Choose Hope in 2020
In May 2014, I received the devastating news that my baby’s heart had stopped beating. As I grieved the loss of this beloved child of mine, I began to fear that the passing of time would force his memory and my affection to fade—that, with no tangible reminders of the significant place he held within our family and my heart, he would someday be overlooked or dismissed.
Within weeks of my loss, I suddenly started receiving packages from all sorts of grief groups filled with little trinkets and platitudes related to infant loss. I don’t even know how they came to have my name and address. Most of the items in those boxes were tacky and cliche, but I felt guilty for not wanting to keep them, as if, by getting rid of them, I was losing Simeon all over again. These physical reminders, however trite, seemed to be all I had left of him on this side of eternity. I didn’t want his memory to be preserved merely in baubles and printed poems littered with hackneyed phrases, but the truth was, I didn’t know how to meaningfully and purposefully remember his precious life.
The October 15 directly following Simeon’s death went largely unacknowledged in our home. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to honor and remember him, I just didn’t know what to do to “celebrate” in the first place. I also worried that people would think I was excessive in my grief if I participated in a holiday to honor a baby that I hadn’t even had the joy of seeing outside my womb, or that I was ungrateful for the gift of new life that I was now carrying within me.
Three months later, we lost that baby too.
The next spring, I attended my first Hope Mommies Retreat. On the final day of the retreat, we all participated in a balloon release to honor our precious babies. Surrounded by dozens of other brave women who had also said goodbye to their babies, my soul was strengthened. It was clear to see that this act of love and surrender was not at all excessive, but beautiful and deeply meaningful.
We released our balloons into the sky as a symbol of releasing our hold on our little ones. It was a symbolic act of faith—we were choosing to let go and surrender our babies to the Lord, trusting in His purpose for them and for us. Participating in this act of remembrance reminded me to set my heart on eternity and continually surrender myself to God’s perfect plan for my babies and me.
The poem by Rossiter Raymond sums it up well:
O God, who holds all souls in life; and calls them unto Yourself as seems best: we give them back, dear God, to You who gave them to us. But as You didst not lose them in the giving, so we do not lose them by their return. For not as the world gives, do you give, O Lord of souls: that which You give You take not away: for life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only the horizon, and the horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
Every year since, we have participated in an October 15 remembrance as a family. We each write messages of our hope and love on balloons, spend time together reflecting on the joys of heaven that await those who have put their faith in Christ, and thank God for His goodness and faithfulness to us in our sorrow. We laugh and cry and reflect. As we let our balloons float up to the heavens, we remind ourselves, and each other, to keep our gaze fixed on eternity—remembering that death is not the end.
These October 15 celebrations have helped us demonstrate to our living children just how valuable all life is. And in setting aside these times to more purposefully talk about our babies and the work that God has done in each of our lives through grief, we hold these darling babes closer in our hearts.
However you choose to observe October 15 this year, I pray that this eternal truth will settle deep within you—death is not the end. For those who know Jesus as their Lord and Savior, it’s but a momentary point on the horizon. This year on October 15, let us cling to hope, declaring through it all that Christ is enough. Our balloons will flood the skies even as His steadfast hope has flooded our hearts. And just as our balloons float up out of sight, we, who are in Christ, will one day be taken up beyond where we can see to be united with Him for all eternity.
In honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month we will be holding an Online Night of Worship with Caroline Cobb, via zoom, on Sunday, October 11 at 7:00pm Central Time. We’d love to have you join us for a time, set-apart, to PRAISE and WORSHIP the God we love—the God who holds our children until we can again. To join in this one-night only event, please pre-register here.
We also invite you to join us on October 15 for a Wave of Light. To participate, light a candle at 7pm, snap a picture, and use the hashtags #WeHaveThisHope and #HopeMommiesOCT15 on your socials.
We pray that this will be a day your motherhood feels seen and that you can remember your children in heaven with gladness, even if tears flow. Because, as Hope Moms, we know sorrow and joy coexist.
We also pray this is a day that serves as a testimony to the world of the only hope there is—the hope of Christ! May He be highly praised and exalted as we remember that “we have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure” (Hebrews 6:19 NIV).
How are you honoring your babies this October 15? We’d love to hear how you shared hope and remembered your precious babies on this day!
- Ashlee
Hope Mom to Simeon and Odelle
Ashlee is the Editorial Coordinator for Hope Mommies and author of I AM (Hope Mommies, 2017) and Identity (Hope Mommies, 2018). She and her husband, Jesse, live in Milwaukee with their children—five on earth and two in heaven.
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