnight - and there’s a lot of difference." - Ernest Hemingway

Capture Your Grief : Day 14 // Community

I have not had the opportunity to attend an event for the baby loss community. Each year, it seems that any walks or special remembrance functions are always much too far away from me. I would love to attend a walk in Avery's honor someday. I think it would be so moving and so wonderful.

The baby loss community itself, however, has been a huge part of this journey through grief. I have met dozens of women online who have walked the same path of loss. I first met many through my old blog, The Avery Diaries, that I started three months after losing her. I was inspired by the amazing Kristin Cook, after her blog, Dear Stevie, touched my heart and sparked a need to share my daughter and express myself and my grief. I connected with many of the women on Facebook, furthering our friendships.

I have sent and received many cards and letters with these lovely women. We have exchanged Christmas cards each year since our losses and continue to keep in touch through our blogs, Facebook, Instagram, and even Pinterest. It's so calming to know that there are other mothers out there like me, who live this life and endure the struggles as I do.

Capture Your Grief : Day 13 // Signs

For me personally, I don't believe that Avery is at all here on this Earth, not any more than forever being a part of Daniel and me. I don't think she can physically show me signs or speak to me in any way. I'm not speaking against other people that believe in these things for their children. There's nothing wrong with that. It's just not how I see my daughter. But I would like to think that she is aware of us and that God lets her see how loved she is. I know she is in Heaven, and nowhere else, waiting for us. Saving us a place. And I would like to think that it's God that gives us signs to remind us that our sweet girl is up there with Him, safe in His embrace, loving us and waiting for the day we can be together again.

If God does send me signs that Avery loves us from above, I think it's the little butterflies, appearing for just moments, fluttering among the flowers in my yard, or along the street as I pass by in my car, or passing by me so delicately as I walk. God knows they make me think of my girl. And maybe he sends them by to show me that my girl is thinking of me.

Capture Your Grief : Day 12 // Scents

It's so odd how a certain scent can take you back to a certain time or moment. There are a few scents that spark the memory of Avery. When I was pregnant with her, we had one of those reed diffusers in our kitchen. I think it was some sort of pomegranate scent. I still have the used reeds in a plastic bag in her memory box because smelling them reminds me of being pregnant with her.

Of course, the smell of the hospital reminded me of the day she was born. That cold sterile smell, I guess. I spent a lot of time in the hospital in the last year with Jude and my blood clots so I'm not sure if that smell would still remind me of Avery or if I'd think of the NICU or being hospitalized... or maybe I'd even think of visiting my grandpa before he died last month. Who knows.

Avery had a certain scent to her as we held her. I can't describe it. Sometimes I will be out and about and I'll catch that scent for just a second. I have no idea where it comes from, but sometimes I just find it and I stop dead in my tracks. Then it's gone. The only thing that even remotely still smells like her is her little blanket she was wrapped in. I hope as it continues to fade, I never forget the way she smelled as I cuddled her close to my cheek.