After my baby's funeral, we stopped being friends. Print

ARTIST STATEMENT My baby, Aurora Annette, died unexpectedly, three days after she and her identical twin sister were 2 months old. I alchemize my grief and trauma into art, inspired by the Aurora Borealis , and each one dedicated to Aurora Annette. Through my art, I explore and externalize the complexities and layers of grief. My grief is exacerbated by my past trauma. For over 3 years, I struggled with primary infertility due to Stage 3 Endometriosis. I had two invasive surgeries, 10 months apart. After which, I endured a cycle of in-vitro fertilization, leading to a high risk pregnancy & emergency c-section 7 weeks early. Because my babies were born premature, they stayed in the NICU for a month before coming home. On September 24, we found her limp and unresponsive. Her death was ruled as Sudden Unexplained Infant Death. My art has become the primary outlet for my grief and emotions in losing my baby so unexpectedly. Light and dark, although total opposites, coexist in nature. Similarly, joy and grief can coexist after the death of your child. My grief journey and my art practice have become intertwined and inform each other. Painting every single day allows me to explore, express, and externalize the emotions and trauma from losing Aurora, from no longer being a twin mom, and from the ways Endometriosis and infertility have impacted my life. However, it’s in realizing we need both light and dark to live a full and complete life. You need to acknowledge the presence and necessity of the dark, in order to see the stars. The optimal light conditions for seeing the Aurora Borealis are far from bright city lights, in the darkest regions of the Arctic. Just as in order to truly see the colorshift in my artwork, you must endure the darkness of my grief.