As I said in my previous post, I will burn my candle for one hour.
I plan to do this from 11 pm tonight until midnight.
This will mark the end of my child's birthday.
Also, tonight, I plan to write my baby a letter of all the things I would like to say to him.
In the next few days, I plan on making a memorial box. I'm looking for a fairly large shoe box, preferably one that hasn't had used shoes in it for the last year. If you can provide this, I would be oh, so thankful. I don't have any lying around and I don't intend on buying new shoes anytime. I plan on making a memorial box for my child with these things in it.
* A letter to my baby of all the things I'd like to say to him. I think every year on December 21st, I will do this and add it to the box.
*The baby blanket my grandmother got me when she found out I was pregnant, if it will fit. It not, I will find somewhere else to put that.
*My ultrasounds pictures
*The baby book I filled out while I was pregnant about my first couple of hospital visits
*a home-made birth certificate
*a photo of the tattoo I got on Baby Cay's due date.
*the poem I found shortly I lost my baby that I read time and time again and still manages to bring me to tears every time.
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I bought my candle and watched as it burned away. At first new, shining bright.
My initial plan was to burn the candle for one full hour and take a picture every ten minutes, then print those photographs out and put them in my box. The candle didn't quite last that long. As I thought about it, I realized that the fact the candle didn't do as I had originally intended was quite appropriate. Much like my pregnancy, It started out strong and stable, appeared as though it had a lot of hope and was in it for the long run. As time went buy, the candle grew smaller and smaller. 40 minutes in, my little candle had come a long way. I looked forward to sitting there for the next twenty minutes thinking of how I would be celebrating my child's birthday, today. Just a minute or two later, I looked over and the candle had took a turn for the worse. It had melted all the way down the middle in just a moment's notice. The candle's journey would not last the expected hour as my child would not last the full 40 weeks. It's light grew dimmer and dimmer until it was just a tiny glimmer of hope. It took me back to the last time I saw my baby, the day I was worried something was terribly wrong. The doctor told me he saw the heartbeat, that nothing seemed wrong. That gave me the very same glimmer of hope. Then suddenly, that glimmer of hope was snuffed out.
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