I know that many of you are already familiar with the Still Project. For those of you who have not yet heard about this incredible endeavor, please take a moment to read more about it and to share it with others.
The Still Project is a feature length documentary that is being produced by Carrie and Jonathan Pascual who lost their baby girl, Elena in 2002.
The mission of the Still Project is to break the silence surrounding babyloss by educating the public with an honest and real-life glimpse into the lives of couples and families affected by pregnancy and infant loss. I can't express how important and significant this documentary is. It is truly something worth getting excited about!
We have all endured unnecessary pain due to the ignorance of others. We've all been victims of insensitive and naive comments made by those who have no clue what it feels like to lose a baby. Our lives have been turned upside-down and shattered into a million un-mendable pieces. But the rest of the world has barely been impacted.
There are SO MANY myths that surround babyloss. The worst being that we're not supposed to talk about it. Nobody talks about dead babies. People are uncomfortable or afraid to speak their names. People don't know how to ask questions. We want to talk about our children. We want to be their voices. But we are silenced by an unnecessary and outdated social taboo.
Many people don't know anything about pregnancy and infant loss. They don't understand. And they'll continue to not understand if we remain silent.
This is why the Still Project is so important. So Necessary.
Nothing will ever change if people don't take the steps to instigate the change they want to see in the world.
The Still Project will raise awareness, spread the truth, and provide a powerful voice for all of us who have lost our precious babies. This documentary will help to break the silence and to teach others that our children do matter. It will provide an accurate and profound insight into the lives of those who are permanently and tragically broken and devastated by babyloss. And I believe that this film will make an enormous impression on the world around us and will pave the way for much needed change.
Share the Still Project and #SayItOutLoud for our babies!
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Fittsie's Angels ~ How Babyloss Used To Be
I normally don't blog about other blogs because this is such a tight-knit community and sooner or later we stumble upon everyone else's blogs. I like that!
I take comfort in finding other babyloss mamas and sharing our stories and experiences with one another. I appreciate that we live in the year 2013 and our losses took place at a time when it's not only possible to talk openly about our babies, but it's easy and feels safe. I can come here any time, day or night, and write about anything I want and know that others will read it. When I feel alone, I can browse hundreds of blogs and websites and connect with others who share my feelings of grief and despair... others who understand.
Recently, I met Gale who shared her amazing blog, Fittsie's Angels, with me. What makes her blog unique (and so interesting) is that even though she just began blogging last year, she has been grieving for the past 37 years. Her losses occurred before I was born, before the Internet, before Blogger, before anyone spoke about babyloss. Gale suffered the loss of two babies during a time when grieving openly and publicly about stillbirth was not acceptable. All of the amazing organizations and ministries that exist today were not there to help her. All of the support and compassion we receive each day from one another did not exist for her. It did not exist for anyone. Hundreds of thousands of women and families were left alone to grieve silently.
They had to find a road to peace
all
by
themselves.
For me, that seems unimaginable. Actually, impossible.
It saddens me deeply, but I am also so grateful to these past generations, for the mistakes that were made are slowly being corrected today, so that we don't have to suffer alone and silently. I know that even today, babyloss is somewhat of a social taboo, but great steps have been taken. And we owe so much to those who walked this path before us. Those whose silent grief was studied and observed and over time was deemed the wrong way. Now, we know that things like holding your stillborn baby, making tangible memories, taking pictures, speaking their names, having a funeral, honoring their memories, going to support groups... are essential to healing.
So many women and so many families were left feeling ashamed or abandoned. They were told by medical professionals to never speak of their babies. That it would be best for them to forget and move on. There are countless babyloss mamas out there who have no pictures of their children. They have no tangible keepsakes. They were not allowed to hold their babies. They lived during a time when doctors truly did believe that photos, keepsakes and bonding were detrimental to healing.
My great-grandmother lost two sons. My grandmother lost her son and daughter. My mother lost her daughter. I lost my son. Generations of woman after woman who lost their children, but I am the first who can say so out loud. I am the first to receive help and comfort outside the walls of my home.
I really find it so inspiring that after so many years, some babyloss mamas are finally speaking up. I think it's incredible that Gale has found the courage to write about her two precious children, after decades of being told that she never could. She is proof that nobody ever gets over the loss of their babies and that speaking about them is a vital part of healing.
Her generation has made way for so many improvements.
I hope that ours can do the same.
I take comfort in finding other babyloss mamas and sharing our stories and experiences with one another. I appreciate that we live in the year 2013 and our losses took place at a time when it's not only possible to talk openly about our babies, but it's easy and feels safe. I can come here any time, day or night, and write about anything I want and know that others will read it. When I feel alone, I can browse hundreds of blogs and websites and connect with others who share my feelings of grief and despair... others who understand.
Recently, I met Gale who shared her amazing blog, Fittsie's Angels, with me. What makes her blog unique (and so interesting) is that even though she just began blogging last year, she has been grieving for the past 37 years. Her losses occurred before I was born, before the Internet, before Blogger, before anyone spoke about babyloss. Gale suffered the loss of two babies during a time when grieving openly and publicly about stillbirth was not acceptable. All of the amazing organizations and ministries that exist today were not there to help her. All of the support and compassion we receive each day from one another did not exist for her. It did not exist for anyone. Hundreds of thousands of women and families were left alone to grieve silently.
They had to find a road to peace
all
by
themselves.
For me, that seems unimaginable. Actually, impossible.
It saddens me deeply, but I am also so grateful to these past generations, for the mistakes that were made are slowly being corrected today, so that we don't have to suffer alone and silently. I know that even today, babyloss is somewhat of a social taboo, but great steps have been taken. And we owe so much to those who walked this path before us. Those whose silent grief was studied and observed and over time was deemed the wrong way. Now, we know that things like holding your stillborn baby, making tangible memories, taking pictures, speaking their names, having a funeral, honoring their memories, going to support groups... are essential to healing.
So many women and so many families were left feeling ashamed or abandoned. They were told by medical professionals to never speak of their babies. That it would be best for them to forget and move on. There are countless babyloss mamas out there who have no pictures of their children. They have no tangible keepsakes. They were not allowed to hold their babies. They lived during a time when doctors truly did believe that photos, keepsakes and bonding were detrimental to healing.
My great-grandmother lost two sons. My grandmother lost her son and daughter. My mother lost her daughter. I lost my son. Generations of woman after woman who lost their children, but I am the first who can say so out loud. I am the first to receive help and comfort outside the walls of my home.
I really find it so inspiring that after so many years, some babyloss mamas are finally speaking up. I think it's incredible that Gale has found the courage to write about her two precious children, after decades of being told that she never could. She is proof that nobody ever gets over the loss of their babies and that speaking about them is a vital part of healing.
Her generation has made way for so many improvements.
I hope that ours can do the same.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Walking With You - Finding Hope and Healing With or Without a Rainbow
For the final WWY post in this segment, we will share our experiences with longing for another baby to fill our empty arms. Some experienced a subsequent pregnancy after loss. Some may be fearful of embarking on that journey again. Some may not be able to have another child, whether due to infertility or other reasons. Some may have found that having another baby, however precious a gift, was not the key to healing the grief. Can you experience hope and healing…even if there is no rainbow after the storm?
I think there is a point in life when everyone comes to realize this fully... when we are forced to surrender our ignorance and accept God's plan in exchange for our childhood fantasies.
I worry that I'll never ever have a living child.
Remember when you were 14 and life was so plan-able?
I do.
I remember when life could be anything I wanted it to be. My entire future could be planned out in a single thought process. I remember daydreaming about growing up. I had it all planned out so perfectly. I was going to go to college, get some fancy degree, graduate, find a great job, have a successful career, buy a 4 bedroom house near the beach, marry my dream man by age 25 or 26 tops, have 3 children - 1 boy and 2 girls...and so on...
So when exactly do we grow up and realize that life does.not.go.according.to.plan.EVER?
There are no guarantees. No cosmic promises. No one who owes us anything.
Plans are just hopes and dreams, wishes and desires. They are not written in the stars. We can plan, just as we can hope, but nothing is ever truly certain. I do.
I remember when life could be anything I wanted it to be. My entire future could be planned out in a single thought process. I remember daydreaming about growing up. I had it all planned out so perfectly. I was going to go to college, get some fancy degree, graduate, find a great job, have a successful career, buy a 4 bedroom house near the beach, marry my dream man by age 25 or 26 tops, have 3 children - 1 boy and 2 girls...and so on...
So when exactly do we grow up and realize that life does.not.go.according.to.plan.EVER?
There are no guarantees. No cosmic promises. No one who owes us anything.
I think there is a point in life when everyone comes to realize this fully... when we are forced to surrender our ignorance and accept God's plan in exchange for our childhood fantasies.
For me, that point was reached the day that Gabriel died. The last of my innocent hope was shattered and my faith was put to the test like never before. I knew it was true just as I knew my child was gone, forever. That God had made His decision and it was final and absolute... a decisive dissolution of a dream. Or at least that's how it felt.
My life has (clearly) not turned out to the be the fairy tale I once envisioned. It's harder, more complicated, and less glamorous than I ever could have predicted as a naive teenager. One by one, God has picked up my plans and thrown them out the window. But He has also been compassionate and merciful and in exchange for tossing aside my perfect plans, He has blessed me unexpectedly with a beautiful life.
I would love to sit here and say that I have an overwhelming faith in God and that I believe wholeheartedly that He will personally ensure my happiness. That I can look back at all of the ways He has blessed and protected me and feel reassured that my future is going to unfold perfectly from this day forward. That my happy ending is just around the corner.
But I can't.
More than anything else in the world, I would love to have another child.
Let me clarify...
I would LOVE to have another child.
But I can't.
More than anything else in the world, I would love to have another child.
Let me clarify...
I would LOVE to have another child.
But, I don't believe that rainbow babies are automatically given to us, despite the extraordinary need for them. I don't believe that God is up in Heaven with a magic wand granting wishes and making dreams come true. I don't believe that every prayer is answered. I don't believe that God's will is for each of us to get what we want the most. I just don't think that's how God works.
Life is not plan-able. Babies are not plan-able. God is not predictable.
Life is not plan-able. Babies are not plan-able. God is not predictable.
Gabriel was our first baby, our first step towards planning a family, which means that we don't have any living children. Though I do believe that babyloss is equally devastating for all parents, there is an additional level of fear when you lose your only child.
I worry that I'll never ever have a living child.
Honestly, it's a little terrifying (okay, a lot terrifying) to think of the possibility of never having another child. Of course I'm also afraid of disappointments, let-downs, another loss, etc... But those fears pale in comparison to the fear of missing out on motherhood.
And I know that there is no baby who can fill the hole that Gabriel's death has left in my heart. But, there is a baby who can fill my heart with renewed joy. There is a baby who can glue some of the broken pieces back together. There is a baby whose tiny body can rest in my arms and who can comfort me with a breath of air.
There is a baby who can dissolve my greatest fear.
It's hard for me to envision a complete life without another baby. I know I could be happy and I would find healing. But it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be the same type of happiness or the same degree of healing.
To be honest, I'm so desperately hopeful, I haven't yet figured out what I'm going to do if a rainbow never appears, if the storm never lets up. Part of me really needs that wave of calm, that bright blue sky that can only appear after a terrible storm. I'm not sure that anything else will ever be enough.
I don't know what the alternative is...
Please pray that I'll never have to find out.
And I know that there is no baby who can fill the hole that Gabriel's death has left in my heart. But, there is a baby who can fill my heart with renewed joy. There is a baby who can glue some of the broken pieces back together. There is a baby whose tiny body can rest in my arms and who can comfort me with a breath of air.
There is a baby who can dissolve my greatest fear.
It's hard for me to envision a complete life without another baby. I know I could be happy and I would find healing. But it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be the same type of happiness or the same degree of healing.
To be honest, I'm so desperately hopeful, I haven't yet figured out what I'm going to do if a rainbow never appears, if the storm never lets up. Part of me really needs that wave of calm, that bright blue sky that can only appear after a terrible storm. I'm not sure that anything else will ever be enough.
I don't know what the alternative is...
Please pray that I'll never have to find out.
P.S. I'd like to just express my gratitude to all of you beautiful mamas who have participated in the Walking With You series, especially Kelly for hosting it. I have really enjoyed reading your posts and comments and learning from each and every one of you. I hope that we can stay in touch and continue to support one another on our journeys. Wishing you peace and keeping you in my prayers <3
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Saturday, February 9, 2013
29 weeks + 2 days
Today marks 29 weeks and 2 days since Gabriel died, which means that he has lived in Heaven 1 day longer than he lived here on earth.
Today the scale has been tipped, the balance forever broken. The other world has had my baby for more time than me, and that variance will only become more and more skewed in their favor. Soon, Heaven will have had him for twice as long, then three times, then an eternity more than me.
I remember when I was pregnant, how time seemed to stretch itself. I thought I would be pregnant forever. The days just couldn't move fast enough.
And now... 29 weeks and 2 days later, time is moving so quickly, I can barely keep up.
It's funny how time works. When the greatest day lies ahead, time crawls. But when the greatest day lies in the past, time bursts into a sprint.
Time is such a beautiful and cruel mystery. Taking us both to and from our happiest moments, but never allowing us to stay there for quite long enough. A constant reminder that everything has a limit.
One day I'm going to look back and I won't be able to measure time in weeks and days, or even months. It will be 3, 4, 5... 29 years - since Gabriel died.
How I wish I could measure time any other way...
Today the scale has been tipped, the balance forever broken. The other world has had my baby for more time than me, and that variance will only become more and more skewed in their favor. Soon, Heaven will have had him for twice as long, then three times, then an eternity more than me.
I remember when I was pregnant, how time seemed to stretch itself. I thought I would be pregnant forever. The days just couldn't move fast enough.
And now... 29 weeks and 2 days later, time is moving so quickly, I can barely keep up.
It's funny how time works. When the greatest day lies ahead, time crawls. But when the greatest day lies in the past, time bursts into a sprint.
Time is such a beautiful and cruel mystery. Taking us both to and from our happiest moments, but never allowing us to stay there for quite long enough. A constant reminder that everything has a limit.
One day I'm going to look back and I won't be able to measure time in weeks and days, or even months. It will be 3, 4, 5... 29 years - since Gabriel died.
How I wish I could measure time any other way...
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Walking With You - Mirror, Mirror, The Comparison Trap
Mothers often fall into the trap of comparing ourselves to one another. This is a trap many women fall into. We compare our families, mothering styles, fashion sense, careers or lack thereof, bodies, etc. Even mothers with babies in heaven compare the way we grieve our children. I know…sad…but we do it, if we’re honest enough to admit it. So, how can we find freedom from this? Sharing is a start…telling the truth…admitting the struggle. I think, then, we will see that we all love our children, regardless of how we choose to remember and honor their lives…whether publicly or quietly…with big parties or simple moments of remembrance. Be real on this week’s post, and let’s free ourselves from the trap of comparing!
One question I've been musing over lately is, why do we compare ourselves to others? Usually, the complex inner workings of human nature can be traced back to an ancient survival technique, an instinct that our ancestors once needed. There used to be a time when only the greedy and manipulative lived, because they had all the food. Let's face it, if you were generous and honest 250,000 years ago, you starved to death.
But where does this uncontrollable urge to want to know where we stand in comparison to others, stem from? Why do we glance over our fence at our neighbor's yard to see if the grass really is greener over there? Why do we even care? Did early man walk out of his cave and think to himself, that cave over there is so much nicer than mine, I want that cave instead? Did the guy in the biggest cave take some pleasure in knowing that his neighbors envied him? And if so, did this help them to survive?
And more importantly, does it still help us today, to survive?
Is it easier to carry our burdens, face our struggles, and cope with a broken heart if we know that others are doing so as well? Are we hoping to learn or gain something by comparing our grief and our hardships to those of others?
Honestly, I don't know the answers or the psychological explanation for why humans compare themselves to one another, but I think we can all agree that this compulsion is somehow inexplicably fueled by human nature. A voice deep inside us that whispers, look what she has and just like that, we're tempted into looking.
All my life, I've been one to compare myself to others. I have needed the assurance that I am at par with my peers, that my success has been growing consistently with that of my friends. I needed to know that I was not slipping behind. I have measured where I should be, by where others are.
But during these past 7 months, I've been forced to age and grow wiser, and I've come to realize that we are all winging this thing called life. We're all in the same crazy maze. Some of us hit more dead ends or take longer to bypass obstacles, but ultimately we're all in the same place. We all look up at night and make wishes. We all secretly harbor dreams that aren't coming true. And sadly, we are all blind, comparing ourselves to the deaf and quietly thinking to ourselves, I want what they have, because all we know is that we hate being blind.
I also look back over these past few months and realize that at some point, I have unintentionally compared myself to everyone in my life...
When I saw my non-babyloss friends lead what appeared to be perfect baby-full lives, I wondered, why me? Why does everyone around me get to keep their children and I don't? I looked at my life, and then I looked at theirs. I drew comparisons and noticed all the differences... all the ways their lives were so-much-better-than-mine. I was envious of what they had - their children. I had tunnel vision, only able to see the one thing they had that I so desperately wanted.
When I met other babyloss mamas online and read their stories, I couldn't help but look through their photos with a stinging sensation in my heart. My greatest regret - that I didn't take enough photos of Gabriel - resurfaced every time I saw photos of other babies. Some families were so lucky to have hundreds of beautiful photos. Every photo, was another beautiful memory I didn't capture, another reminder that someone else had succeeded where I had failed. Once again, I compared others' hads to my had-nots.
Admittedly, I have struggled to escape the comparison trap at times, but it's a battle I'm willing to fight. When I look back, I see that comparing myself to others has interfered with healing and that it's led to so much unnecessary sorrow. I've found that comparison is just a hop-skip-and-a-jump away from jealousy, envy and self-loathing. But mostly, it's kept me from living my life to the fullest. And I don't want to look back at my life at any point and discover that I've wasted my precious time here envying others, instead of chasing my own dreams.
I read somewhere once that if we all stood in a circle and threw our problems into the middle, that we would each reach in and take our own problems back. We all believe that we've received the worst hand of cards, but that's only because we haven't seen everyone else's.
When I was a child, I used to get upset when I thought my parents were unfairly favoring my younger sister. She received more Christmas presents, more allowance money, more anything than me, and I was quick to point out the difference to my parents. I remember one Christmas morning, my sister received something bigger or better than me (no clue what it was), and my dad told me something that I will always remember.
Catherine, your mother and I love you and your sister equally. We may make mistakes, but we will always be fair to both of our children. You should focus more on what we give you, and less on what we give her. If you're happy with your gifts, than it really shouldn't make a difference what your sister received.
I'm not sure if a light switched on in my head at that exact moment or if it took a few years for me to understand just how big of a whining, unappreciative brat I was that day. If it weren't for the fact that I was only 8 or 9 years old, I think I'd be ashamed to even admit that I once complained to my parents that I hadn't received enough. Because the truth is, I had everything I needed.
Now, as an adult, I realize that it's not a parent's job to give their children everything they want to feel happy; it's their job to teach their children how to be happy despite not having everything they want. That day my dad taught me the fundamentals of happiness - be appreciative for what you have and don't worry about what others have.
I imagine that's what God wants most for all of us - to be so happy with our own lives that we stop worrying about everyone else's. To be grateful for the beautiful and unique life He has generously given each of us. To realize that we didn't earn this gift, He gave it to us. He handed us each a box and told us to go fill it with love, laughter, joy and treasures. And if we look around and notice that someone else's box is bigger, prettier, or wrapped in a shiny bow, it doesn't change the truth that He has designed all of our boxes with the same amount of infinite love.
So every now and then, take the time to look at your own box and notice the little intricacies that make it special and all of the contents that make it uniquely yours. Be grateful for the beautiful memories and the joyful experiences that you hold inside it. Realize that the box, just like life, is merely a vessel, and that an empty box, no matter how perfect it may appear on the outside, has no value...
For ultimately, it's what you put inside the box, that makes it so precious.
One question I've been musing over lately is, why do we compare ourselves to others? Usually, the complex inner workings of human nature can be traced back to an ancient survival technique, an instinct that our ancestors once needed. There used to be a time when only the greedy and manipulative lived, because they had all the food. Let's face it, if you were generous and honest 250,000 years ago, you starved to death.
But where does this uncontrollable urge to want to know where we stand in comparison to others, stem from? Why do we glance over our fence at our neighbor's yard to see if the grass really is greener over there? Why do we even care? Did early man walk out of his cave and think to himself, that cave over there is so much nicer than mine, I want that cave instead? Did the guy in the biggest cave take some pleasure in knowing that his neighbors envied him? And if so, did this help them to survive?
And more importantly, does it still help us today, to survive?
Is it easier to carry our burdens, face our struggles, and cope with a broken heart if we know that others are doing so as well? Are we hoping to learn or gain something by comparing our grief and our hardships to those of others?
Honestly, I don't know the answers or the psychological explanation for why humans compare themselves to one another, but I think we can all agree that this compulsion is somehow inexplicably fueled by human nature. A voice deep inside us that whispers, look what she has and just like that, we're tempted into looking.
All my life, I've been one to compare myself to others. I have needed the assurance that I am at par with my peers, that my success has been growing consistently with that of my friends. I needed to know that I was not slipping behind. I have measured where I should be, by where others are.
But during these past 7 months, I've been forced to age and grow wiser, and I've come to realize that we are all winging this thing called life. We're all in the same crazy maze. Some of us hit more dead ends or take longer to bypass obstacles, but ultimately we're all in the same place. We all look up at night and make wishes. We all secretly harbor dreams that aren't coming true. And sadly, we are all blind, comparing ourselves to the deaf and quietly thinking to ourselves, I want what they have, because all we know is that we hate being blind.
I also look back over these past few months and realize that at some point, I have unintentionally compared myself to everyone in my life...
When I saw my non-babyloss friends lead what appeared to be perfect baby-full lives, I wondered, why me? Why does everyone around me get to keep their children and I don't? I looked at my life, and then I looked at theirs. I drew comparisons and noticed all the differences... all the ways their lives were so-much-better-than-mine. I was envious of what they had - their children. I had tunnel vision, only able to see the one thing they had that I so desperately wanted.
When I met other babyloss mamas online and read their stories, I couldn't help but look through their photos with a stinging sensation in my heart. My greatest regret - that I didn't take enough photos of Gabriel - resurfaced every time I saw photos of other babies. Some families were so lucky to have hundreds of beautiful photos. Every photo, was another beautiful memory I didn't capture, another reminder that someone else had succeeded where I had failed. Once again, I compared others' hads to my had-nots.
Admittedly, I have struggled to escape the comparison trap at times, but it's a battle I'm willing to fight. When I look back, I see that comparing myself to others has interfered with healing and that it's led to so much unnecessary sorrow. I've found that comparison is just a hop-skip-and-a-jump away from jealousy, envy and self-loathing. But mostly, it's kept me from living my life to the fullest. And I don't want to look back at my life at any point and discover that I've wasted my precious time here envying others, instead of chasing my own dreams.
I read somewhere once that if we all stood in a circle and threw our problems into the middle, that we would each reach in and take our own problems back. We all believe that we've received the worst hand of cards, but that's only because we haven't seen everyone else's.
When I was a child, I used to get upset when I thought my parents were unfairly favoring my younger sister. She received more Christmas presents, more allowance money, more anything than me, and I was quick to point out the difference to my parents. I remember one Christmas morning, my sister received something bigger or better than me (no clue what it was), and my dad told me something that I will always remember.
Catherine, your mother and I love you and your sister equally. We may make mistakes, but we will always be fair to both of our children. You should focus more on what we give you, and less on what we give her. If you're happy with your gifts, than it really shouldn't make a difference what your sister received.
I'm not sure if a light switched on in my head at that exact moment or if it took a few years for me to understand just how big of a whining, unappreciative brat I was that day. If it weren't for the fact that I was only 8 or 9 years old, I think I'd be ashamed to even admit that I once complained to my parents that I hadn't received enough. Because the truth is, I had everything I needed.
Now, as an adult, I realize that it's not a parent's job to give their children everything they want to feel happy; it's their job to teach their children how to be happy despite not having everything they want. That day my dad taught me the fundamentals of happiness - be appreciative for what you have and don't worry about what others have.
I imagine that's what God wants most for all of us - to be so happy with our own lives that we stop worrying about everyone else's. To be grateful for the beautiful and unique life He has generously given each of us. To realize that we didn't earn this gift, He gave it to us. He handed us each a box and told us to go fill it with love, laughter, joy and treasures. And if we look around and notice that someone else's box is bigger, prettier, or wrapped in a shiny bow, it doesn't change the truth that He has designed all of our boxes with the same amount of infinite love.
So every now and then, take the time to look at your own box and notice the little intricacies that make it special and all of the contents that make it uniquely yours. Be grateful for the beautiful memories and the joyful experiences that you hold inside it. Realize that the box, just like life, is merely a vessel, and that an empty box, no matter how perfect it may appear on the outside, has no value...
For ultimately, it's what you put inside the box, that makes it so precious.
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