Take a picture. It will last longer.

Tonight I am thinking of my first son and the people he still brings into my life. His birth bonds me to other baby loss moms. It's not the kind of club you'd clamor to be a part of, but it's a close knit community just the same.

In recent months I have heard about two moms losing their babies. Their situations were similar to mine, but our birth experiences differed. While I believe that I can understand some of what their losses feel like, I can't say that I know exactly what their grief feels like.

Giving advice on something like baby loss is very difficult. Each person has a very personal journey. I don't think everyone needs the same things. It's also hard to know what anything other than your own ordeal was like. I liken it to something else I've been asked a lot about recently - being an only child. I can talk a lot about how I think it has shaped me, but I'll never know what it's like to have siblings so I can't really compare it to anything. In this same way, I can offer advice here, but I can't assume that there is a one-size-fits-all answer either. Still, I will offer up one thing here: if you are opting for elective induction (and I would recommend that if you aren't just letting your labor begin on it's own), take pictures. Create memories. I have said this when I posted my series on my birth experience, and I'm saying it again now.

I know, I know. It feels strange to create memories of such a traumatic thing, but when I hear about moms without keepsakes, it breaks my heart. I was told that I'd want pictures when I was planning Noah's birth. I resisted the idea. It felt wrong. Sad. Scary. I felt like I was afraid to even look at him in the first place, so taking pictures was certainly a foreign concept. However, I'm really glad that I took the advice I was given. I want to pass it on here. I might be wrong, but I suspect that it would benefit most people in their grieving process. I haven't looked my pictures of Noah much, but they are there when I want them. That's invaluable. You know what else? I find that it validates his life for me. He existed. He was important. I can honor him by facing him once in awhile and remembering him exactly as he was.

It's strange how time softens certain memories, and I can be honest with myself and say that it's true for me. The things I endured seem like they happened in another lifetime in some ways, yet those things are a constant part of who I am today. He's always with me. I can barely type these things without tears welling up in my eyes. It's distant yet fresh at the same time. Looking back on my grief makes it seem like it was a quick, efficient process. I know that's not true. Time has done that to my many memories. Still, I think it was made more efficient because of the keepsakes I have. I didn't realize it at the time, but I don't want to forget.

For all of the baby loss moms who have their little ones only in their memories, I'm thinking of you. You might feel that you've made the right choice in not having tangible keepsakes and who am I to argue? I'm sure that it works for many. It's just not for me. For those who have regrets, I'm so sorry. Some decisions in life are irreversible and this is one of them. Please don't beat yourself up. You made the decision to the best of your ability at the time and that's all that you can expect of yourself. You can still heal. You can. For the moms who are just facing a diagnosis and who are planning the arrival of their angels right now, I urge you to create keepsakes. Take pictures. Get a hat you can place on your baby that you will keep. Baptize or bathe your little one. Wrap them in a special blanket that you'll keep. Sing a special song that you can remember as yours together. Make memories. This might seem like something you won't want to remember, but my best guess is that most people will feel as I do. Five years on, you will treasure those memories. For me, they have been essential to healing.