It is with relief that I am finally able to write about the events of the past 7 years. I must start at the beginning to accurately share this experience with you. My son Henry died shortly after birth in April of 2017. At the time we had an almost three year old daughter at home patiently awaiting his arrival as well. We were 39 weeks along to the day when I suffered a complete placental abruption while at home. We rushed ourselves to the hospital and subsequently into and emergency caesarian section. Henry was not breathing when he was born but was resuscitated with extensive efforts by an incredible hospital team. When I awoke, I was told there was no chance he would survive, and he would be living with the assistance of machines until we made the decision to remove them. On that day nearly 13 hours after he was born, he took his last breaths in our arms. I was thrown into a state of grief and depression I never knew was possible. We spent months aching over this loss, questioning the universe, God, Karma, and any other version of higher power we could think to. There were never good answers, but together we did carry on each day for our living daughter. We went back to our jobs and our responsibilities and life went on around us.
In a time marked by so much raw despair I was approached online by a woman who had shared with me that her daughter also died of the same complication my son had - a complete placental abruption. We had a mutual friend or two, and the friend had been the one to tell her about our story. She told me her daughter was born on February 15th and had likely passed on February 14th of the same year. It was devastating to hear of her loss, but also finding someone else going through the same thing gave me a strange comfort. She also seemed to be navigating this entire thing on her own since the father of her baby was not in the picture. After a handful of Facebook messages Kayla Sorum and I met in October of 2017 when she invited me to a memorial service she was holding for her daughter Hope. The event was held on October 15th in honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. She had a tree planted in a local park overlooking the river. During the ceremony which included live music, a drone shooting video, and speeches, she placed some of her daughter's cremains and flower petals into the tree base using a simple clear glass vase. It was a touching event. We became fast friends. Over the next couple months of countless coffee dates, we formed Hopeful Heart Project to provide gifts to other mothers who would also experience the death of their children. On December 23rd, 2017, we delivered the very first gift to a mom who remains to this day a dear friend. Over the next 2 years we delivered gifts, met other moms, and started hosting events. Donations to help fund the mission started coming in right away, and it was amazing to be able to start expanding the delivery area of the gifts themselves as well as start doing more for these parents. This time wasn't only about the mission either. Kayla had this ability to write exceptional tributes to her daughter. She had started a separate IG account called LoveForHopeViolet. It was beautiful - full of photos from her pregnancy with Hope, love letters to her daughter, photos of her beautiful face with these astonishingly beautiful eyelashes. The way she was mothering her daughter in the posts was poetic. It seemed to be the way she expressed her love and her grief all at once.
One of the first events Kayla held was a cycle studio ride for family and friends to attend and help to raise money for the project. The event was successful and raised over $900. Kayla had invited many of her friends and other loss moms she had met. She even put together a memorial video that played at the end of the ride including all our children's names and photos. She had custom tank tops made with Hope's footprints printed on the backs and served champagne and fruit afterwards. It was a great first start and allowed us to officially offer "Hope Gifts" to more families. The application for our 501(c)3 was in process and we were on our way. A website was created, some branding was established, and we were navigating this whole thing together.
In February 2018 Kayla held a formal memorial service for Hope at a local event space. She had large poster size photos of her daughter on easels leading into the room, beautiful floral arrangements, a musician playing piano and singing, and speeches from her brother, and me. I gave a eulogy at this service for Hope, a beautiful baby I had never met but truly loved. In my mind Hope and Henry were inseparable in life beyond. It was a stunning event complete with a lantern release into a sunset sky. Hope’s father was invited but did not attend. The eulogy I gave can be found in the images.
We became quite close over these months. We were navigating our losses together in constant communication. Whether it was something that a well-meaning person had said that hurt, or just a day we really missed our babies. She suggested going Christmas shopping for a special book for them, would drop off a coffee for me at home, and once even left me a beautiful yellow rose, she said reminded her of Henry. It was rare for us to not communicate in some way every day. She was my grief partner for lack of a better term. We were in this together. When she found a small company online that created beautiful custom memorial jewelry, we had to get something made for our babies. Together we agreed to collect cremains from the urns we each had to send in to have captured in resin into teardrop shaped rings. You never dream of having to choose what type of vessel you will keep your child's remains in, and I couldn't possibly go into the torture of that decision here. It still sits with me that somehow, we had each chosen the same heart shaped urn for our babies. Mine was gold and hers was silver.
Together we decided we would open up the urns and collect the tiny teaspoon amount needed for the rings and package and send to the artist. This way we would have one another for support for this potentially traumatic experience. To my surprise she arrived at my house without her silver heart. Noticeably irritated I gave her a hard time about doing it without me, but she had said if she was to accidentally spill some or something happened, she would be much better equipped to manage that at her own home. She would still help me with though so on we went. Another surprise that I was unable to even get it open. It had been sealed shut by some type of glue, and so we headed to the funeral home together to see if they could assist with the process. When the employee came back out she handed me the tiny zipped bag to send, the heart now simply screwed back on, and another zipped bag with cremains inside. With all of this in hand we headed back to my house to regroup after this experience. I had to figure out how to organize what felt like a whole collection that was my son's ashes all in different places. It was an unsettling feeling. Returning the urn to it's stand, and taking some time to process I finally got the bag packed and ready to ship. The ashes in the bag looked so much different than I had anticipated they were mostly white with larger pieces of white and flecks of grey. In my mind my ring would be mostly black with flecks of grey so this was a bit of a shock. So much so that I asked Kayla if she brought hers and if I could see them, and she hesitantly agreed. She pulled out exactly what I had thought I would have. I small bag with mostly black ash and bits of grey. YES! I had said loudly. That is exactly what I thought they would look like! To which she replied that they can be all different colors depending on the method used in the crematory and the body composition at time of death. It wasn't something I had ever given any other thought to before, so it seemed logical. Months later we both received our rings back in the mail. Hers had also included breastmilk she had saved, flowers from her funeral, and tiny wisps of Hope's hair. It was truly the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. Laughingly I told her I probably need a redo because somehow mine was incredibly depressing to look at comparatively.
We carried on building the brand of Hopeful Heart Project and were about to host our biggest event yet, the first annual Love & Light remembrance concert and event. Preparations were arduous considering I was pregnant with another baby at the time, due just weeks before the scheduled event. My mind was racing with terrifying images of losing another baby, grieving Henry, maintaining my full-time interior design job, and building the organization. I simply did not have capacity to add much else to my plate. That was when Kayla shared with me that her mother had graciously agreed to pay for a professional video to be created that would highlight the mission. The video would be ready and shown at the Love & Light event, and then used for other marketing purposes in the future. Since she knew the owner of the studio creating the video, it would only be $600 that her mother was going to cover as a gift. It was generous and I was excited for this next step. Over a few weeks we recorded and held a couple editing sessions, and in the end a very mediocre video was complete. In the company's defense I don't think we gave them a lot to work with, and we were certainly not their niche client.
In the end we were grateful for the inexpensive product and with their help showed it at our event in October of that year.
The video hasn't been used since and was a big source of laughter and embarrassment for us both in the years following. I still have it today, although it is kept way under wraps. The event was a great success, and we committed to hosting it each year following. It was the moment we could see how much more impact we could make in the child loss community, and we set out to do just that.
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