Bear's Heart, Claire

This photo was taken the day after I returned home from the hospital after the loss of our second child this summer. I took a shower upon returning home, and the steam revealed the message I had written in soap from the last shower I had taken while still pregnant. I had written the would-be nickname of our son, and a single heart, which appeared on the glass shower wall. The image is now the background on my phone and is a daily reminder of my two lost loves. I've been working up the courage to submit it for months now.

about the artist:

I'm 29 years old, live in Northern Virginia and married my high school sweetheart. Our first son, Daniel, was stillborn after 32 weeks of pregnancy on September 10, 2010. The cause of his death is officially unknown, but is suspected to have been linked to preeclampsia. This summer we lost a second child, also a son, to a second trimester miscarriage after a "low-risk" procedure to rule out problems caused an infection. "A man often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it." This entry has been a long time coming. I'm beginning the journey to find myself again. -Claire

Calypso, Melissa

North Shore, Oahu, Hawaii

Wreck Rock ~ Deep Water National Park ~ Australia

Waiheke Island, New Zealand

My daughter's life can be summed up in a few words. A short life that spanned the sea. Calypso Paikea Rhyder, her very name came from the sea. She was my ocean baby. Only three weeks and 2 days she spent with us, but her name has touched thousands of hearts and has rested on hundreds of seashores.

This entry isn't something 'I've' personally done. It's a project I put out into the world two years ago and that is still going on. Two years ago for Calypso's second birthday I asked some friends to write her name into the seaside at the ocean in the sand. I'm landlocked and couldn't do it. The photos started rolling in. Now in 2011, Calypso's named has touched over 250 shorelines and I've received over 300 photos. From South Africa, to the UK to the USA. Her name has touched the short.

I'm attaching a few of these photos. This year on April 15, 2011 my friend on Waiheke Island in New Zealand put my daughter's ashes into the sea for her final journey. I've not been able to go down to the sea myself, but someday.... I will. In the meantime I pray Calypso's name continues to touch on different shores and land on different hearts.

E kore te aroha
e maroke i te rā,
Mākūkū tonu i
aku roimata e.

From one of the lullabys I sang to her while she lived

My love will never
be dried by the sun,
It will be forever moistened
by my tears.

Thank you for allowing me to share my girl. and my project

About the artist

Melissa lives in Indiana with her husband and 2 older children. Calypso was their last child. Born at 29 weeks 5 days, she lived for three weeks two days. She died of Renal Failure as a complication of an infection called NEC. Melissa runs a charity in her daughter's name called Calypso's Ocean

In November she will be moving to Ohio and then they will only be 8 hours from the Ocean. She hopes to get out there early February and finally see the Ocean for the first time since her daughter was laid to rest. You can read her blog at Scars in my Yarn

Laura's Spot, Louise

There is a place we visit in the south west of Ireland that, for various reasons, holds particular meaning for us and Laura. She is there in the landscape, in the sea, in the wind, blowing around us, whenever we visit. We have given her a walk in that place and on that walk a special spot. This summer we spent a fortnight there and invited various friends and family members to join us.

This photo, a ramshackle of kids and cousins, was taken in Laura's spot. We were out for the day walking and the kids all had a list of treasures they had to find on their way - blue flowers, heart shaped stones, Laura's spot, etc. etc. It was the closest all the cousins have ever been to all four of my children. When I asked them to stop for the picture, Astro Boy (who had been collecting wood as he walked) held up his wood to form an "L", holding Laura there proudly for all of us to see. I love this photo.

This past month here at Still Life 365 has been a pleasure and a privilege. Your photographs have been moving and poignant and beautiful. It has been an honour to hear your stories, to see your children's absent presence and to give others the opportunity to see that too. Photos are still coming in and so Angie and I have decided to continue with the theme for another while.

If you want to participate, but haven't attached your photo and emailed it in yet, now is your chance. There is still time and submissions will be welcomed as long as they land in the inbox. Just send them in to stilllife365DAYS(at)gmail(dot)com.

Thank you again for all your time and contributions.

Louise

about the artist.
Louise is a mother, a part-time educator, artist and writer from the south of Ireland. Laura was her fourth child, a wonderful gift she had hardly dared hope for. She was born in May 2009, her time on earth already passed. Louise is married to Kieran. Together they are very busy parenting their three living children as they try and come to terms with life without Laura. Louise has been guest editing on Still Life 365 for the month of October. She blogs at Radar of Chance.

Family Photo, Sally

This is a photo of a new photo that hangs on our wall of our perfectly imperfect little family. It only arrived this week and it captures my husband and I, our almost two year old son Angus and our brand new baby daughter Juliet Lily. Looks pretty good on the surface and we're all so happy, but someone is missing. Someone will always be missing.

Sally

tuesdayshope

Isabelle's Room, Nollaig

The picture with the moses basket was taken July 2010. I had spent weeks planning and preparing Isabelle's room. I did bring her home after she was born and she did spend some time in that moses basket. I read to her and played soft music. It took me some time to remove the moses basket.

The second picture is Isabelle's room as it is today, 19th Oct 2011. It is full of pictures of Isabelle, candles, butterflies, other Isabelle related things and many books on grief. For the most part, spending time in the room brings me great comfort but sometimes my heart can't cope with the memories the room holds, and sometimes Isabelle's absence makes the room cold and uninviting. Sometimes I stand in the spot where I was when I was getting ready to say my final goodbye, the spot where I savoured one last cuddle before I put her into her coffin and my heart breaks all over again.

The third picture is of a painting that hangs on the wall in Isabelle's room. Back in January a dear friend told me she had a dream about Isabelle and described it to me in detail, she said the thing that stood out the most was Isabelle's "beautiful shiney brown hair." A few months later she gave me that picture, she said she saw it and felt compelled to buy it and and when she gave it to me she said "that's her."

I wish Isabelle's room was full of an active 15 month old Isabelle. I wish I was concerned about child proofing it and not taking a picture of it.

Nollaig

Mantle, Amy

In the first month of grief my husband and I went to a store and I saw this stone statue of a family. I had to have it. As we were purchasing this item the cashier said something about family or baby ... it's been 4 years and the grief fog blocks her words ... but I do remember my eyes filling with tears. The woman sensed this statues importance and said something kind. Again, her words escape my memory.

The feathers have been found and given to us and are from the bird we find represents Liam's spirit.

The red stone heart was a gift chosen by me for Liam's 3rd birthday.

All three things sit on top of our mantle, in our living room, next to Liam's photo. They are a part of our daily lives, something we see each day.

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." Amy maintains a blog showcasing her Creative Everyday Challenge at Surviving the Day Every Day.

Jumping Rope, Angie

I really love photography, though I am a terrible photographer, so please excuse the terrible framing of this one. But the other day, as my children were playing outside in the autumn crisp air, Beatrice grabbed the jump rope, tied it to the railing and began twirling. Her imaginary friend was jumping rope with her. As the children stood there watching the imaginary friend, it hit me all at once. If Lucy lived, Beatrice would be jumping with Lucy, and Thor would be watching. There is this space, right there in this picture, where she was just cut out of our lives. In this photograph, there is a little girl shadow in the exact place where she would have been. I don't always see that in my life. This was simply an ordinary moment that made me feel the enormity of what we lost when Lucia died.

about the contributor.

Angie is the editor of still life 365. Her second daughter Lucia was stillborn after 38 weeks of pregnancy on December 22, 2008. She died on winter solstice. She writes about her experience with grief and mothering at still life with circles, shares her art and daily parenting at still life everyday and is a regular contributor to Glow in the Woods. You can read more about Angie in the about the editor section.

Without Doireann. Jillian

People always say 'you have your hands full'. I always reply that I wouldn't want it any other way. But they should be fuller. I should be pushing a double buggy as I walk my 4 year old twins to playschool. Their 10month old sister should be sitting next to her 22month old sister Doireann.

I miss that double buggy every day.

Jillian

Life in the Kitchen, Kieran

The kitchen is the heart of the house. The family is together there every day. The kids know more than they ought to about life and death but, with their ability to live in the moment (an ability which many grownups seem to have mislaid) they also know where the food is at.

After Laura, I often felt that just about the only constructive thing I could manage was to put a meal on the table. I couldn't bring Laura back but I could make sure my family was fed. Not the most naturally domesticated of men, I could at least do this thing. I found solace in butter, white wine and finely chopped shallots. Mostly the kids just wanted pasta but that was fine too.

I heard an Irish American comedian on the radio recently, talking about his upbringing. He said that his parents never mentioned or demonstrated love; it was meant to be inferred from the feeding. That struck a chord.

The other thing I could do was take pictures. I have more cameras than perhaps I ought to and I spend more time than I should at family gatherings peering through the viewfinder and twiddling the knobs in the vain hope of making something that's more than a snapshot. I have created a vast family archive in which I am almost completely absent. My presence, like the love – like Laura – is to be inferred.

At home, in the kitchen, my presence is more, well, present. With my wife, Louise, (yes this month's guest editor), Alannah, Michael and Oscar, the daily routine, the logistics, the noise, the demands for nice food - not the slop with the shallots and white wine - can almost make me feel normal.

Cast, Sinead

When I was eight months pregnant at the end of May this year, I fell down the stairs and broke my leg. Two weeks later on the 16^th June '11 my lovely girl KatieAnn was born and lived for just eleven hours. Now four months later I am still entombed in both my cast and my house.

I have sent you a photo of the 'blasted cast' because in the time since, so many people have spoken to me about the leg and not bothered to mention the death of my child. Both friend and aquaintance alike have used my leg as their crutch to lean on, endless conversations about my broken leg and hardly any at all about my broken heart.

On the other hand, the story of my leg and my KatieAnn are so entwined in my mind, I think I will be a little bit sorry to see the cast and crutches go. Just a very little.

I live in Cork, Ireland with my three other children and one husband, and I am very much looking forward to going for a walk on two feet. Its the simplest things you miss.

Sinead

Butterflies & Dragonflies, Paula

I have started to believe that there are little miracles all around us. I look for the little miracles in the sky, the trees and well everywhere. For some reason butterflies and dragonflies visit me the most often. I love them, they truly make me feel like they are little signs of miracles. It took me forever to get a photo of a butterfly that I was happy with. I also got a great shot of a dragonfly sitting on my porch one day.

The grieving process is not easy to maneuver but I do believe that there is beauty in the things around us and to capture that beauty in a drawing, photo or in words helps to begin the stage of healing.

I'm a Mother to three boys, two here on Earth and our little squishy, Braedon, who left us July 13th. I am married to the man of my dreams and after almost 17 years he still makes my heart go pitter patter. I am trying my hand at writing, drawing, sewing and well just about any form of creative release. I am hoping that by allowing my emotions to guide my hands, it will help to heal my heart.

Paula

A Moment in our Arms

Wave of Light, Louise

We were at at service of remembrance on Friday night. Our local hospital organises it annually. Towards the end of the service, after all the parents had lit candles for their children, the lights were dimmed and the hospital staff encircled the congregation with their lit candles. It never really occurred to me that our loss affected them too. They have held the service for three years now. This year there were enough staff there to stand side by side and encircle the entire congregation of a packed church.

We felt held.

Louise

Washing, Georgie

I only very recently came across the website, Still Life 365 and one of the first things I read about was your challenge for the month of October. I think it's a terrific idea and extremely thought provoking.

Please find attached two photos of the same subject - our washing! As our laundry dries in the warm Africa breeze I often wonder what our daughter would have been wearing at this stage in her young life.

I live in Jinja, a small town on the River Nile in Uganda, with my husband Chris. On the 4th September 2008 our daughter, Ella, was stillborn at 26 weeks old and our world was turned upside down. Seven months later I miscarried at 12 weeks and we were advised that our chances of conceiving naturally again were close to zero.

Six months ago, and against the odds, Leo Phoenix roared into our lives and has given me the courage to breathe again.

Georgie

Living on a Knife Edge.

Florence's Garden, Jeanette.

Florence's Garden.
Jeanette.
Photograph.

:::

about this piece.
I have a small space in my garden that we think of as Florence's garden. The stone was a gift from a dear friend, carved for us, the dove is taken from the applique I designed for Florence's burial gown.(previously submitted) I'm not much of a gardener, but I try to keep this small space pretty with plants and found objects.

The 7th of August was two years since Florence's burial, and I felt I needed to mark the occasion somehow. Last year we released Chinese lanterns, but this year that didn't seem quite right. Instead we waited till dusk, and I lit these candles in her garden. We watched the glow of the candlelight while eating apple cake and drinking tea. Simple, but it felt right. -Jeanette

about the contributor.

I'm a Mummy to six children,married to Woody. Sadly our fifth child, our youngest daughter Florence died suddenly and unexpectedly after a robustly healthy pregnancy and perfect homebirth, in July 2009. I blog about life with a large family, about babyloss,and about sewing, it's a curious mix, but then nothing is ever straight forward after you have buried one of your children. -Jeanette

Jeanette's blog is Lazy Seamstress.

Millie's Angel, Megan

Millie's Angel.
Megan.
Photograph.


:::

about the piece.
A friend and I went to our local cemetery for International Babylost Mother's Day. I found this angel atop a grave. I called it Millie's Angel. Millie was the lady buried there.

about the artist.
Megan describes herself, "I am the wife to Ken and mother of five: 17 year old Troy and four who are only with us in Spirit - Brendan (Still born 19/4/1999 - 20 weeks gestation); Cianan (stayed with us for us for 7 hours - 6/8/2000 - 22 weeks); Kavyn (Still born 31/1/2002 - 23 weeks); and Alex (Still born 17/2/2005 - 21 weeks and 5 days). Writing and art have helped me to traverse the journey that is grief.

Megan blogs at Four Ravens. Her former blog, the Rose Garden, has more of her poetry and writing.

I am a Mother, Crystal Theresa Zapanta

I am a Mother
Ocean Beach, San Francisco, Mothers Day, 2009.
Crystal Theresa Zapanta
Photography.

:::

about the piece.
After I lost my first baby, my son, Calvin Phoenix, people's well-intentioned wishes for me to "become a parent someday" were extremely hurtful and made me feel very conflicted. I spent my first Mother's Day, two months after this loss, writing names and these two messages on the beach. These photos and statements in the sand were my way of asserting that I am still a mother, even if my baby did not live. - Crystal

about the artist.
I live in San Francisco and am married to my best friend and high school sweetheart, Louie. We will be celebrating 12 years together in May. We do not have any living children, but have been blessed with three precious and deeply missed babies: Calvin Phoenix (lost at 18 weeks, March 5, 2009), Rainbow (lost at 7 weeks, December 10, 2009), and Gaelen (lost at 6 weeks, March 15, 2011).

I have "dabbled" in arts and crafts for as long as I remember, majored in English/Writing, and have dreams of getting an MFA (in creative writing or through a cross-genre/mixed-media program). Because of my babies, I am finding a new voice, greater conviction, and a renewed drive for creative self-expression.

I blog at These Fragments, I love and also create virtual remembrance cupcakes at Calvin's Cupcakes. - Crystal

I Gave my Child to God, Crystal Theresa Zapanta.

I Gave my Child to God
Ocean Beach, San Francisco, Mothers Day, 2009
Crystal Theresa Zapanta.
Photography.

:::

about the piece.
After I lost my first baby, my son, Calvin Phoenix, people's well-intentioned wishes for me to "become a parent someday" were extremely hurtful and made me feel very conflicted. I spent my first Mother's Day, two months after this loss, writing names and these two messages on the beach. These photos and statements in the sand were my way of asserting that I am still a mother, even if my baby did not live. - Crystal

about the artist.
I live in San Francisco and am married to my best friend and high school sweetheart, Louie. We will be celebrating 12 years together in May. We do not have any living children, but have been blessed with three precious and deeply missed babies: Calvin Phoenix (lost at 18 weeks, March 5, 2009), Rainbow (lost at 7 weeks, December 10, 2009), and Gaelen (lost at 6 weeks, March 15, 2011).

I have "dabbled" in arts and crafts for as long as I remember, majored in English/Writing, and have dreams of getting an MFA (in creative writing or through a cross-genre/mixed-media program). Because of my babies, I am finding a new voice, greater conviction, and a renewed drive for creative self-expression.

I blog at These Fragments, I love and also create virtual remembrance cupcakes at Calvin's Cupcakes. - Crystal

Candle, My New Normal.

Candle.
My New Normal.
Photography.

:::

about the piece.

This is the candle we bought to honor the birth and death of our first and only son. To honor his very short, yet meaningful life. It was burning as we said good bye and scattered his ashes. This photo was taken just after we scattered his ashes over the lake that you can see in the background. The fuzzy lights in the background are on the dock where we sat to say our final good byes. Such a beautiful place to remember him.-My New Normal

 

about the artist.

I'm originally from California, and I now live in London with my husband of over 12 years. We have had a great life with lots of adventures, love, and fun. On August 13, 2010 our lives were shattered when we lost our son at 36 weeks pregnant. After struggling with infertility for many years, we thought we were finally going to have our miracle baby. Sadly, this is not what happened and I struggle every day to make sense of it all.

 

I started my blog Finding My New Normal  to help work through my feelings after losing my son. It's been an amazing place for me to vent, and cry, and share my feelings and experiences. Through it I've met some amazing women and men who have also experienced loss. - My New Normal

Untitled, Susan

Untitled.
Susan.
Photograph.

:::

about the piece.
These flowers were part of the two dozen pink roses that my dad and step-mom purchased for the cemetery on Gracie's first birthday in Heaven. This photo was the product of just playing with my camera a little bit before we left the cemetery. When I was looking at the pictures later that night, this photo struck me as being representative of my pregnancy with Gracie. At first glance, it's a beautiful picture; but if you take the time to look carefully, you can see the very slightest indicator that life is already starting to slip away from the rose in the front right. When it's all boiled down, I feel like our pregnancy with Gracie went the same way. At first glance, everything looked great. There were definite signs that life was starting to slip away, it was just so easy to look past them until it was too late. -Susan

about the artist.
Susan is a mother of two beautiful girls - Gracie, who was born into Heaven on August 1, 2009, and her rainbow baby, Jenna, who was born on September 15, 2010. Gracie's story can be found at Our Lives Forever Changed.

Star Candle, Holly

Star Candle.
Holly.
Photography.

:::

about this piece.
We lit a candle in this star shaped ice mold at our daughter's grave on Christmas Eve and then again on Christmas Day before our big family dinner. On our drive home past the cemetery on Christmas Eve, almost four hours after we lit her candle, we noticed that it was still burning. It was quite a sight to see - the flickering glow of candlelight in the pitch black dead of winter. There was no other movement within the night, but our daughter continued to dance around letting us know she was with us. -Holly

about the artist.
Holly is a mother to four. Her third child, a daughter, was diagnosed with a fatal condition on the day of her birth. She lived for fifteen days, but not a moment goes by that she isn't thought of by her mom. Soon after the loss of her daughter, Holly began writing and developed an urge to capture images that would make her grief more tangible. "What motivates me is the desire to freeze these moments in time and allow others a brief glimpse of the world through the eyes of a grief-stricken parent. Losing my daughter has changed the way I see everything." Holly writes at Momentum.