The Day Everything Changed

When Love and Loss Collide

I never imagined I would be planning a memorial for my own child. Autumn was just 16 months old when our world turned upside down. It was the 4th of December, and I was finishing a shift in Radiology when Bubba called me. His voice is a sound I’ll never forget. Autumn wasn’t breathing.

We lived only two blocks from the hospital, and he brought her straight to me. I carried her into our trauma room, my mind split between mother and medical professional, but none of it made sense. She looked like she was simply sleeping. My body panicked so deeply that I went into labor with our second child. Everything felt impossible—holding her in my arms while knowing another little one was still growing inside me.

There was no warning, no reason. Just the silence of disbelief. She had been pure joy, and suddenly she was gone. Our whole world shifted in a single moment. We were still parents, but now to both love and loss.

Learning to Move Forward

Six weeks later, I gave birth to Autumn’s sibling. It was a reminder that life and loss can collide in ways that take your breath away. We welcomed a new life even as we carried the ache of the one we lost.

That first Christmas without her was one of the hardest seasons of my life. Everywhere I looked were reminders of family, joy, and togetherness, but our table had an empty chair. The lights and the carols couldn’t cover the silence where her laughter should have been. Holidays are supposed to be magical, and instead we were learning how to survive them without her.

What gave us strength was remembering her joy. Autumn’s smile could light up a room, her laughter filled every corner of our home. Even in our grief, we knew her story couldn’t end there. We had to carry her forward.

Why Memories Matter

Photos became lifelines. They were proof that she was here, that her life was real and radiant.

In the years since that first Christmas without her, our family has grown to four more children—Autumn’s siblings who bring both joy and chaos to our home. They all know who she is and recognize her photos. We celebrate her birthday as a family. And only recently did I find the space to begin pressing magnets—to take this grief and love and create something that could be shared.

What started as a way to keep Autumn close has become something bigger: a way to help others hold on to their most important memories.

Autumn’s Legacy Lives On

Out of our loss came the Hope Scholarship, sponsored first by the Standin’ On The Corner Foundation. Bubba and I always wanted it to be bigger. Now, a portion of every magnet order goes toward supporting local high school students who are asked to reflect on their own journeys—times of struggle, times of resilience—and share how they chose to move forward in a positive light.

It’s more than just a scholarship. It’s a ripple effect. Autumn’s story doesn’t end with us; it continues through the courage and growth of young people stepping into their futures. Each order carries her name forward, and in that way, her light keeps spreading.

Carrying Hope in Everyday Life

Today, our life is full of beautiful chaos with our five kids—one in heaven and four here with us. The house is loud, the days are long, and now the presses are here. Tiny hands often “help” us press, pack boxes, and carry finished magnets to the table.

It seems like we’ve been pressing magnets for years, but in reality, this journey is still so new. I will always remember the first magnet I pressed—it was of Autumn. Our little Autumn Hope, forever in our hearts.

For so long, I was pregnant, breastfeeding, or caring for newborns. My life was full of being “Mama” and “Wife,” roles that I treasure with all my heart. But I also needed something that was mine—something that reminded me I am still me. Pressing magnets became that space. A way to honor Autumn, to create something lasting, and to hold on to both my family and myself.

Why We Share This Story

Grief has no roadmap. It’s messy and heavy and it doesn’t disappear. You don’t just “move on.” It comes in waves, and sometimes you feel like you’re drowning.  We keep moving forward. Our grief is a part of our story.

If you’ve lost someone you love, you know that ache. You also know the comfort of holding onto the pieces that remain—photos, keepsakes, memories that remind you that love never really leaves.

That’s why Autumn’s Magnet Press exists. To give families something tangible, something lasting, something that stays close even when life changes unexpectedly. You’re never ready for it, but we can move forward with hope.

🌟 Love doesn’t fade - It finds new ways to stay.

What memory do you want to hold onto?