Christmastime

Oh, the dark and the light
The lights on the tree, the softness.
The memories of cookies on a plate and Nat King Cole singing from our record player. Now he sings from the ipod.
Oh, the darkness inside me.
Darkness can be warm and soft, the darkness that makes the Christmas tree beautiful, that allows it to be so special. The darkness of my sad heart, the part that just misses Otto. I don't think about it being Christmas and how he should be here, it is a matter of my body, my belly, my lungs, I feel it wash over, I feel his absence, I feel my love for him, I feel the hole. I just want to cry.

Maybe because Christmas is about children, sweet little kid memories with sisters, it's about a mama and baby, the child coming to the world. This may sound strange, but all the songs about baby Jesus seem like they're about Otto. Especially the first Christmas after he left. To me he was this glowing, perfect, loving soul. He was a prince. He was everything. He brought so much to us. And every day now I cry again, I grieve a little more.

And then there is the light. The light of our love for him, our strong, bright love, our gratefulness for his making us parents, gratefulness to have ever felt that love. There is the joy of Luna, of her laugh, her amazing habits. Like stirring a fake pot of soup and giving us sips of it. Of putting little pieces of paper in pockets that she makes in her shirt, or my shirt, of crawling as fast as she can to her Daddy's office door and banging on it, watching her put pieces of bread in her mouth, of jumping on her knees naked in our bed, her glee, her bigness. I have so much joy every day in her. Radiating joy.

I am so grateful for all of this love. From all of our family.

Life, the structures of it, can fall apart so fast. There is so little control. But the simplest being together, the talks around a kitchen table, preparing food, these are such beautiful things to love as we have them.

It is nice to be at peace with both of these things, my sadness and my joy. Christmas holds them both. We sing about the cheer and merriment, and more modern songs about the difficult times, missing home, missing a love. Really, we all have SOMEONE we miss at Christmas.

I am enjoying it this year, unwrapping our ornaments; those from childhood, from 11 years of marriage, 3 years of Otto's ormaments, Luna's 2nd year, these gifts that mark togetherness, love, tradition, sweetness. I am enjoying the bells, the cookies, the love. And I usually don't want to go to bed at night because of the heaviness of pain.

This is Christmas! All of it is beautiful. Not easy, but beautiful.

Dia de Los Muertos

Today is the Day of the Dead in Mexico, Dia de Los Muertos. People celebrate children who have died today.

They put marigolds, favorite foods, candles, on altars and go put flowers on graves and clean them up. It's a day in many traditions where people feel the veil between worlds growing thinner, where those who have gone on draw closer to our realm. The Fall is seen as such a time.

And I like this. It's supposed to be happy, not sad. Celebrating our love for our families and friends. But for children, I don't see how there is not some sadness included.

I wrote about this in my breath email today and just started crying as I typed. My son, my son it is still so hard to believe. Writing to people about him brings the tears. I celebrate him through tears. I wanted to put marigolds on his grave but it is too cold for the nurseries to sell them this time of year. Next year I'll grow them myself. So I bought some red mums and a nice bright green pot to plant them in and brought a ceramic hummingbird that's been in the family a long time, and we drove down to the cemetery in Sebastopol. Luna was tired and she cried the whole way there.

Sun was going down on such a fiery, clear autumn day with warm blue skies. We got out of the car and walked toward the Garden of Angels where the children are buried. A family was there at their baby's grave, putting flowers down, 2 little boys running around.

We put Otto's flower pot and hummingbird down on his grave. We spread the petals from his rose bush at our house. We put our hands down on it and talked to him. Luna sat down too, and played with pine needles. We miss you, baby, we love you. I imagine his ashes down there, under the earth, the earth holding them. A place for us to convene, to do this, though I know he is always with me, I can always talk to him. It is beautiful to drive out to the country, through apple orchards and into sweet smells and hills, and be with him and his memory, his meaning.

Another family came to put flowers down for their child. I heard the mama's tender voice as she talked to her baby, soft, high tones, sad. They bent down and cleared his stone, and little boys ran around.

Other families do this too. Other families have big holes in them. We are there together, putting flowers down. Holes filled with love, but love leaves the holes there. They make us interesting, they make us who we are, we grow around them, we are strong, we remember.

And how I love Luna. My love for her makes the whole world seem better. That love, such love, began in full when they put Otto on my chest for the first time, when I held my warm, soft child for the first time, knowing he would die, but Oh, he was with me then, he was MINE, my sweet, soft darling boy, and those moments will always be strong with me, those NOWS of then. I have never been the same. And when Luna came, that love just carried on with her, it got to live longer in my arms with her, and it grows and grows. For both of them. That is the part we celebrate.

So, my sweet boy, let me keep being your mama. And put flowers down for you on special days. Let your dad keep being your papa. It is so important to us. We hold you so close. We love you so much. We are so glad you are our boy.

Fall and Love

It's been a while since I wrote. Crawling girl makes it hard to type now, she can get anywhere fast and I can't look away! And I'm sleeping during her naps too, so bye bye free time.

But there has been a wonderful glow from within lately. Happiness. Contentment.

I sink into the outside in the Fall. The rain. The leaves. The sounds. Everything is getting more saturated with color and feeling and smell. It's been over two years since Otto passed over, and 2 years seems to be a marking of a change in grief work, the walk, the experience. I'm less heavy. I'm more in my heart.

I cry often, I feel his love and loss, and in many ways I feel more a part of the universe. I'd say more alive, but it's even more than that - like even when I die, I'll still be a part of it. I feel at home. Part of a big, cozy, beautiful family that extends out all around.

I look up at the stars and am glad that I will be a part of them still after I die. I want to know more about the cycles of the moon. I want to know about making bread and I enjoy taking the seeds out of the pumpkin before I bake it. I feel love for dirt and trees and sky. For my husband and my child. Otto brought that deep love to the surface, a shattering surfacing. A rearranging. Love that makes you know that it is what we are here for.

I am still flabbergasted that Otto came and left. There is a part of his story that I go through every day. A different part every day, a little piece. A room in the hospital, the lactation nurse, the fridge where I stored the milk with his name on it. I found a little bottle from UCSF yesterday, his name still on the label. I will keep it. It is a precious thing.

I have been here for his conception and growing in belly, and his birth, and his death. I know death a little more. I know the permanence of it, and yet the fluidity of it. The feeling like it is not an ending even though it is so complete and sudden. I am a little less afraid of it. And more grateful that I have this day. A day I get to be with a man I love and a child I get to care for. Who gives me smiles of total joy when dad brings her in from her nap. I have not know such complete love in a face. She melts me.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing things right as a mom, feeding her the right things, getting sleep right, yada yada, but I know that I do love her enough. And that is basically the key. Everything else works itself out.

When I can really accept that this love is the most important thing in life, it's easier to let things go like the dishes being undone, an email I forgot to send, a form I forgot to fill out. Instead of going into the vortex of everything I do wrong right away, it's easier to slip that off and just say, Oh well, and look, I'm alive. I'm alive. I don't know how long I get, but right now is a pretty good moment. Pretty great when you think about it.

Rain is falling. The Giants won and will go to the world series! My baby is sleeping. The moon is almost full. The earth is soaking in long awaited water. Who am I to judge my life and if I've done it well, if I've done it right? I am here. I am here and breathing, my heart is beating, I live in a house of love and undone dishes and piles of laundry.

On Your Anniversary

I made a slideshow of the time we had with you.
A beautiful pregnancy,
A strong birth,
And so much love while you were in our arms.
It was a sacred time,
And deserves to be remembered as beautiful.
We love you so.
We are learning what love means
More
All the time.
I love you, my little boy.

Otto from Jessica Malmberg on Vimeo.

Sometimes
I will have this moment.
When it all comes rushing down on me.
And I put my head in my hands and think
I can't believe this is my life.
MY life.
I can't believe my boy is gone and I will never hold him again in this life. My beautiful, sweet, perfect boy, mine.
My son.
My first.
So much dearness and love. Soft earlobes and dark hair and the tilt to his head on my chest that said mama, you are my mama.

And I feel so angry I want to scream and break something.
But what is there to break? How can I carry on like that in the house with a little girl? A little girl I want to love and protect.

I try to imagine where I could go and what I could break.
I could throw rocks, or logs, but they don't really break.
I want to destroy something. Like glass.
In this moments it's like I'll wake up and think, "What are you doing, living your life like everything is fine, being happy, do you REALIZE what has happened?"

And I deserve happiness, and I deserve good moments and life does keep going. But I'm just telling you, there are these times when I can see and feel very clearly
that the most precious thing
that had ever come into my life
the baby I most wanted to preserve, to take care of and love
had to die.
And I helped him die, with love and tears and sweetness
And then
He was gone.

And then the house was empty
And it was the truest, most sickening emptiness
That ever was.




And that anniversary was today. The anniversary of his passing, of our family coming in around Him to love him and say goodbye, to hold us up,
And then they left to let us rest.
We laid down in the bedroom, listening to mariachi music from the neighbor's,
And I woke up
And walked to the place in the living room where you were born
And wailed.
Nothing nothing
Could make this better, could give him back to me, could take this from me.
Not drinking, not movies, not chocolate, not love.
Only walking into the deep pain,
One small step, another small step,
looking at the light change,
and crying and crying.

I had other precious things too. My husband who walked these small steps with me, who cried lakes of salty tears, whose heart was broken, who was willing to go into this darkness too so that we could come out together. Not knowing, not seeing, how it would ever change, but he laid next to me and held my hand and we went one step at a time. We laughed one laugh at a time. We ate one meal at a time. Opened one piece of mail, wrote one check, answered one phone call, made eye contact when we both knew we were hurting at a friend's dinner party and wanted to go home and light his candle. At some point we surfaced. And sometimes we need to go back down again, deep down, to the weeping place. And be there for a while. We miss him so much. I have someone who misses Otto just as much as I do. It was our love that made him in the first place. Just love. And love he remains. Up in the stars, down in my heart. All through the house.

Happy Birthday Darling

Happy 2nd birthday my Otto, our Otto, our baby boy. I had things to say and I can't remember them now. There is just a welling up feeling in my chest, and a tiredness and not-sureness of how to do this.

We had a beautiful day at the beach to celebrate you. A day of sun, a rarity this summer, especially for the beach. At Nana's house we gathered beautiful rose petals of all colors in a bag and we set them in the foamy waves, and watched them gather on the beach in wave shaped s-curves and swirl around in the water. Yellow and red and purple and pink, so brilliant together.

Luna loved playing in the sand, and looked at seagulls and the waves.

The waves, the pounding, rumbling, singing, vibration of so much power and so much force and blue beauty, it can handle all the emotions we carry for you. And once we were there we were free to enjoy your birthday. The day you made us parents, the day we were honored to call you ours and perfect. Oh, how blissful to know that full of a love.

When we took you to Memorial Emergency Room, and saw your name we had just uttered for the first time to the world in print on your bed, we smiled to each other and pointed at it - look! his name! Officially! We hadn't told anyone about Otto Charles and here you were, and your name carried a magic. How innocent, holding out so much hope, so awed about your existence.

I found your hospital wrist band with your name recently. So tiny. I held it for a while, this was around your wrist. How can you be so near and so far?

Darling, on your second birthday, I want you to know how much we love you, how much of our family you are, how much you have given us, how much is gone with you. That we nurture your place, we keep it fresh, we are open to its changes, it is alive.

Thank you for the honor of being your mama, of singing to you when you were here, I sang from the easiest, tenderest place of my heart. I sang to you today, one hand on your grave. I felt the hum of you there, it was easy to sing. I find you with my hand on the ground, on a tree, when I am easy in my heart, when I am easy on myself. But oh, I wish I didn't have to wait till the end of my life to hold you again. oh, this part hurts.

Please, take my kisses tonight. Feel the love of your family. Let the orange balloon that Nona brought you make you giggle and the cupcakes with blackberry frosting make you smile with delight. Let your little sister make you laugh when she squeezes Poppi's nose and makes him howl. Feel our love. You have given us so much. You have melted us.

You are our child and we hold you, wrapped up and warm, in the arms of our hearts. Happy Birthday, my sweet boy. And many more. Blow out the candles!

Miracle

I still find it so amazing that our children are a combination of both of us, both parents, mingling and mixing in the form of a new person, with a new personality and being and outlook. On the way home from the show last night I was looking at Luna, asleep, and amazed that she is my daughter, she came from my body, and is Ryan and I together.

I can't help but still think that it is a miracle. So what if it happens all the time, it happened with all of us, it is still a wonder.

I'm remembering our time with Otto in the hospital, the wonder he was to us. How much love we felt looking at him, head wrapped up in gauze, under which were tiny needles monitoring his brain waves, a line into a hand, into an arm, a catheter, bruises on his ankles from blood being drawn, but we saw HIM. He was just glowing with love and life for me. Being a first time mom probably made it easier because I had nothing to compare the experience to, I could be open to this one as mine and this baby as himself. He was a miracle.

His little nose, his skin. I wish I had touched him more in there. I wish I had held his hands in my whole hands for longer, held his feet. They were cooling him and I was afraid to mess up the process, the hospital had him, I wish I had been more of a bitch about it, and taken more ownership, known that he would have loved more touch. But we were there, and singing and talking to him, touching him lightly.

And once the MRI was over and we knew there was no longer any hope, we could hold him and hold him all we wanted. No more needles, no more blood work no more noodling and poking and prodding and discussing of MY son. He's mine, damn it, stop bothering him, he's mine now and I will hold him and sing to him and we will make all of the decisions now, and we will take him home so we won't have to hear any more beeps and light nurses conversations as their lives go on, no, we will take him home to the sun and trees and the whir of the fan and only people who adore him surrounding him. And now I will be his mama, his full mama, and my heart will open bigger than ever before and he will fill it up and I will feel his skin and his heart and he will hear my heart again and we will find so much healing. He will know our love.

He is my miracle, such an amazing combination of all the people who love him so much. Such a tender and sweet soft soul, velvet and moss but golden like the orange flowers outside at this time of year, his time of year. Oh my baby Otto. I miss you so much. I miss my sweet son.

He was not just a baby, he was his own person that we uniquely love. I like the idea of death being just another room, next door, that he is in, or another world, parallel to ours, that is beautiful and full of wonder and mystery and love, that I can send him love and he feels it and loves it. That he can send us love too.

I wish I could have known you more and longer and deeper in this world. Seen you on this coming Sunday, your 2nd birthday. Two. The terrible twos. The terribly wonderful twos, my sweet boy. I am so proud of you.

Otto and I about 2 years ago

We are happy here.
In my belly.
Swimming
And dancing.
You are well. And I am well.
A mama holding her baby inside.
We are in harmony and happy.

I've loved being your mama.
I loved being pregnant with you.
Let's remember the joy of it.
Let's remember how much we loved you, the thought of you, the dream of you, the kicks of you, the food we shared, the sleep, the feelings. Our first child, you made us parents. You made us know that love that can't be described, of wanting to care for and give to and endlessly give love to.

And we will never stop.

Otto's month

My sweet girl fell asleep in my arms this evening as we sat under the maple tree in the backyard. A cool summer evening on the blanket on our tiny lawn, we listened to the leaves in the breeze and the hummingbird chirp, the golden sun in pockets between branches. So so sweet. I picked her up and put her to bed for a nap.

We sat under this tree with baby Otto, talking to him in the hot August afternoon, the sun in pockets, I blocked his eyes from its brightness. He got to feel the warm summer air on his skin, the easiness of this time of year. My mom was in the kitchen doing dishes. She fixed us quesadillas to eat while we were out there. She seemed happy. She was able to let it be a happy afternoon, like any family would have. Out on the lawn with our baby. Those days are so monumentous to me. I can't believe I had to let you take a final breath.

And now it's August again. And your birthday is coming close. I can feel it in my body, in my heart. The welling up of love and despair mixed together. I am so proud of you, such a beautiful boy, my son.

August is already about letting go, letting go of summer, the freest and most fun time of the year. August is the end of it, the first hint of things fading. This year has been so cool that my plants are still green and thriving. But we brought you home on such a hot week in 2008 that things were wilting and drying, and it squeezed my heart even more, to see that it seemed the whole world was dying too. Let go of everything. Everything is lost.

We have survived and managed to let things grow again. Plant things, plant seeds, take risks, have another beautiful child. But always, always, there will be August and your birthday and your heaven day. We live in cycles and August comes right around again. I'm glad. I don't want to avoid the grief and the pain, I need them, they are part of us, us as a family. I love to say your name and to read it, I love when people talk about you and know you. I love this month and I fear it but I know how to keep walking, one step, another step, another step.

Just don't be afraid of my crying, my friends. Don't worry if you say something that makes me cry. I need it. I need the sadness of this month. I need the great and terrible memories. Let me talk about it. And tell you the things I remember. Let me fall apart. Because always I get put back together with more softness, more moss and cracks full of shadow that let light in, more understanding.

I miss you, my little boy. I so wish that you were still here, that you didn't die, that i could see you jumping and waving sticks and talking. Your leaving gave me my Luna, my sweetest girl. I love you both so much.

Luna Movin' All About

She is so amazing. So funny, full of life. She can now pick up a wooden stick and hit the woodblock and the tambourine, and loves doing it! She can hold herself up on all fours (knees and hands) and laugh and scream and roll around. She amazes us. It amazes me how much love we can have, how much our hearts can swell.

It's summer and the summer makes me miss my little boy so much too. It hit me the other day, seeing some sweet boys, that I am a mom of a BOY, and I wish so much to see how he would have banged into things and made trucks move with roaring sounds and jumped in the mud, or not, what would he have done? Different things will strike me about him, here and gone, all the rest of my life I think. And today I especially ache for him. And I especially melt with love for my little girl, as she falls asleep in my arms.

When making this video of her, I didn't want to stop it, didn't want to let it end. I think a part of me thought, if she goes, if she leaves us, we'll just want to keep watching, every second precious, like the videos of Otto. I realized this and wanted to comfort that part of myself, have compassion for her, for the sadness of knowing what it's like to say goodbye to a child, to that deepest part of your love. I am so glad she is here, now, here now. Now is all there is, and she is here and we love her so much, love each other so much, in our nest of a bed in the cool summer night. We have everything.

Welcome

Welcome little babe. Born to my dearest friend Julianne. Little Ryan at 6:16pm yesterday. Welcome new life, new love, new heart.
We are so glad you are here.

Such a beautiful day with your sister today. She saw the ocean for the first time. She gives us so much love, so much joy, it's so easy to love her.

We miss you.

There is a little boy down the street born only 3 weeks after you. We see him and know what you would be doing now. He ran into our driveway with his mom today, with a big stick, so thrilled with this big stick, jumping and running, and your Dad and I were just thrown into heartache. I don't know if his mom knows our story, but she says hi to us and to Luna, and we watch her little boy with smiles and hidden tears.

I wish I knew what this was all about.

I don't understand life.

I love my baby Luna, I love you, I wish you were still here. I'm so glad there are toys all over our house and a high chair at the table and diapers in the drier. I am so grateful for our blessings. And my heart aches too.

My friend had a baby last night here at Kaiser. A brand new little being, so sweet, so full of spirit, I still feel glowing from holding him.

And it makes me long for Otto. It's their first baby, a boy, and seeing them holding him and taking him in, and realizing, they get to keep him, they get to keep getting to know him. And I want that still, with Otto, I want to go back and make it all right, make it all come out the way it was supposed to. I miss you, my little boy. I look at all your pictures, your sweet fat belly, your arms and legs, your cheeks and I want to kiss them. I want to kiss them over and over like I get to do with baby Luna.

She smells so good, and I am so amazed at all the love I get back from her, the sweet looks up, the smiles, the wet kisses on my cheeks, the jokes. It makes me so happy and it makes me know all the more what I've missed with you, what I am missing. It is odd to think you were only here, outside the belly for a week. Our relationship to you seems timeless, ongoing, here and now. You are not something that happened and that we got over, you are alive now, to us.

I ache for those moments of laying in bed, with my first baby, examining him, in wonder of him, all being well. I still can't believe it. I still can't believe that he came and went, I still have a part of me that thinks I can DO something about it, a deep, unconscious little person that still wants to act to save him. It goes against every cell in a mama's body to let her baby die, to let him go, to let him fade and go on without you. When you love this being in a way you've never loved before. And I still love him that way, but without him here to smile back.

I Am the Mother of Two Children

Baby Otto

Baby Luna


I am the Mother of two children.
My son and my daughter.
My golden boy and my strawberry girl.
I love the day, mother's day,
When I get to write both their names
When both their names appear on cards
When I can write:
Love, Ryan, Jess, Otto and Luna
Because that is always how I feel.
Because I carried and gave birth
to a big bouncing beautiful boy
who had an accident
and had to leave so early...
and his name is always missing where I want to put it
But I don't want to seem maudlin or weird
Writing the name of my dead little boy on every card.
But I can do it today, because no one can say today,
That he isn't with me.
This is my second mother's day without him.
Last year on this day, my mama and I went to pick a rosebush for him.
We searched and searched for the right colors.
And chose a rose called Josef's Coat, with brilliant sunny colors
With creamy oranges and bright pinks, yellows and creams,
each finding different expression on each flower,
the petals works of watercolors themselves,
magenta bleeding into sunrise,
a lift for the spirit to just look at it.
Why does a boy with such a sad story
Inspire such wonderful colors?
I don't know! But we loved him so much!
And I love him now, just as much as my Luna,
My funny, sweet, velvety voiced, happy eyed girl,
The baby I get to hold, whose weight I get to feel,
Whose diaper I get to change, whose hair I get to wash,
Whose feet I get to kiss and bite softly,
Little sister. Little sister gets enough love for the both of them,
And she send's Otto's portion
Straight up to him, and he's somewhere, everywhere,
Soaking it up and glowing and with happy eyes.
It is easier for me to send him love lately,
Luna's realness, her weight, makes him real again,
Makes me know more what I lost,
Makes me miss him more, but love him more too.
Makes me know how much he loved me here,
And loves me now.
I am the mama of two children,
one here and one gone,
a boy and a girl,
one in the ground and sky, one in my arms,
My heart aches with this love
The love of light and shadow,
and knowing that I can't control which one I will walk in,
Any day, any hour, we are subject to all things,
And love covers them all, the disappointments, the surprises,
The loss, the gain, in sickness and in health,
for rich or for poor,
Love is love is love is love
and it's really all we live for.
So, my two children,
It is such an honor to be your mama.
I love you both so much.
You are so perfect and I am so lucky.
I love this day, when I can write both your names
And call you my own,
And be in the wonder
Of being a mama
Of two beautiful children.

luna 5 months

Things I want to remember:

Her hands holding my fingers as she falls asleep nursing
The smell on the top of her head, sweet and a little sweaty
The puffy cool cheeks as I kiss them
When she puts her hands slowly on my face
Her experimental screams
her words like "bwa" and "mmmmmmommmmommmomm"
Her giggles at things we have no idea about
Her peals of laughter when we kiss her belly
her little feet on my legs as we sleep, warm and cozy
Comforting her when we FINALLY get home and I can pull her out of the carseat with big tears on her cheeks, and she stops crying and sighs
Her wonder at everything in the world
Her beautiful eyes that seem too liquid to be of this plane
Dancing and singing for her as I make lunch to make her smile
So much
so many things
make my heart so full

Luna Love 4 months

Sweet Luna girl, 4 months now! 15 pounds, 9 ounces, and 25 inches long. She grew 4 inches last 2 months! She's amazingly wonderful. Smiles and sings, she's taken with the world. Laughing at Bo, and at Daddy. We're so so proud of her!

The light at the very end of the day,
Blue wateriness coming through the windows,
I hold my child in my arms,
Wrapped in a blanket,
Sleepy head in the crook of my arm
I bounce on the red yoga ball
As I do every time
She goes down for a nap.
On the edge of dreams,
She waits with me
As it takes her over.
Sometimes I start out tired,
A little complainy,
And then realize what I am holding,
What I am doing:
Holding my own babe
As she drifts.
She trusts me;
I love her.
Holding her in my arms
I say Thank You.
Thank you for this gift,
This gift of all I wanted
This precious moment
Of bouncing
Of almost sleep
Of my baby.
Thank you for hearing me
And giving her to me
Thank you that I get to do this.
And I realize
I've been bouncing
Long after she has fallen asleep,
It's just you and me, kid.
Do you mind
If I keep you here a moment longer
before I lay you in your bed,
So content to rest?

I can't believe she's 10 weeks

I can't believe she's already twice as big as she was when born. Almost.

In the morning we get up and she sits in her bouncy chair and we just make each other laugh for about an hour. It's part of my schedule now, and every little sound she makes, every joyful smirk, is like cleaning out some soot from my heart. It's so wonderful to love her.

I love Otto when I love her. When I see the beautiful blue veins under the skin of her forehead, I think of him and the wonderous veins I followed with my fingers, trying to memorize them. I tell him I love him too.

There is a beautiful painting in an article I read in Mothering Magazine, and a memorable day when I bought it because I decided to let myself be excited about wanting to be a mom, let myself prepare and plan, and it felt so freeing and satisfying. It was January 2007.

She was a first time mama and noticed her baby stopped moving after the water broke. They did an ultrasound at the hospital and found that the baby's heart had stopped beating, and she had died. She was in labor and gave birth to her daughter, knowing it was the hardest thing she'd ever have to do, push out a baby who had already gone. She and her husband spent the day holding this baby, talking to her, singing to her, and then had to let her go. I cried and cried reading this article.

It seems strange now that it was part of my decision to open my heart to really being a mom, this article. She had gone on to have 2 more children by the time it was published, and I read it over and over again after Otto left.

The painting that opened the article is of a mama nursing a baby in one arm, and in the other arm, under the ground, she holds another baby, and a tear falls down for that one, a drop of milk falls for the baby who is alive. She holds them both at once, and doesn't let them go, and it means so much to me that someone painted this, someone understood this, that the mothering keeps going for this baby that has gone to heaven.

I've been feeling this lately, that I hold both babies, that I love both of them so much. Luna brings up my love for both of them, and her sweet body makes Otto real again, and makes me love him and miss him so so much.

At night I need to go outside to the tree by our bedroom window and talk to him, talk to the moon, feel the earth, my connection to a deeper place, a place to give my grief to. My friend Jula reminded me of my need to do this, and it is so necessary, so helpful.

And in the morning, I will get a straight hour of laughter and silliness. I am so excited of the months and years to come of this love. And I will always miss doing these very things with Otto, taking care of him, seeing who he would be. I hope and hope and hope that in some way and realm, I will get to talk to him and hold him and see him again. Maybe that includes now.

baby Otto

Baby Luna

The weeks after you died I would wake up so lonely. A scared, homesick kind of lonely, clutching my belly, in a panic, like I'd misplaced you, where did you go?

After being in my belly so big, taking up so much of me, of my body and my heart and mind, it was a shock to have you gone from there, and gone from the room, gone from the house, from everywhere.

Wake up crying and confused, so lonely.

And now I get to lay on the bed on a sunny winter afternoon with my baby girl at my belly. Baby gone from my belly but just outside of it, warming me, right where she should be, both of us needing the other, doing our job for the other. Some call the first 3 months of the baby's life the 4th trimester, and it feels that way. We are still so connected after those long months of love through the cord, sharing heartbeats and breaths, my body still needs to feel her close, needs to mother her.

When we decided to be open to conceiving again I was surprised by a deep new sadness that came, of letting go of my baby Otto as my one and only, of that pure love, giving that to another baby, it was hard for my heart. We waited a little longer to honor those tears, to keep him as my child a little longer, to feel the fullness of only him.

But my body yearned for this mothering, for this 4th trimester and then years and years of care and love. And so came Luna, our rising moon, to carry on the love born with Otto and yet shaped just for her, just for her dear life, her coming.

And I still wish I could do that for my sweet Otto, and part of me still wants him to come back in some bending of the rules of nature. But I have now such a healing little bundle at my belly, lying and sleeping and making the best baby sounds. How a body can conceive so quickly after one pregnancy, after a deep tearing sadness, is to complete the love it was made for. I am an animal, a mama, who needs to mother, and my womb is so happy now, as it goes back down to it's smaller shape, its job done, and now sending love to this baby from the inside out, a job just as important as growing the baby.

She sends it to Otto too, up there in the stars, the Venus I still say hello to as day shifts to night.

In Good Hope

When Josef's (my stepdad) sister and husband came to visit from Switzerland this summer they told us that a phrase there for expecting a child is translated as "in good hope."

I thought this was perfect. Because there are no guarantees, but you're staying in the goodness of hope, knowing the fragility of this little one's life, of life in general.

I can't believe that now she's here! It kept hitting me last night, looking down at her sleeping on my lap after nursing. This is my daughter! This baby is mine! I get to be her mommy, the one who feeds her, the mommy who will comfort her, sing to her, raise her. What an honor.

It was hitting me last night also, how much I love Otto, how I don't know how to place him in our family. And then, the feeling that it hasn't been very long, and I will always be learning this.

Luna and I had our first outing to the grocery store alone together the other day. I had her in a sling, and people all smiled at us, and seemed delighted to see this baby. Especially older men were smiling, and 3 of them have said, "Oh, to be that baby." To have the nurturing and closeness and rest.

One woman asked me if Luna was my first. This question is not as hard to answer now that Luna is here and I don't have to worry if the same thing will happen as it did with Otto. But it's still sad to tell people no, she has an older brother who passed away a week after he was born. This woman looked sad, and said she was sorry. She said, "the same thing happened to my grandmother. She tells me that she still cries about it sometimes."

This made me warm inside. To know that this woman, of a generation where hardship was more common, where babies died more often, still holds this little one close, still mourns this baby.

I'm thinking about if I should change the name of my blog to include Luna. My Beautiful Little Boy and Girl, or Children. It seems like I should. And part of me thinks maybe I should keep this one just for him, since it's hard to keep places that are just his. But then I think, were he to have lived he would be sharing the family space with his brothers or sisters. Maybe it's more of an honor to him to leave this blog for the thoughts of all my children equally.

I'm afraid sometimes I will forget him. Luna is so full and warm and present, how will he compete with that in my heart? I still have hope that in some place and dimension I will hold him again, and know him fully. My oldest child, my son.

And till then, I will be finding my way, one step at a time, paartly through this blog. And now, I have thissweet warm milky baby to hold and love with all my heart.

My Little Girl

Luna Rowan Malmberg was born under a beautiful crescent moon on November 18th, 2009.

That morning Ryan and I walked through our neighborhood park, a winding sidewalk through grass and big oak trees, overlooking the East Santa Rosa hills. It was a fall day of blue skies, white clouds, brilliant yellow and reds and oranges on trees. I felt good contractions, and hoped that it would be the day.

I had a Non-stress test scheduled that day, and spent the afternoon waiting to go to it, on the couch, feeling pressure waves in my abdomen, calm, not painful, but a little dizzy with the hormones and feeling hopeful. My mom volunteered to drive me there since we didn't know if the contractions would keep coming, deepen or fade away as they had been for the past weeks.

When I got in her car the weather had completely changed, it was a low and full mist, enveloping the neighborhood in a pure white, low feeling. It felt beautiful. I thought, "baby if you're coming, this is such a wonderful day to be born, the skies are coming down to you."

Mom and I arrived at the hospital for the test, listening to her heartbeat, looking at the amniotic fluid. We scheduled these tests since 32 weeks to be extra careful with this little one. Meanwhile, the contractions are getting longer and stronger, showing up on the monitor. The nurse comes in, and says, if we want, we can stay and have the baby - her waters are a little low, I'm 4 cm dilated, let's go for it! It is now! I think, this is the room I will have my baby in.

I call Ryan and send him into a tizzy, getting our things together, he'll have to drive to hospital by himself! On his way over the skies fully open up and it's pouring down rain, shifting once again, bringing our baby in. This baby comes in with water, with the heavens to the earth.

Kath Ryn our doula arrives. She was one of our midwives during Otto's birth, and became a good friend this year, helping us with our grief. With us in this birth, we trust her so much to know what is going on, to know where our hearts will be, with two babies. When she comes in, she is full of smiles and light, so excited. We feel calm considering this is the time, this is the moment.

Contractions were about 5 minutes apart. It got harder. I talked, laughed, joked. Then it got harder. I laid down, breathed. It got harder still. Till the point where I truly believed, I cannot do this. It's too much, too hard, I want to be safe and have this stop! I yelled it out. Plus some other colorful words. My body can't take this, my mind can't take this. I missed Otto, I thought of the hospital he was in.

20 minutes later, and only 15 minutes of pushing, I heard my baby criy. She cried loud just like we wanted! She was in my arms, a little fish, I could hardly hold her, she was so fluid. Her eyes open, real, with me, and it all seemed as it should. It was real. I couldn't believe it, but it was. 1:31 am. 7 1/2 pounds, 19 3/4 inches. And perfect.

The grandparents had all arrived, all 6 of them in the waiting room, Ryan's parents all the way from Etna, CA, 6 hour drive. Pretty amazing considering I was in hard labor for about 7 hours, they came as soon as we called them.

After about a half hour of holding her, of having my baby find my breast and nurse, of touching her, unbelieving and yet completely natural, the grandparents walked in, a line of love and tears, men and women, glowing with love for this baby, our girl, Otto's sister, their grandaughter. They stood around the bed and peeked in, cooed, and when they'd given love and kisses enough, went home and celebrated - at 3:30am!

The hours and days following were intense with love and amazement, with tears for Otto, with seeing how things should have been with him, with seeing how she looked like him, how she was different. My baby was put straight into my arms, healthy, no problems. No problems. No problems.

And this is how it has been. She is pink and gaining weight, the doctor compeletely happy with her development, with everything about her. When she cries we want to know what's wrong, it is slowly ebbing from fearing the worst to realizing she is a baby and babies cry, and you can't always know what's wrong. The long learning of letting go, but being completely there.

The first eight days we had her were full of amazement and also heavy with aching for her brother, with remembering his eight days here. And the 8th day was Thanksgiving. All our family around, all our family pouring out love, everyone here for the roundness of our lives, to hold and kiss our beautiful baby girl. To hold us in our pain, to let us feel everything, in any order.

There has been so much I've wanted to write and can't quite get to the computer. This baby loves to be held, and we hold her, and there is not much more important than that. Than this milky love, pure love, that grows each night. My little one, I want the best for her. I want to love myself more so she will know how to love herself. I see how perfect she is and realize that I was that baby too, that I am perfect.

I will fill more in as I get time, many thoughts, and some will be forgotten. I want to BE with her. And let the time pass slow, let the days come and go and love her, fill her up with this cuddling, with being always near her, showing her that now, life is just about being near to each other. What a glorious way to be.