6 months ago
Thursday, September 26, 2013
second birthday (a sorta farewell)
Well, it's been a long time, and a lot’s happened.
I rediscovered my love for writing.
I wrestled with God and I lost. Lost God.
I gave birth to a baby boy.
I’ve come to some sort of peace with Sunrise, and I’d be lying if I said it had nothing to do with the birth of my second son.
It was a tough nine months, filled with anxiety, fear, dread. Not an experience I ever want to live through again.
But now I have another boy, and he’s the spitting image of his big brother at the same age. My days are filled with breastfeeding and numerous diaper changes. My arms are full.
I am overwhelmed by motherhood once again.
And I’d be lying if I said I never take it for granted.
Because I do. When J. wakes up in the middle of the night or when he cries and seems inconsolable, I grumble, I stress, I complain.
But then I picture myself standing over a little grave. And I shut up.
And so, when all is said and done, I’m grateful. And humble, because I know how quickly it can all fall apart.
And this baby-time is so short, really. Before I know it J. will grow up, and my heart strings will be tugged at and lengthen as he and his brother make their way further and further out in the world.
So I savor it. A wine whose year I will never taste again.
As for Sunrise—she seems almost an anomaly to me now. A small, piercing blip on my lifeline. A wonder with a full head of blonde hair.
She’s marked me.
She’d be two years old today. I miss her desperately. I hold J. in my arms and think: He would not be here if Sunrise hadn’t died.
But I’m not happy she died, and yet I’m happy he's here.
I’m learning to live inside a paradox.
As you can see, much has changed. I look back on my old posts and see how far I’ve come.
Her second birthday. So different from the first.
We did nothing overtly special to mark the occasion. I didn't go out. The day started out cloudy yet bright, and then the sun came out. Autumn is starting to touch our yard. I made some lemon squares (I like to think she would have had a weakness for lemons and sweets—like her mother). I gazed into my new son’s eyes and told him about his big sister. I made sure to say her name out loud. We talked about her, D. and my husband and I.
It was enough.
I know every year will be different.
So today I sit at home, holding my new baby in my arms, and think not on what I have lost, but what I have gained.
* * *
And so, my friends, where does that leave us?
The past year has been so busy, so fraught with heavy emotion, that I’ve neglected this little blog.
I’ve kept myself occupied with other things, things that helped me get through the hardest months.
Reading like crazy.
Working on my postpartum doula course.
I’m also finishing up an apprenticeship with elephant journal. It was a much appreciated opportunity to learn about something I love to do (edit and write) and I’m grateful for the experience. Curious to see where it will take me.
I wrote a piece about Sunrise which I’m especially proud of. You can read it here.
I won’t be updating nine months and a day anymore. Or at least, not consistently, and not for the foreseeable future. I’ll probably keep the resource page up to date, but other than that...
I will leave my Facebook page up for now...but I’ll probably delete it after a time. I’m not so enamored of Facebook, really, and I don’t think the page really serves any purpose if I’m not going to be updating regularly here.
Writing helped me get through a lot, helped me sort through a lot of conflicting emotions. This was a safe space for me to retreat to, to come and grieve for the enormous loss I endured. But I find I don’t need that space anymore.
If you'd still like to hang out, and you like to knit, you can find me on Ravelry.
If you'd still like to hang out, and you love to read (I hope you do!), you can find me on Goodreads.
Whatever the future holds, I will leave this blog here, in perpetuum. Maybe a grieving mother will come across it someday and find something I’ve written resonates with her. Maybe she will find a resource that can help her through the toughest days.
I like to think of this blog as my memorial to Sunrise. Any good that comes out of it honors her.
Thank you for sharing this journey with me.