TAYLOR ASHLEY BATES
writer • creator • yogi
writer • creator • yogi
Pregnancy is not for the faint of heart. Social media can make it seem like everyone gets pregnant easily and nine months later, voila, healthy baby!
Recently I got together with a dear friend, Sarah Moore, for some 2019 intention setting. We’ve created a little tradition of sharing dreams and setting goals together for many years now, so we came prepared with prompts to help guide us through reflecting on last year and moving into 2019.
Today marks six months since Ellis died. Here are six (of many) things I’ve learned:
Today is Día de los Angelitos, a special day connected with Día de los Muertos to remember children who have died. I’m grateful that such a beautiful tradition was created and I share in it with reverence.
It’s been a week since I left my role at Artpace and I’ve been feeling all kinds of things—nostalgic, mournful, fulfilled, fearful, and excited for a new chapter.
Two people sent me pictures of the same rainbow this evening because it made them think of Ellis. This made my heart swell. I think of him every day.
The sky was on fire tonight in the most beautiful way. I caught a glimpse of it as I pulled out of the parking lot at Artpace after hosting my last public program—I’ve announced that my last day will be October 13.
It’s been storming all week in San Antonio and I can’t help but think of the night we said goodbye to Ellis. That evening brought not only an emotional storm, but an actual thunderstorm as well.
We are currently renovating this 111 year old house. The first time I went inside I knew it had good energy. I’ve since met many people who fondly remember the previous owner…
Today marks three months since Ellis left my body and this earth. It’s hard to make sense of that amount of time—it feels both long and short.
Today was Ellis’ due date. We’re at the beach, a special place for us, and will spread some of his ashes in the ocean tonight. A month ago we took some of his ashes to Enchanted Rock overlooking the Texas Hill Country and read letters to him written by me, Hunter, and our families.
It’s been two months since Ellis died. This is the week he was supposed to be born—this Saturday, July 21st. Instead of the exciting anticipation of labor, his due date now brings pangs of sadness and longing for what might have been.
To Hunter, the father of our son: After Ellis died you wondered aloud if we could be considered parents without having yet parented a child; ours died in my womb before we had the chance.
They say grief is non-linear, though my Type A personality wants to believe it’s possible to graduate from one stage to the next. I experienced the first stage of grief, shock, when the doctor first told me, “I’m sorry, your baby does not have a heartbeat.”
The last three nights the full moon has shone clear and bright in the sky. The first time I walked outside since leaving the hospital was in the security of darkness.
Every month I write an email called Wonder Notes that includes a special note not found anywhere else, along with a handful of links that spark wonder. Sign up to get it: