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.