I walked

I walked with Tessa yesterday in the woods and hills of Point Reyes.  The dark underneath of the world.  The sour, wet earth, a running creek, trunks with caverns in them, great mothers.  It comforts me, to know there is a great mother who holds the dark places, the wombs, who knows the darkness that I walk, the path of loss, of wanting to go down down. Not that I want to die, no.  But I want to be in the dark. The trees held that for me.  Gnarled and old and crouching by the water, sprawled out toward the places of light, winding to get a piece of the sun. I felt just like them. They are covered in moss, and when their turn comes for the sun to hit them, they glow, all around, the moss radiates the light. Tessa said, "mind, remember this."  A glowing tree. 

Since I grew up in the woods I know about shadow and light.  I know that it is mostly shadow, and that the light wavers.  But you notice it more, it has a shape and a heart, you move toward it, you feel it on you.  It encases things, it loves them.  I need both. I need the mother who understands the dark, who isn't afraid of it, who knows that it is a part of us, a part of the earth, not to shy away from it, be big enough to take it in, to be it.  This is a part of what we have lost in putting women into a smaller place, this big mama holding of the shadow. Women hold this in their hearts. To be the place where your child grows, to talk to your baby, sing to him, eat for him, and know him, to give birth to him, to then let him go, back into the arms of the earth, the arms of GOD, this takes a heart with a dark forest and a little creek and a floor where things die and rot and then become fertile again, fertile for another life. I am proud of this dark place. 

I am grateful for the father sun also, to shine on my skin and make me look up. We walked into the meadow, into the sun, the trees where on a hill, to the west.  Their branches moved up and down, just a little. They said, "that is the mother of Otto. She brought him here." And they knew you.  They knew who you were and that you came. I love you baby. I am glad you came here, to me, to my belly, to my heart. It is hard to keep taking steps but I am getting braver. And I will keep visiting that place with the trees with the caverns in them, with their openings into the black, because they know what this is.

I love this picture of us. I need to look at pictures a lot. To feel your weight and know that you are our baby, we are your parents. We miss you so much. Days are very long. A search for what it is all about. It is hurtful to have you gone. I was really angry today. To unravel these feelings seems impossible. But slowly I unraveled. I hugged my friends. I told your dad I was sorry for exploding so much. People want to hang out and I just don't think they know how much hurt is in me. It can be really lonely.

I hold the blanket you are wrapped in here at night. I hold it close to my chest and belly like it's you. I smell it. You are my precious one and you are gone. And I don't understand. Why the world goes on. Why other people get pregnant with their babies and have their families and their joy and I watch them go on, without me. With their joy.I tell you every day that I miss you. I write it down. I will write it down and say it to you for a long time. And it will always be true. I love you and I miss you, my sweet son. i send you a kiss to heaven.

Hello my baby. Today is warm, strangely warm for January.  In the 80's here. Like a summer day.  The plants are all confused because they were just freezing and now they're dry.  And the full moon has come and gone again.  I like looking at our pictures together, me holding you.  

Our little friend Chester died yesterday afternoon, our sweet little yellow bird we've had for 5 years. It brings up all the pain of losing you, losing another part of our family.  We brought him to the vet to see what was wrong, he was puffy, and we knew he had some organ problems, and they wanted to keep him for tests. I didn't want to leave  him, but I was so upset by being at a medical place again, having to make decisions again, I just left him and went to the car and cried and cried. He died at the vet.  I was so mad at myself, that I didn't have the clarity to just bring him home, to let him be at home to die.  I didn't know he was that sick, but I had a feeling.  

I am so glad, my baby, that we took you home. This makes it all so clear. You were home in the quiet with just the whirr of the fan overhead, no beeps, no loud, laughing conversations of doctors and nurses who seem so clued out to our last hours with our son, no machines to watch, no needles in you, just you. Just a baby, just our little boy, where you were conceived, where you grew, in the same bed, in our arms.  I am so glad that we had you to ourselves, to ease to the other side. We were such a team, I wish there were a more graceful word for it, but we all three worked together, our souls enmeshed, as you let go, bit by bit, as you shut down, bit by bit, we were with you, over you, guiding you. Never alone, covered in love.

I hope Chester had some comfort as he died, I hope he felt our hearts with him.  I think part of his dying there was to show us that we did the right thing with you. So Chester, thank you for your brave gift.  We miss you.  We hope you are flying free with your friend Clarence up there, I hope you fly over our sweet Otto.  

I realize sometimes that I don't feel as valuable a person without my little boy to take care of. To eat for, to sleep for, to watch everything for. It's easy to feel like it's not as important to eat, to eat well, without this little body and spirit who was also partaking. I just read something that reminded me that I am worth feeding, body and soul, as just me.

I don't feel as important, not being a mom. I am waiting for the day I am a mom again to be important again. And, as hard as it is to live it out, this is not true. I am still important, I am still a soul, just like Otto, I am as important as him. This part of my life is real too. This part that is so hard and dark and gets so old, and I see it stretching out in front of me for long miles and it just doesn't seem worth it sometimes. But I have a garden in the back yard and it makes me happy to work out there. To put my hands in the dirt. To care and tend it. The sun came out as I was doing breathing and stretching in the living room and it shines on me as I breathe, and I am alive now. I don't just want to wait till I'm pregnant or have a baby to feel good again. I know Otto wants me to feel good things, I know he loves me. I just can't stop crying.

New Moon

The moon is dark tonight. The light is snuffed out, and we are in a cocoon, gray sky, warm heater, damp and cold outside. Our friends Nate and Katie visited this afternoon with their 6 month old Selah and little Finn, almost 3. It felt so good to hold this baby. She smelled so good, she smiled big, and felt so good against my chest, in my arms. I have been aching for this. And I hope that it will just be a happiness, a relief, rather than a downer later when I realize i won't be holding my own baby again, no baby of mine anytime soon. Not soon enough for me. I have decided that I am done with trying to understand life or say anything wise or poetic about it. At least for now, I'd like to be neutral and just here. Because nothing else makes sense. I am alive, I get up, I eat, I hug Ryan, I sleep, I enjoy walks, I am. I am noticing things and passing the time. That is all there is. The new year approaches. I am not brave enough to hope for anything right now. The hour passes and the next passes.My sisters will come over and I will make them cookies and we will pass time together. And then I'll sleep again. Here I am.

Christmas Eve

I wish you were here, baby. It's raining outside and was dark still at 7am this morning. I know you're here, I know you want us to be happy. Life is different than it ever was, each moment a new stepping into the void of unknown things. Just being here, being alive. We got you a pretty ornament of a golden bird with it's wings spread wide. Your dad picked it out for you. It reminds me of you, golden and sacred and full of joy. I know I never saw you smile but in my memory I did, I can see it, and it feels like you did. I love you so much. I know you'll help us get through the next couple of days. I don't want to move. I want the world to be as still and heavy as I feel. But we will get up and drive and be with our families and be still in the midst of festivity, and give hugs and get love and hope that we're not too much of a spectacle of sad things. Life does go on, but we take you with us. And your dad can really make me laugh and he knows how and thank god, he helps me over my stuck moments that way.

Merry Christmas, baby. We love you.
Love,
your mama

I carry your heart with me

I carry it in my heart. The e.e. cummings poem says everything perfectly. I am getting better at learning how to drive and talk to you, Otto. How to work and be with you. How to do the dishes, and lay in bed in the morning, and have you so close to me. It is not the same as your soft warm skin, but I can remember it. On some days, on days like this, I feel your peace, I feel so grateful to have met you, to have this seed planted in me that will grow more and more substantial with every day, for the rest of my life. Into a great tree. Even though you were a newborn baby when you died, you will have roots and branches and a big trunk for me. I will always have you as my son, I will always mourn you. Till the end of my days. I will always love you. And learning how to love like this is work, and it is worth it. I look at your picture and my heart aches, and I cannot tell if I want to sing for joy or pain. I cannot tell them apart. It is one big scream that wants to come out. A yell. A note. I am so glad you are with me. I am so glad you are my baby. I miss you but I have you. I am so glad you are here.