Over the past couple months, there's been something in my gut urging me to write, to get down on paper as much I can about our journey with Cara over the past two years. This urge and feeling, and I suppose what some would say is a "call" has surprised me. I've never considered myself a writer, but over the past year I've realized how much I enjoy writing. This blog is a sacred space for me to write and express my feelings, and connect to Cara as I do so. In the process of blogging, I also get to share my journey with those of you who are reading this now, and whose support through taking the time to read this blog means so much to us. We don't say it enough, but thank you.
So, I've decided that this summer I'm going to focus on writing a book for Cara. I'm going to spend some time writing before work (at 5am with coffee in hand on course!) and during lunch breaks and some evenings. My initial goal will be to spend at least 5 hours a week writing.
My primary purpose is to document our journey with Cara...from Cynthia and I starting to think about starting a family to one year later after her death. Cara means everything to us and I want to be able to specifically remember the ways in which she has changed our lives. I want to be able to share this book with our kids one day.
My secondary purpose is to possibly publish the book and share it with other people. I don't know of any books on stillbirth written from a Dad's perspective, so maybe this book could one day provide some comfort and hope to another dad whose lost his baby.
I told my counselor about this new project on Wednesday night as tears started welling up in my eyes. He responded by saying that it seems like this project was something very near and dear to my heart. He summed it up perfectly. This story is something that is etched on my heart and with me everywhere I go. Like I told my counselor, "Cara's story is something that I can't keep inside of me, I need to get it out." For me, it's a way to connect to Cara and let her voice be heard...a beautiful, little, quiet voice that always lives in our hearts and that has changed us forever.