Today* was painful. In a silent, stripping, heart wringing way. It was painful. A day marked for remembering the Motherhood of those Mother’s who have lost the very lives that have made them such. I read the words somewhere that we do not need a special day, words that I appreciate in their intention to include these bereaved Mother’s in the “real” holiday to happen a week from today. Still they are words that do not understand the pain and the comfort in knowing that today we could do just that, embrace the comfort of motherhood along with a pain of having lost. An ache that does not seem appropriate with the confines of a traditional Mother’s day.
I thought of each and every woman I know today that has lost a child, some early in pregnancy, some in infancy, some beyond. I counted them up one by one and wept at their magnitude. I followed links and hashtags online and ached for the vastness of this new community I’m suddenly a part of. I peaked in on women in different stages of greif. Some raw, some angry, some shining with acceptance. I marveled at their strength in circumstance and wept some more.
I wept because 7 months and 15 days later I do not know how or why my daughter died. The answers I thought I had were medically untrue and while I will not stop until I have gathered every fact I refuse to remain undone.
We have a silly story that has evolved over time, some version of which Nova has heard since she spent her days snuggled inside my shirt in the NICU. I whisper it to her almost nightly but never to anyone else. But tonight, after we’d read 4 bedtime books and Nova and Xavier were both still wide awake demanding water and milk and back rubs I closed the door on any hope for me time and decided to tell them the story together for the first time. I tell them a tale of the Sun and the Moon who created a great star that divided into two tiny lights destined to each become a great warrioress. I tell her that they grew together in a universe surrounded by hope and peace and love. That their destiny was to bind together to create great change in the world. I tell her that for weeks they grew and grew but the longer they grew apart the weaker they became. That despite all the love and peace and hope and medicine the tiniest star began to flicker out. The universe called to her, and pleaded for her to stay. But she answered them saying she had grown too weak. That she would streak across the sky one last time and flicker out so her twin star could shine on. She told them that she would live in her and promised to guide her through her journey. And then she slipped away. I tell her that after the tiniest star went out the other star grew weaker too. The tears of the universe made it difficult for her to shine and she missed her other half so deeply she wasn’t certain she wanted to carry on alone. But just when it looked as if it was her time too, she heard her sister’s promise, “I will guide you… You will walk. You will talk. You will live and dream and fly”. That very day the star started to shine brighter and brighter still each day that followed for she decided that shining on did not mean doing so alone. And while she is still tiny she is tremendous. I tell her that if she looks in the mirror she might just see her. And that if they’re lucky, they might catch a glimpse of her sister twinkling by her side.
And I smile at it’s silliness but for a moment they’re both asleep. Breaths off beat and filling the air with a symphony of peacefulness. It’s in those moments that I realize, I might not have the answers and the truth may lie somewhere between the mystery of medicine and our tall tales but what matters is that we will never let her spirit die. I am the mother of three. I will always be the mother of twins. They may not all be alive together with us on this earth but what matters is that they are alive in our hearts and in our home. I am still standing and somewhere, so is she.
* Today is International Bereaved Mother’s Day. A day dedicated to the memory of all the women changed and all the children lost. Sending love and light to everyone who shares this pain.
** The quote on my image was gleaned from a dear friend of mine at Four Plus an Angel. Also, a loss mom and a wonderful writer.
