sharing your stories and remembering your children
By Emily Carrington
EPLA Executive Director
Fall used to be my favorite season. The pumpkin spice latte, leggings, scarves & sweaters, fall activities, pumpkin picking, Halloween, everything - I LOVED EVERYTHING about fall.
Now as the air changes I feel a sense of dread. The smells trigger sadness, and I find myself in a sense of general malaise.
In some ways, these were all the things I thought I loved about fall. I loved that fall had a feeling, that fall was a rhythmic dying to give way to winter. Fall was a complicated season, and I loved thinking I was complicated.
But that was before my babies died.
In September 2014 I was pregnant with our second pregnancy. I had lost my first baby in May at 11 weeks gestation. But I had hope that this time, everything would be fine.
Everything was not fine. In late September I learned our baby once again had no heartbeat, and I went on to labor at home, delivering our second little one in early October.
As I muddled through the grief of this second loss, I quickly approached the due date of our first baby. We were supposed to have a baby the week of Thanksgiving. Now I had lost two and was buried in grief. I laid in bed, sobbing through Thanksgiving preparations.
The following year, in late August, I learned I was miscarrying before I even knew I was pregnant.
I did not consciously associate my losses with fall. I did not poetically tie together the passing of nature and the passing of my babies.
But now, many years later, my body reminds me. As fall comes, so does my sadness.
But this year I hope to redeem the fall.
Fall brings death, but it also brings rest. While many flowers die, others simply go dormant. While leaves fall, trees rest. Nature takes the winter to prepare for spring. We welcome the rhythm of fall because our bodies need rest.
I want to give myself that rest this year. Rest from grief, rest from worry, rest from dread.