A Month To Remember
Remembering & Reflecting
October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month—a time dedicated to remembering the babies gone too soon and supporting the families who grieve them. For many, this month brings a flood of emotions: sadness for what was lost, gratitude for the lives that were carried, and hope for healing even in the hardest seasons.
For our family, this month carries two meanings. We are remembering the babies gone too soon—including our own—and holding space for every family who has experienced this kind of loss. But it’s also a moment of reflection as I think back to last October, when The Heaviest Tear: Grieving Couples was released—a book that united six couples in a shared mission to bring light to the silent grief of pregnancy and infant loss.
The Heaviest Tear
The Heaviest Tear was a project that had been on our hearts for some time, but what we didn’t expect was how our own story would continue to unfold while writing it. We actually experienced two miscarriages during that season—one we learned about the same week as our very first meeting to begin the book, and another later as we were deep in the writing process. It felt almost as if the pages we were creating were holding our pain in real time. Even through tears, God reminded us that our stories—and the stories of others—still had purpose.
The couples opened their hearts to the world, allowing others a glimpse into some of the most intimate and painful moments of their lives. It takes extraordinary courage to turn private heartbreak into public testimony—to let others see the raw, unfiltered reality of pregnancy and infant loss. Their willingness to be vulnerable became an act of love, a reminder that even in shared sorrow, there is deep connection and hope.
For us, this month is both a remembrance and a reflection—a way to honor the babies we miss so deeply, and to celebrate the courage it takes to tell these stories that remind others they are not alone.
The Weight of What’s Missing — and the Power of Remembering
One of the hardest parts of pregnancy and infant loss is that your mind can’t make sense of it. Medical explanations or not, it simply doesn’t compute. There’s no equation that makes it logical—because it’s not. Life beginning and ending in the same breath defies what we’re wired to understand. For me, that made it even more important to assign my loss a purpose. To believe that somehow, even in my pain, God could use it for something good. Sometimes that purpose looks like encouraging another grieving parent, speaking honestly about my experience, or simply reminding someone else that they’re not alone.
One of the most difficult parts of our own losses in 2024 has been that we don’t have anything tangible to represent or memorialize those babies we lost. With Alana, we have pictures and a box filled with memories—the tiny blood pressure cuff from the NICU, the “It’s a Girl” sign that hung in our hospital room, the hats and blankets that kept her warm, and her ashes from when she was cremated. But for the babies we lost in 2024, we don’t have anything physical to hold onto. No footprints. No hospital bracelet. No blanket. Not even ultrasound pictures. And that absence—the lack of something tangible—can make the grief feel invisible, even though the love is just as real.
After Alana passed away, it became so important to us that she was never forgotten. Her life was very public, and her legacy has become public too. In remembrance of her, Antwon and I both got tattoos—personal reminders etched into our skin of a love that will never fade. Those tattoos have become more than ink; they’re symbols of the life that changed ours forever.
But something I’ve been wrestling with personally is how to memorialize our two babies from 2024 in a way that feels just as meaningful. I recently found a tattoo design that holds deep meaning for me, though I’ve struggled to decide where I want it placed. Maybe this Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month will be the time I finally do it—or maybe I’ll find another way to honor them. Either way, I want to make sure their lives are remembered too.
That’s why moments of remembrance matter so much. They give us something to hold onto, even if only for a moment.
The Wave of Light
As we move further into this month, I want to highlight a special day: October 15th, Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day. All across the world, families participate in the Wave of Light by lighting a candle at 7:00 PM in their time zone and keeping it lit for one full hour.. Together, these candles create a wave of remembrance circling the globe for 24 hours.
I’d love to invite you to join in. Light a candle in honor of a baby who is no longer here. Take a picture of your candle and share it with someone you know who has experienced pregnancy or infant loss. Let them know you’re thinking of them and their child. That simple act of remembrance can mean more than words ever could.
If you’ve walked this road, please know this: your grief is valid. Your baby’s life matters. And your story can bring light into someone else’s darkness.
This October, let’s remember. Let’s honor. And let’s carry forward the message that even in loss, love endures—and God is still near.
P.S. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted” (Psalm 34:18). In the moments when grief feels too heavy to carry, may His peace meet you. Lean into His love and the people who walk beside you. You’re seen, you’re loved, and you’re never alone in your remembering.
