Monday, April 11, 2011

Photo Monday

Dogwood flower floating in water
Amy McCarter
April 2011

Surviving the Day Everyday

Grief can be isolating. Grief sometimes makes me feel as if my days are spent circling around, never moving from the place I was. Occasionally even the most vibrant Spring day can feel devoid of color and light. Grief leaves me searching for something I can not find, something just beyond my reach. But on other days grief bestows beauty and courage. At times being alone with my grief I find a kind of peaceful solitude. I see all this in the black and white photo of the single dogwood flower floating in circles within the small birdbath of water. - Amy


Digital photograph, unaltered except the addition of sepia tone.
Curls O Fred

Having been born and have mostly ever lived in landlocked states, the ocean presents itself as a very powerful force to me. It's vast and seemingly unending, much like the grief I have after my daughter's stillbirth. Both the ocean and grief are ever changing...some days more raw and unrelenting, and at other times more calm and subtly washing over me. - Rachel


Kara Kohr.

My submission for Photo Monday is a photograph taken on our son Matthew's first birthday. He was born still on Sept. 8, 2007 at 21 weeks. We were shocked when we learned at 20 weeks that he was very sick and would not live. On his first birthday one year later, we bought a sunflower for each member of our family: my husband, our first and only child, Matthew, and myself. We threw each flower into the lake in our neighborhood and we released balloons into the sky. It had been a terribly hard year for us after we lost him. And, very fitting, it rained very gently and quietly the whole time we stood at the lake and watched as our flowers floated away and our balloons disappeared.

about the photographer.
Our first child, Matthew was born still on Sept. 8, 2007 at 21 weeks. We were shocked and heartbroken. After genetic testing and an autopsy, the doctors could only tell us that they thought it was a fluke. We then struggled for almost 2 years to conceive again. After months of infertility treatments, we became pregnant 2 years and one month after we had gotten pregnant with Matthew. At our 12 week ultrasound, we learned that our second child, Gracie, was sick as well. 14 weeks later, Gracie was born still at 26 weeks. Our second pregnancy was excruciating, filled with many appointments, extensive genetic testing and overwhelming hope for a miracle. It wasn't until after an autopsy was performed on Gracie that we learned that we are both recessive carriers for a very rare, fatal genetic condition. There is a 25% chance that any child we conceive will be affected. There is no chance that any baby will survive pregnancy if s/he is affected. We are now 24 weeks pregnant with our third child, a boy, who our doctors are confident is healthy and see no reason why he won't join us this summer. - Kara


Julie Cozens.

Grief still does this to me. It knocks me sideways. Some moments of some days I feel as though I have to have a life jacket to survive it because I am too exhausted to swim anymore and I feel like I will drown. I don't understand why people who are standing on the edge are still just waiting for me to reach safe water. - Julie


  1. These are fantastic and I'm sorry I didn't contribute anything myself - one of those weeks, but that's really not much of an excuse.
    Well done to all contributors. The grief knocks me sideways as well.

  2. These are all great photos, and I can very much relate to the meaning behind all of them. I actually took a picture and had every intention of submitting it in time for Photo Monday, but the last three weeks or so have been such a whirlwind, beginning with my daughter's birthday and then her death anniversary which was yesterday. So many things have slipped my mind while I've just tried to survive this time.

  3. I wasn't aware of photo Monday. I will definitely try to contribute.

  4. So glad I came by today—great images.


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