Looking for light

At this time two years ago, I was one month pregnant and overjoyed with our luck. We had just moved to Nebraska and I couldn't believe that our plan to start a family was working out so perfectly. I remember the vibrant fall colors and the golden evening light falling over the rolling hills that October. I took a lot of pictures during that time, partly because I was exploring my new surroundings and partly to keep myself busy as we anxiously waited for that first pre-natal appointment.
During the ultrasound the doctor was cheerful and casual at first, but her mood suddenly turned serious as she tried desperately to find the heartbeat. The baby had died at 8 weeks, just a day or two before the appointment. It was devastating, heartbreaking and cruel. But we had hope. We had conceived once, and we would do it again.
But two years later, multiple blood tests, doctors and procedures it gets harder and harder to find the positive aspects of our not-so-unique situation. We seem to be in a constant battle between hope and despair, with one of us often helping the other find the light on dark days.
This year as I take pictures of my fall surroundings, I find that the colors are just as vibrant, the light just as beautiful as it was two years ago. But now the beauty of this season somehow cuts into my heart and brings me a certain sadness. I can't explain why exactly. It could be my whacked out hormones or my current fragile mental state. Maybe it reminds me of our loss two years ago. Either way, I'll continue to capture the bittersweet fall beauty with my camera because it makes me feel something.
So today show us a photo that makes you really feel something, anything.











23 Comments
Reader Comments (23)
"You must understand the whole of life, not just one little part of it. That is why you must read, that is why you must look at the skies, that is why you must sing, and dance, and write poems, and suffer, and understand, for all that is life." - J. Krishnamurti
it's a beautiful, sometimes painful experience. and all the more reason for us humans to simply be human and share with one another. so we all feel a little less alone even if just for this moment.
xo.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/jeroldssis/3996221083/
It's the dying light..that reminds me to feel:
http://www.marciescudderphotography.com/index.php?showimage=948
http://lifesignatures.org/wordpress/2009/10/october-7-emerging-sun/
I light candles and watch them flicker in my window some times while smiling, sometimes not :
http://www.flickr.com/photos/sammymom/3913659413/
I'm glad that we can find strength in our cameras and in one another.
http://www.christielacyphotography.com/behindthecamera/?p=59
Thank you for sharing with us here.
This is where I go, where I take my daughters, where I remember hope, beauty, love, faith, joy and intense sorrow.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/sufferingsummer/3994795556/
loves to you.
My dog has been my saving grace the last two years, both in fall and throughout the year. Watching her explore makes me smile.
Sometimes she just sniffs, and is patiently intense in her curiosity:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/tippingpointphoto/3767691098/in/set-72157610809399360/
Other times, she's just rambunctious and full of life, but graceful...most of the time:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/tippingpointphoto/3766892203/in/set-72157610809399360/
Hope these help you smile today. Thinking of you.
-Liz
Wishing you peace and a safe journey.
I took this picture while on a walk, taking some time for myself while anticipating a second miscarriage. It had just started to rain and I covered these tiny flowers with my umbrella so I could take their picture. A teeny, tiny bright spot that caught my eye at such a sad time.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/fanglord2/3607757425/in/set-72157613030267887/
http://bellarosephotography.wordpress.com/2009/10/06/new-beginning-new-venture/
And, this was a photo I took just last week on a vacation we took to help us heal:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/berylayn/3983256913/
Thank you for reminding me I am not alone as we work through our loss.
Your story hits so close....the pain in the words of a mother whose child is not growing up before her eyes, whose cheeks she cannot kiss: it is tangible.
I don't have much to share, just that I am sorry and hope that sharing this helps you not to feel alone. My first, a son, and more recently, at 24 weeks, a daughter have been taken to heaven. God knows our sorrow and our tears. He is the only reason I am still breathing.
Praying for you, Paige!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bohemiangirldesigns/3554838982/in/set-72157612657634408/
I love you so much.
One of my favorite shots, taken just a little over a month before my daughter was born and very symbolic of the hope that I held in my heart:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/31417716@N00/2651882138/in/set-72157606063031167/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/lilybeth29/4010854596/in/photostream/
and can't you feel the pounding of this river in your chest?
http://www.flickr.com/photos/lilybeth29/3680215547/