27 people from 11 families participated. The wind kept blowing our candles out at first, but we found some protection by the reeds along the shore and finally were able to keep them lit.

I spent today making votives for the people coming to the one here in Austin, Texas. If you are hosting one, and would like to use this label for votives of your own, feel free to right-click and “Save picture as.” It is designed for standard address labels, Avery 8160. It does not have to be printed in color. It looks good in black and white too.

The Austin candle lighting will be at the lighted fountains in Butler Park, which is behind the Parmer Events Center (Long Center.) It’s easiest to park along the street on Riverside. We generally light them by the water’s edge, but you will find us by our candles.

Here are the final votives and how they turned out. You can get little candles like these for about $4 a dozen.

Blessings to all of you who will mark this day for your lost babies.

I want to remind all of you that October is Pregnancy Loss Awareness Month. Robyn Bear, founder of the organization that got the designation of this month in all 50 states, has a listing of all the public walks and candle lightings that will be going on. You can see those on her walk page. If you don’t have one near you, start one!

If you are looking for items for your babies, she has lots of lovely jewelry, stepping stones, boxes, and many other memorial pieces. You can see those at her store. She has beautiful pink and blue awareness ribbon car magnets for just $4 to help you spread the word.

And my own memorial book is safely at the printer! In the Company of Angels is done and many of you proud mamas are already preordering your copies. They should be here in a few weeks. I can’t WAIT to fill one out for Casey Shay! You can find out about ordering it at the publishing company web site.

It’s been an amazing month! The video I made (see it in the upper right corner of this screen) has gotten thousands of views. People are starting to understand how important our babies are. They are not to be forgotten, but real people who made a huge impact on our lives.

Sometimes it seems as though life gives you the skills and experiences to do the one thing you were meant to do. And I think the path that lead me to this book was that:

• to decide against journalism as a career
• to teach journalism instead and to sponsor the school yearbook
• to learn darkroom and photography in order to teach it
• to embark on a photography career when I left teaching after the loss of my first baby

It all comes back around to having the ability to make the images for this book, and to have the lovely little clients to pose for it. And to know a community I can share it with.

I am blessed.

See more images at the Facebook page for the publisher.

You can also watch the video trailer for the book.

I have had quite a few of these lately, and I’m talking about them because if you’re here right now, you’re probably either scared or grieving, worrying about a little blood you just found, or having some cramping, or waiting for test results and looking for information on the internet.

I’m here to tell you that even if the worst happens, an overwhelming majority of you (yes, YOU) will go on next time to have a healthy baby. You will never forget this one, and you will always carry a bit of grief in your heart over this loss. But you will go on, and you will find the courage to try again.

One thing about talking to women in the middle of a loss every day, as I do, is that you learn to appreciate the happy endings. So many of us have a very difficult journey into motherhood, full of despair we never knew we’d feel in connection with what was supposed to be the most joyous period of our lives.

But we do find our way. For a few, it might be adoption or recurring miscarriage treatments. But for most of us, we’ll perservere, and that baby we long for will come. And when it happens to you, I’m delighted to hear about it.

Here is a sneak peak at one of the new images. All the angels featured in the book are children who lost a brother or sister. This is Addeline and Teresa, born after their mom lost three precious babies. I first met their mom via this web site, and later she moved nearby and came for pictures! I am so pleased to have them in the book.

I hear from the occasional dad after the loss of a baby. Usually he is worried about mom, wanting to know what he can do or say to help. It’s unusual, although it happens, for him to be sad for himself.

For moms who feel the father of the baby is not grieving like she is, remember that in a relationship, the balance dictates that only one of us can fall apart at a time. He may be holding down his grief to make sure he can be there for you, and he may prefer to keep it private.

I assure you that he notices Father’s Day, especially if the lost baby would have been his only child. He may not cry about it, he may not be emotional. And he may not need for you to recognize him on this day, or even be very open to talking about how this day might affect him.

Sometimes, though, dads find ways to express their grief and pain. Gerrit Hofsink lost his first grandson to stillbirth. He has written and produced a song for the baby. It’s a beautiful song — you can hear it here:

http://www.myspace.com/gerrithofsink

And if you love it, you can buy it for $1 here:

http://cdbaby.com/cd/hofsink 

Gerrit is working with me on some wonderful tribute projects using the song.

Tom of the UK band Oswald also wrote a song for his child:

http://oswaldtheband.com/littlesoul/

His song is also available for purchase, to benefit grief organizations.

So Dads, this day is for you.

Maybe you were pregnant and recently lost your little one. Maybe you’re in the process of miscarrying now. Or maybe you’re having scary symptoms and fear that a loss may be imminent.

No matter where you are in this journey, you are a mother. You felt hope and joy when you learned you were expecting. You made plans and dreams about your baby’s future. You wanted nothing more than a happy, healthy baby.

This is what all we mothers want. It makes no matter whether you were a mother a few weeks into a pregnancy, or 80 long years of life: you are a mother. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.

On Sunday, we celebrate you. Even when the thought of being a mother is bittersweet, on this day, I like to just remember the sweet.

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Need to connect with other mourning moms? Our Facts about Miscarriage Facebook Group is a new community of women united in our losses, to tell our stories, leave our pictures, and find each other. If you belong to Facebook, join the group and invite others.  Joining Facebook is always free.

I get both scenarios in my inbox. Women who don’t see how they can make it through the due date or the anniversary of the loss, who may take off work or go through elaborate rituals. And women who suddenly realize — it passed by without my realizing it. Both things can send you spiraling.

But truly, either thing is a normal part of the process of healing. If you discover renewed grief on that day, then roll with it. Find a way to channel that emotion — make something for the baby, maybe a candle or an ornament, or if you aren’t crafty, do something good for someone else. Take a box of food to a food bank or a couple packages of diapers to a woman’s shelter. These are good and wonderful things you can do in honor of your baby.

And if you find the day has passed without your marking it — that’s okay too. The people who love us (and that includes our angels!) want to see us healing and back to living our lives. There is no better way to honor the ones we have lost than to be happy, healthy, and keeping their memories an important, but not necessarily debilitating, part of how we spend our days.

I got a jolt seven years ago when my ob/gyn tried to schedule Elizabeth’s c-section on April 28, the day we learned Casey had died in 1998. I was adamant — no way. So he tried the 30th, which was the day I had my D&E and actually lost the baby. I told him, “You can schedule it for that day, but I’m not going to show up.”

We settled on May 1, and Elizabeth arrived in all her glory, and my Casey days remained his. This time of year is always a mixed bag of somber and joyful, memories and celebrations. But if in the throes of party planning and preparing for sister’s big day, I don’t remember to bring my revelry to a halt to think of Casey, that’s fine too. He’s probably off playing somewhere anyway.

I’ve had a four-fold increase in direct emails since the new year began. Heartbreaking stories, difficult moments. Many of you feel so very alone.

I’ve heard women say things that make me so sad that in the ten years since this site began, so little has changed in how we feel about revealing the extent of our grief:

• On Facebook, a woman wrote me thanking me for the private support, but she couldn’t join the Facts about Miscarriage support group because she didn’t want any of her Facebook friends to know she’d lost a baby. (Note that you have to be a member of Facebook–which is free–to see our Facebook group.)
• Via email, another woman felt uncomfortable sharing the name of her baby, as she thought others would think it silly to name her lost child.
• And everywhere, friends tell me how they keep their pregnancies to themselves for months, “just in case.” They don’t want others to know about the baby should they have a miscarriage.

I understand all this. I’ve been in these places, felt these things. But I want, really really want, a world where life CAN be celebrated from the moment it is known to exist. That we CAN tell our friends and family about this devastating loss, and feel loved and supported as we would in any death in the family. That we would NEVER feel guilty or as though we did something wrong, that the miscarriage was our fault.

This year I’m going to work even harder to make this happen. I’m applying for fellowships, trying to find time (and grant money to support me) to finish Baby Dust. I want to get this so visible, so public, so open, that we can change this feeling that we should hide what has happened.

We can’t change the miscarriage rate. This year, like most years, 6 million women (in the US) will get pregnant and almost 1 million of them will lose her baby. We are probably one of the single largest groups that suffers so silently.

I know from your emails, your notes, and your blog posts that you are having a hard time. 2009 isn’t starting off anything like you hoped. But this is a year we will get stronger. We’ll make something out of what has happened to us. And we’ll change things, because our babies, those beautiful little life-lights, live through us.