Hot Water Bottles, Catherine

I know this is not a photograph. It is an ink drawing I made a few years ago. This picture comes into my mind whenever I think of two of the little babies that I lost. I never got to hold them or see them but this gives me an image of them, something I can hold and admire!

After many years I am now a mother of two. Twins Hannah and Cormac arrived last December and brought love into my life. My heart will however always ache for my other babies who never arrived.

I work as an art therapist and live by the sea in a lovely part of the south of Ireland.

The Grief Divide, Kara Wansbury

The Grief Divide.
Kara Wansbury.
Painting.


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about the contributor.
I am 30 years old, single and I live in Sydney, Australia. I am in the Navy and I work in public relations. I have been granted the good fortune of considerable time off work and I will use this time wisely to study and explore my grief in whatever creative outlet I pursue. I am not alone in this journey: I have Marin with me every step of the way. - Kara

Untitled, Stephanie Dyer.

Untitled.
Stephanie Dyer.
Painting.


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about the piece.
This is a continuation of a painting that I submitted a while back.  This is another representation of pregnancy and loss.  She is letting go of the life that she holds within her.   Still holding it gently and wanting to keep it close, yet knowing she has no choice but to let it go. -Stephanie.

about the artist.
Stephanie Dyer describes her loss and her journey, "Amelia Rose Dyer was born gently and peacefully on March 11, 2010. She weighed 7 lbs. 12 oz., was 20 inches long with lots of dark hair and simply beautiful. Jesus got to hold her before we did, but we are forever grateful for our time with her. She was loved from the beginning, through the middle, at the end, and forever more.

"Twenty-four weeks into pregnancy with my fourth child, Amelia Rose, my daughter was diagnosed with multiple congenital anomalies that were not compatible with life. We were told she would most likely NOT make it to the third trimester, let alone term. I spent the next 16 weeks of my pregnancy falling in love with my baby knowing that we would not likely ever see her alive. We were blessed with 16 weeks to plan and prepare for Amelia. We were given the miracle of time. She endured for 40 weeks against all odds.

"Choosing to create has been a driving force for me during the last part of my pregnancy. The genesis of Beyond Words Designs has given me something to hold onto as I awaited Amelia's birth. I truly believe that it will be a lifeline; a way for me to crawl out of the devastation and help others by creating beauty from pain.

"So many bereaved parents suffer from the purposeful deletion of their child's name in conversation. The death we experience is hard enough, but the loss of hearing our child’s name spoken aloud, is a continuous trigger for our grief. I could not bear the thought of this happening to Amelia. So, I painted her name along with words that represent the amazing blessings she has already given us. Amelia's canvas hangs proudly above our fireplace in the most visible part of our home, inviting all who come into our home to feel it is safe to speak her name aloud."

Stephanie creates hand-painted acrylic works for bereaved parents at Beyond Words Designs. She writes about her journey and grief at Carried Through Grief.

Untitled, Stephanie Dyer

Untitled.
Stephanie Dyer.
Acrylic.

:::
about the piece.
This piece is for a mama and papa overseas, who have lost three children. They wanted a family portrait that would show all of them together. The two background couples symbolize two of their children who were born, and then died. The center depiction of this couple is of the child that was stillborn. This couple has had each pregnancy photographed, with the daddy encircling the mama and I wanted to continue that expression of love and support in my painting. I have added a close up of one of the background couples that I believe depicts the grief of a Father, particularly well. -Stephanie

about the artist.
Stephanie Dyer describes her loss and her journey, "Amelia Rose Dyer was born gently and peacefully on March 11, 2010. She weighed 7 lbs. 12 oz., was 20 inches long with lots of dark hair and simply beautiful. Jesus got to hold her before we did, but we are forever grateful for our time with her. She was loved from the beginning, through the middle, at the end, and forever more.

"Twenty-four weeks into pregnancy with my fourth child, Amelia Rose, my daughter was diagnosed with multiple congenital anomalies that were not compatible with life. We were told she would most likely NOT make it to the third trimester, let alone term. I spent the next 16 weeks of my pregnancy falling in love with my baby knowing that we would not likely ever see her alive. We were blessed with 16 weeks to plan and prepare for Amelia. We were given the miracle of time. She endured for 40 weeks against all odds.

"Choosing to create has been a driving force for me during the last part of my pregnancy. The genesis of Beyond Words Designs has given me something to hold onto as I awaited Amelia's birth. I truly believe that it will be a lifeline; a way for me to crawl out of the devastation and help others by creating beauty from pain.

"So many bereaved parents suffer from the purposeful deletion of their child's name in conversation. The death we experience is hard enough, but the loss of hearing our child’s name spoken aloud, is a continuous trigger for our grief. I could not bear the thought of this happening to Amelia. So, I painted her name along with words that represent the amazing blessings she has already given us. Amelia's canvas hangs proudly above our fireplace in the most visible part of our home, inviting all who come into our home to feel it is safe to speak her name aloud."

Stephanie creates hand-painted acrylic works for bereaved parents at Beyond Words Designs. She writes about her journey and grief at Carried Through Grief.

Worlds Apart, Amy McCarter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Worlds Apart

Acrylics 8X8 October 2010

Contribution to the first 365 travel journal

 

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about the contributor.
Amy lives in North Carolina with her husband and two greyhounds. Amy describes her journey, "Our only child Liam was born alive and apparently healthy on September 25, 2007, and was the joy of our lives. Our son Liam died soon after birth due to unexplained/unknown causes, shattering our world and our hearts. Art is an expression and release of my grief, and a way to honor the memory of our little man who is missed beyond words." Amy maintains a blog showcasing her Creative Everyday Challenge at Surviving the Day Every Day. 

George Ellsworth, Brianna.

George Ellsworth.
Brianna.
Acrylic.

:::

about the piece.

Even though I have three photographs of George after he was born and died, the ones I keep going back to look at when I want to see him are the ultrasound images. I think it is because when I look at those images I remember that once upon a time he was alive and healthy. I just wish I had more of them, which is why I decided to paint my own version of my favorite of those ultrasound images. He looks so much like his father in this one that when I look at it I can imagine what he would have looked like as a little boy.--Brianna

about the artist.
Brianna lives with her husband in their tiny apartment in Los Angeles. Together they are missing their son, George, who died at 29 weeks on March 31, 2010. Brianna blogs about her grief and finding her path through life again at Daily Amos.

Untitled, Lindsay.

Untitled.
Lindsay.
24" x36"
Acrylic paints, handmade paper, glass, sand and gloss medium on canvas.

:::

about the painting.
This piece began after I was discharged from the hospital and Zoe-Beth was still there on a ventilator. Many things are represented here. My torn placenta, the beauty, pain, new life and longing. I feel like this painting truly represents where I was at during and after my daughter's short life and death. It hangs above the dining table to remind me of the past, but to also remind me of the beauty the future may hold for me yet. --Lindsay


about the artist.
Lindsay is an artist and mother of three. In September 2007, Lindsay had a full placental abruption at 32 weeks with her second daughter Zoe-Beth. Zoe lived for three weeks. Lindsay blogs about her life, art and journey at La La Land.

Remembering Zoe-Beth on her third birthday.  

Jesse Gilad, Our Life, Our Light, Rob.

Jesse Gilad, Our Life, Our Light.
Rob.
Acrylic.

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about this piece.
Rob describes his painting, "On arriving home from the hospital for the first time after our son Jesse’s funeral, I felt a strong desire to create something. I am no artist. The painting that somehow emerged in a matter of hours symbolizes my burning heart and the clockwise journey around the canvass that its beats will follow - finally coming to acceptance that Jesse is a rest.

"While his little body is entombed by the earth, his soul is free and is represented by the white surrounding light. The canvas was painted with acrylic applied with only a rag and my finger.

"A friend (also grieving) who viewed this piece for the first time looked at the painting and pointed to respective places in the picture that represented his and his wife’s place in the grieving cycle. My wife and I now find it useful to do the same, pointing at a place and saying, 'I’m here today.' It seems the closer to the red burning, the more intense the grief.

"Jesse’s middle name ‘Gilad’ is a Hebrew word meaning ‘a monument’ and the stone structure in the right hand corner is symbolic of this and depicts his grave. Interestingly though, our 5 year old nephew looked at it and commented, 'How did you draw that boat?'”

about the contributor.
Rob’s son Jesse was stillborn at 38 weeks in 2010. While he has played with acrylics for a year or two mainly trying copy colorful designs, it took this huge grief to push him to spontaneously create an own original artwork which has served as a therapeutic tool and as a reference of where he is in the grieving cycle. He has not been able to paint again since, but hopes to do so one day soon.

Self-portrait, Rachel

Self portrait.
Rachel.
Watercolor/pen.
5x7

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about the artist.
Rachel lives in Kansas with her husband of four years and a gray cat. They lost their first child, Lyra, at 30 weeks due to placental abruption on December 18, 2009. Rachel maintains a blog called Curls O Fred.

I Love Noah, Caitlin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Love Noah.

Caitlin.

Acrylic.

:::

about the piece.

Amanda describes this piece, "My four and a half year old daughter, Caitlin, did this painting on the estimated due date of our miscarried baby (we named Noah Joel) on October 24, 2008.

 

"I stayed home from work on that date and picked her up from Montessori and she asked me why I didn't have 'work clothes' on.  I told her I'd had the day off from work.  She asked me why and I told her that I wanted to have the day off to remember Noah.  She told me she was sorry and when we got home she painted me the picture I attached.  It has 10 lines above the 'I Love Noah' part.  She said the 10 lines were for the 10 'months' he spent with us in my tummy.  He of course did not live for 10 months.  He went to heaven only after almost 10 weeks (9 and a half weeks) in my womb.  But to her at that time, weeks and months were the same.  And, I never told her how long he was with us.  How did she know to draw 10 lines?  The innocence and insightfulness of a child will never cease to amaze me.  Caitlin was heartbroken to learn of her younger brother's passing.  Some days I think she might have taken it harder than me (and I was devastated and will never truly get over my loss).

 

"I published Caitlin's painting and talked about in this post on my blog." 

 

about the contributors.

Amanda talks about her son, "We lost Noah Joel Hoyt on March 26, 2008.  His name means rest; peace & The Lord is God.  He will never be forgotten." Amanda maintains a blog called the Hoyt family.

 

 

Creative Prompt I: Response from Ines.

I was thinking of this scene in the Cher movie, Mask, where a character is asked to describe the color blue for someone who was born blind. After I saw that movie, I looked up the word "blue" in the dictionary. It said, "The color of the clear sky," which also doesn't help if you are blind. These days this exercise reminds me of our grief journey. It is hard to describe what this experience is like if you have not lost a child, and yet I so desperately seek to be understood by those I love.

Creative Prompt I is to draw or craft Grief.

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Mountain of Hurt.
Ines.
2.5" x 3.5" Artist Trading Card
Watercolor.

:::

about the artist.
Ines, aka forward tumble, is a 42 year old mother of Fionn who died before he was born in June 2008. After a year of serious illness, she is learning to live her life without her child.

In Ines’ words, “While art and creativity has always somewhat been part of my life, I used to take a lot of pictures (still do) to capture the beauty of life. I have recently discovered art as a new way of expressing and releasing parts of me from within. I now pursue art in a more deliberate way because it seems to cleanse/liberate me which helps both in my grieving and life in general.”

Ines lives in rural Ireland in a house in a big field two miles from the sea. She maintains a number of blogs: forward tumble; daily forward tumble, chronicling her Creative Everyday Challenge; Fionn, a blog about her son; and tunnel time, a blog about growing vegetables in a poly tunnel in Ireland.

Ann's Tree of Joy, Natasja

 

Ann's Tree of Joy.
Natasja

:::

about the piece.
In Natasja's words, "Through the loss of my own daughter, I have found a very good friend in another babylost mother, a wonderful woman named Ann. I painted this piece as a gift for her. She and her husband lost their only children, Sille & Oliver, a gorgeous set of twins. Because of Ann's cervical incompetence, their precious babies were born to early, and to small to live. Sille lived for an hour, and Oliver lived for four hours. They both passed in the arms of their loving mother, and with the presence and love of their father. I wanted to do something special for Ann, and since I've been painting a lot after I lost my daughter, I decided to do a painting.

"Ann loves butterflies, she says they bring her joy. I painted a tree that grows butterflies, so she will never run out of joy. With all the other butterflies, is a little pink one and a little blue one. They, of course, symbolize her beloved babies. They needed to be a part of this painting, because they gave their mommy so much joy, when she carried them.

"If joy grew on trees, I think this it what the tree would look like."

about the artist.
Natasja lives in Denmark. She lost her daughter, Madicken, August 2, 2009. She died due to blood clots in her placenta, and was born still at 25 weeks gestation.

The Facelessness of Grief, Anne

The Facelessness of Grief.
Anne.
Acrylic.

:::

about this piece.
Anne talks about her painting, "This piece is called 'the facelessness of grief.' It is how I feel I look to everyone on the outside world . When I venture out, I have no face, no expression, I am not there."

about the artist.
Anne's only child and son 'Harvey' died from a neurodegenerative disorder when he was 13 months, one day and 2 and a half hours old. This was nearly 3 months ago now. Anne blogs at Harvey's World.

Untitled, Jill

Untitled.
Jill.
Glass Paint on Acetate.

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about the piece.
Jill describes her piece, "Like many of us, I love to hear my baby's name and I love to see it written - a way of holding her in this world from which she's gone. I've used bold primary colours which vie with the translucence of the paint - substance versus the ethereal."

about the artist.
Jill's third child (her second daughter), Emma, died during labour at 40 weeks on 14th October 2008. Jill is awaiting the arrival of our fourth child within the next few weeks. She blogs about my beautiful girl and my journey without her at Only a Whisper.

Together, Rachel.

Together.
Rachel.
Watercolor.

:::

about the piece.
Rachel explains her piece, "This signifies the leaning on one another that babylost parents/friends/family have to do. We can't do this alone. I personally see this and my husband and I, with Lyra as the star."

about the artist.
Rachel lives in Kansas with her husband of four years and a gray cat. They lost their first child, Lyra, at 30 weeks due to a cord accident on December 18, 2009. Rachel maintains a blog called Curls O Fred.

Locket, Jess

Locket.
Jess.
Acrylic on sketch pad. 

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about this piece.
Jess explains this piece, "This is a painting of a jet Victorian mourning locket I wear which contains some of Iris' ashes. The initials AEI stand for Amity, Eternity, Infinity."

about the contributor.
Jess lives in Birmingham, United Kingdom, with her husband David and children Ava and Moe. Jess' second daughter Iris was stillborn May 2008. For work, Jess creates and facilitates drama-based communication and cultural programmes for large organisations. She also owns a family business with her husband: an artisan cheese shop and deli called Capeling and Co. She maintains a blog called After Iris. Jess has begun a blog, After Iris Reads Aloud, where she makes voice recordings of a favorite poem or meaningful piece of writing in the memory of a loved one. 

Faith, Stephanie Dyer

Faith.
Stephanie Dyer.
Acrylic.

:::

about the piece.
In Stephanie's words, "This piece is entitled Faith.  It has been a passion of mine to celebrate pregnancy and birth.  Instead of buying a shower gift for friends, I painted.  I wanted to always remember that Amelia's pregnancy was beautiful and full of faith.  For 16 weeks we lived with the uncertainty of each day possibly being the day she would die.  She made it to my due date and died the next day.  Throughout the journey, I had faith that I would see my sweet girl alive, before her spirit flew to heaven.  This was not to be.  But the image speaks to what I felt the entire second half of my pregnancy."
about the artist.
Stephanie Dyer describes her loss and her journey, "Amelia Rose Dyer was born gently and peacefully on March 11, 2010. She weighed 7 lbs. 12 oz., was 20 inches long with lots of dark hair and simply beautiful. Jesus got to hold her before we did, but we are forever grateful for our time with her. She was loved from the beginning, through the middle, at the end, and forever more.

"Twenty-four weeks into pregnancy with my fourth child, Amelia Rose, my daughter was diagnosed with multiple congenital anomalies that were not compatible with life. We were told she would most likely NOT make it to the third trimester, let alone term. I spent the next 16 weeks of my pregnancy falling in love with my baby knowing that we would not likely ever see her alive. We were blessed with 16 weeks to plan and prepare for Amelia. We were given the miracle of time. She endured for 40 weeks against all odds.

"Choosing to create has been a driving force for me during the last part of my pregnancy. The genesis of Beyond Words Designs has given me something to hold onto as I awaited Amelia's birth. I truly believe that it will be a lifeline; a way for me to crawl out of the devastation and help others by creating beauty from pain.

"So many bereaved parents suffer from the purposeful deletion of their child's name in conversation. The death we experience is hard enough, but the loss of hearing our child’s name spoken aloud, is a continuous trigger for our grief. I could not bear the thought of this happening to Amelia. So, I painted her name along with words that represent the amazing blessings she has already given us. Amelia's canvas hangs proudly above our fireplace in the most visible part of our home, inviting all who come into our home to feel it is safe to speak her name aloud."

Stephanie creates hand-painted acrylic works for bereaved parents at Beyond Words Designs. She writes about her journey and grief at Carried Through Grief.

Battle of Light vs. Dark, Amy McCarter

Battle of Light vs. Dark.
Amy McCarter.
Acrylic.

:::

about the piece.
In Amy's words, "I sat down to paint the battle of light vs. dark that constantly wages in my soul since Liam's death in Spring of 2009. Over time I have found strength in knowing my friends, both in real life and on-line, are standing behind me while I live with this struggle. As my brush moved across the canvas paper circles emerged, and those circles turned into flowers. I then realized the flowers represent my friends, my source of support and strength. The larger flowers represent the two forces within me that battle, constantly. Light being Hope, happiness, love and all the pleasant emotions one can feel. Darkness being Despair, anger, envy, bitterness and all the deep ripping emotions of grief."

about the artist.
Amy lives in North Carolina with her husband and two greyhounds. Amy describes her journey, "Our only child Liam was born alive and apparently healthy on September 25, 2007, and was the joy of our lives. Our son Liam died soon after birth due to unexplained/unknown causes, shattering our world and our hearts. Art is an expression and release of my grief, and a way to honor the memory of our little man who is missed beyond words."

The Weight of it All, Rachel

The Weight of it All
Rachel
Watercolor

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about the piece.
In Rachel's words, "This is my depiction of the weight that I feel. It's always there. I assume it may someday become less heavy...or maybe I just replace it with other things as I progress through life without my daughter."

about the artist.
Rachel lives in Kansas with her husband of four years and a gray cat. They lost their first child, Lyra, at 30 weeks due to a cord accident on December 18, 2009. Rachel maintains a blog called Curls O Fred.

Grief Filled Breasts, Amy McCarter

Grief Filled Breasts.

Amy McCarter.

Painting.

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about this piece.

In Amy's words, "This painting originated as a pencil sketch and evolved into what is shown now. I created this piece long after the trauma was lived but I needed to express the experience in a visual form. It seemed this particular grief was rarely honored, and I needed to remember and honor this painful experience. 

"After Liam died, my body was still programmed to be a mommy. My breasts filled with milk and became extremely painful both physically and emotionally. The nurses helped to bind my breasts and advised me not to stimulate my breasts in any way. I was to avoid the warm water falling upon them during a shower and was to bind them at all times. I felt so helpless, so pathetic and broken. My husband would carefully unbind my swollen and worthless breasts before I could step into the shower, being so cautious to avoid the water stream, wanting my aching breasts to shrink and the milk to dry up. The reflection in the mirror was of a body I did not recognize with a sagging, deflated stomach and large swollen breasts. We would sadly bind them immediately after I dried off, both of us crying for what was and was not. The pain was sharp and ripped through my chest and the tears that flowed were from both emotional heartache and physical discomfort."

about the artist.

Amy lives in North Carolina with her husband and two greyhounds. Amy describes her journey, "Our only child Liam was born alive and apparently healthy on September 25, 2007, and was the joy of our lives. Our son Liam died soon after birth due to unexplained/unknown causes, shattering our world and our hearts. Art is an expression and release of my grief, and a way to honor the memory of our little man who is missed beyond words."