I’ve been “camped out” for almost 7 weeks now, reliving every moment of Norah’s time here with us.
There’s been a lot of reflection, a lot of meditation, a lot of prayers, a lot of tears, a lot of smiles, a lot of fears, a lot of hugs, and a lot of pain for the four of us.
THIS is the space between Norah’s incredible birth and her tragic death. This short space was her entire life. This time is filled with the most beautiful memories, meshed with the deepest, most painful physical and emotional pain; so deep that I couldn’t have begun to understand the depths of it prior to experiencing it firsthand.
There have been haunting moments filled with the deepest darkness – moments I did not anticipate happening again; moments that almost destroyed me. There have also been moments of renewed light that I haven’t been able to experience in quite a while. Joy and gratitude is felt so much deeper now.
However, I continue to live a life constantly questioning myself and others, lacking confidence in my mothering skills, losing my zest for life and laughter, still trying to get to know the “new me,” feeling like a failure because I couldn’t keep all of my children alive. Grieving. It’s an ongoing struggle knowing that we’re not at all spared from losing our other two children just because we’ve already lost one – dark thoughts are prevalent when you experience the darkest times. Yet through all of this I’m learning to laugh again, I’ve experienced joyful events, and I’m beginning to see growth within my mind and within my soul.
It’s all so confusing.
It’s all so terrifying.
It’s all so exhausting.
It’s all so enlightening.
Recently, of course, a lot of memories have been resurfacing. So many beautiful photos have been reminding me of what we had, and of what we lost. They’ve forced me to revisit the time when I was privileged with giving my all to all three of the beautiful girls who grew inside of me and who are a part of us. I was nurturing everyone in every possible way I knew how.
I was gifted with a book, an amazing book, at the retreat I attended last year:
You Are the Mother of All Mothers: A Message of Hope for the Grieving Heart by Angela Miller
This book has given me so much hope and comfort, on both my darkest and brightest days. It’s been a much needed reminder, in this space between, of my mantra: “Love is all I’m capable of.”