clearframe

you've come a long way, baby

Thea's first photo, just over a year ago.

And, my little toe-grabber at just over five months...

Are you the seed?
Are you a tree?
You can be anything
You want to be.

Everything is possible
Because you're a miracle
Everything is possible
When you're around
'Cause you're a miracle, uh-huh
A little miracle, oh yeah.

-from the album It's a Big World, by Renee and Jeremy

I'm in awe of how far we have come in just a year. This time last September, I was trying to hope, trying to trust, trying to believe.

Thank you, my love, for reminding me of what is possible - every day, every moment.

confession

You may have noticed that it's been a little quiet around here. Part of it is because my days and nights are pretty much consumed with loving on my little girl, and most recently, trying to coax her - often unsuccessfully - towards sleep. There's not much time left for blogging (or eating or showering).

But also, I've been wading through some heaviness in my heart, and I have been uncertain about how much to share. You see, friends, I am very much in need of a stay in what my friend Jen Lemen calls the "Soul Repair Garage."  Much of this heaviness is left over residue from our long journey to bring our daughter into this world.  I have found that my wounds have not completely healed, that the scars are still bright red and tender to the touch. I am trying to understand what these tender places have to teach me about myself and the opportunities for growth that they present. I feel they are leading to a deeper understanding of myself and of the shadows I have walked in for a long time, long before my journey to be a mother began, before all of the loss and pain cracked me wide open.

I have also been struggling with how much of my experience of motherhood to share in this space. Wrestling with this question has led me to reflect on why I started writing in the first place, why I continued to write through our experience of babyloss, and about what urges me to write now. I have always tried to be transparent in my writing, but for some reason, it feels quite frightening and overwhelming to do that now. I'm afraid that if I write about the hard parts - the messy parts - the battles with my ego - that it will appear that I'm complaining, or that I'm not completely and utterly in love with and grateful for my daughter. Because the truth is that I am in awe of her and the magic she brings into my life - every single moment of every day. I am completely and utterly grateful for her presence, and for the opportunities she gives me to stretch my soul, to widen my heart, to surrender.

So, that's what's going on in my little world. Thanks for being along for the ride - wherever it takes me.

 

remembrance

my  jizo statue

Karen Maezen Miller, author of the fabulous, honest, and necessary book Momma Zen, as well as the loveliest of lovely blogs, Cheerio Road, writes today about "the hardest gone" - the loss of our children, born and unborn.

Next week, she'll be sharing words, traditions, and practices that offer guidance on embracing and coping with these most heavy of losses. She'll also be conducting services each day to honor and remember lost children. If you'd like her to include a child in her remembrance, visit her site, leaving the name in the comments section of her post.

Go. Share. Remember.