Heaven in my Belly

Luna, now almost 3, has been talking about Otto a lot lately.  She sees his picture. She knows that her baby sister was just in my belly, and that she grew, and we were so excited to see her, and then she came out. 

And she sees Otto's picture, and says, "I can't WAIT to meet Otto!"  I don't know her mind, but I guess she is thinking that he is the next baby that will join our family.  I don't want to tell her that he was already here, and that he is not coming back.  Because I want him to come back too. And I like the thought she is thinking. Part of me, deep in my consciousness still goes, "well, maybe..."

She will include him sometimes in a list of the family with fun things she wants to do, like going to the park or the zoo to see the Heffalumps. She'll say, "and mommy will go, and daddy will go, and Zoe will go and Otto will go!" She knows how we love him, she sees it in how we talk, in pictures of him. And I love her inclusion of him, because that is always how it feels to me. I have three children.  And one of them is a boy.

I've told her  that Otto died, and that he is in heaven, and that he loves her, and is always with her. And I wish I knew what all of that means.  But the words are a way to start. The words "died" and "heaven"  are still strange for me too. I say them and let my consciousness bleed out like watercolor on paper, reaching out toward a meaning slowly, slowly, waiting for one.  She doesn't know what those words mean either.  But maybe she knows more than I do.

Today was the real heart stopper.

She said, "Soon, Otto will come out and see us.  But right now he is in heaven, in your belly."

I'm not pregnant and don't mean to be pregnant.  But the thought that heaven includes my womb, includes my deepest, sweetest connection with him, includes even he cord that brought his nourishment and probably his death, is so heart-filling.  Because sometimes it feels like, when he left, he became again this beautiful spirit, and that in that transition my mothering him doesn't matter as much. People all say he was a big soul, he IS a big soul, and without his little body anymore, is he still my Otto?

This vision of the womb, of my baby in heaven, in that deep, dark mothering space of the universe, deeper even, softer than the universe, and that maybe my womb is carrying part of that space right here, and that Otto will always be fed from that, always be loved by me, by this mother, in that space, is so wonderful.

After hearing Luna say that, and when both girls were napping today, I looked at his beautiful picture, while resting on the couch, and his face looked so peaceful, even almost smiling.  It doesn't always affect me that way.  But today it did. And I will take that as a YES. He is mine, he is here, and he is in the center of all love.

Three Children

My darling ones.

I want to love each of them as though they were my only.

Have all of my time and heart for them alone.

And yet that is not how it works! And I suppose that is what a family is. I want to hold baby Zoë and smell her cheeks, feel their firm, milky fatness as I kiss into them, stare at her, talk to her, hear her talking back, make her laugh, show her things, walk her around, just be with her all day. Know her completely.

And I want to hold Luna all day, hold her hand, walk with her, run with her, read her all the stories she wants, make her favorite foods, hear all of her songs and all of her ideas, get her dressed and brush her hair, love her, be there for her, never say "not right now."

I want to know my Otto, I want to help him grow up, I want to talk to him in the sky, lay on the grass and look up at the birds flying over our little patch of land, watch the sun light the top of the trees, wait for hummingbirds, cry and think and let my mind be still as I watch the sky change, hear the crickets come, see the stars, and feel how deeply they go into the universe.

My heart grows bigger with each child, more and more love comes in, but time doesn't expand and I don't have all my time for each of them. And It's training for life. They will never have every need met, and we need to learn how to deal with that. But they know they are loved. They know we are trying!

I heard a good line in a movie last night and I want to try to remember it.  From the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.  It went something like this:  " the only failure is the failure to try.  And success is measured by how well you take disappointment."

This seemed right to me. And inspiring. My beautiful love, Otto, left and it broke our hearts.  And we are not the only ones to have such a huge loss. All over the world, people grieve such dear things. To have disappointment and to still love, is such a key thing in life.  To have disappointment but not give up on everything.  Especially myself.

I feel so lucky, in some glowing moments, to feel so much love. I will be nursing Zoë in the rocker, and hearing Luna reading her books in her room, and looking at Otto's picture on the window sill and hear Ryan in the kitchen washing up, and feel so full.  In the small messy house and the old kitchen, who cares?  If you have all the nicest cabinets in the world, but have not love...

I am learning to love all of them in the 24 hours we get, and to soak up all my moments and to know that they will only be little for a short while, and we will always look back on these crazy, tired times with aching to have them again.