Dear Friends,
The "birthday" of your deceased child can be so painful. For us, Nora was born and died the same day. Our memories are wrapped with pain. How do we hold a day like this, where the pain is a massive piece player?
Warmth...
In the hospital after her birth I was so cold from keening, grieving, hormones releasing. February being her birth month and all I want is for warmth--warm me to my bones colors and weather. This year I wanted to garden for Nora's day but the colors and weather are muted and grey.
Today, I just want warm. So I made a fire.
Burning beside something burning can be so cleansing. So I suppose that is what we grieving parents must embrace; looking to the elements (fire, air, water, earth) and feel out what ways we want to honor ourselves with the element's dependable help. After all, are we not all looking for dependability during this time of no certainty?
With Deep Love and Constant Support,
Grief Sister
Monday, February 28, 2011
Today You Would Be Four
Not sure how I feel. Raw and delicate might be the best way to describe. Reminds me of when I would get sick as a young child and the heaviness of homesickness would blanket me. The world felt much too big.
I miss her. She feels spirit still to me today and that makes me ache for her all the more.
I feel still, a bit numb and longing.
Each February 28 I experience something new when re-living the birth and death of Nora. Hurts every time. But it also is a safe haven of memory for me. That was the blessed day I was able to hold her in my arms, kiss her tender lips and be with her those hours.
As I write and cry I recall words a very wise woman shared with me years ago about the releasing of tears;
"Let them settle on your skin, dry where they ran for tears are our medicine. They soothe the sores of pain. They are our body medicine."
I will hold these words today as my Alex and I roll with whatever emotions surface. Tears are my medicine.
I miss her. She feels spirit still to me today and that makes me ache for her all the more.
I feel still, a bit numb and longing.
Each February 28 I experience something new when re-living the birth and death of Nora. Hurts every time. But it also is a safe haven of memory for me. That was the blessed day I was able to hold her in my arms, kiss her tender lips and be with her those hours.
As I write and cry I recall words a very wise woman shared with me years ago about the releasing of tears;
"Let them settle on your skin, dry where they ran for tears are our medicine. They soothe the sores of pain. They are our body medicine."
I will hold these words today as my Alex and I roll with whatever emotions surface. Tears are my medicine.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Oregon Junco You Heard the Call
Little bird you sang my song:
quiet and cool, soft and long.
Thank you darling Gentlemen Junco for your arrival to our paned window was Nora's anniversary of birth to the month and the day.
You arrived on an early dusk, fluttering with message urgency on the pained pane.
You brought our girl home to us in a message from wild earth.
Every morning you arrived with the same quest of see and tell.
Never wavering was our understanding that you were a chaneller of her quell.
You followed us to the garden beds, chattering and chittering a familiar song.
All day long.
I heard, I dug.
You told, you sang.
I cried, I sowed.
You held til Spring's fresh smell bathed the tender beds.
You left us at dusk one month and day later.
We were sad yet feel you each yearly March when the Oregon Juncos find our garden's winter seeds.
-------------------------------------
Dear Readers/Healers,
This was a miraculous nature occurrence where we were visited by an male Oregon Junco bird one month to the day of Nora's one month anniversary of birth (March 28, 2007). Family were present when he arrived and he stayed for exactly one month and a day.
Each morning, as dawn awoke, he would flutter to our Suquamish house back deck that married the main living portion of our home. He would not sit still. He would fly back and forth, back and forth against our sliding glass door--just touching the tips of his wings.
The experience only heightened the surreal experience of grieving the death of a baby. Our baby Nora felt complete with this arrival of a symbolic nature figure--a small winter smart bird. The whole month was heart turning yet again. Yet again.
Look for nature, for spirit, for purpose. Whatever your belief may be, it will manifest. I know. I support. Just listen, just listen and open your heart eyes to see what wants to lead you to more--more than you will ever know.
quiet and cool, soft and long.
Thank you darling Gentlemen Junco for your arrival to our paned window was Nora's anniversary of birth to the month and the day.
You arrived on an early dusk, fluttering with message urgency on the pained pane.
You brought our girl home to us in a message from wild earth.
Every morning you arrived with the same quest of see and tell.
Never wavering was our understanding that you were a chaneller of her quell.
You followed us to the garden beds, chattering and chittering a familiar song.
All day long.
I heard, I dug.
You told, you sang.
I cried, I sowed.
You held til Spring's fresh smell bathed the tender beds.
You left us at dusk one month and day later.
We were sad yet feel you each yearly March when the Oregon Juncos find our garden's winter seeds.
-------------------------------------
Dear Readers/Healers,
This was a miraculous nature occurrence where we were visited by an male Oregon Junco bird one month to the day of Nora's one month anniversary of birth (March 28, 2007). Family were present when he arrived and he stayed for exactly one month and a day.
Each morning, as dawn awoke, he would flutter to our Suquamish house back deck that married the main living portion of our home. He would not sit still. He would fly back and forth, back and forth against our sliding glass door--just touching the tips of his wings.
The experience only heightened the surreal experience of grieving the death of a baby. Our baby Nora felt complete with this arrival of a symbolic nature figure--a small winter smart bird. The whole month was heart turning yet again. Yet again.
Look for nature, for spirit, for purpose. Whatever your belief may be, it will manifest. I know. I support. Just listen, just listen and open your heart eyes to see what wants to lead you to more--more than you will ever know.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
March 28, 2007: Cut Hair, Emotional Shedding
Today is Nora's one-month birth anniversary. I am cutting my hair today. I am cutting it short and similar to how it was when Alex and I fell in love. I am nervous but ready to embrace this important shedding to gain something new. Cut hair of pain. Short hair for breath of green.
April 8, 2007: Lesson or Child?
I gaze at photos of my daughter and think, how can she be so beautiful? Her shoulders, arms, nose, lips, long toes, her beautiful hands. Such tender perfection I was only able to hold for a short while. I wish I could have her here to hold and bath with mama care.
I feel cheated. The anger and sorrow are married. They take turns surfacing to fight and make me exhausted. Tonight, I feel both. I am vulnerable to their mission to breech and dive to a greater place of something--awareness? kindness? compassion?--all are a massive, disappointing unknown.
I want to talk about my baby as a baby and not as a lesson to understanding. I hate it. I hate relating this experience to survival on a boat adrift--some days I collect ample survival understanding and others I loose it all, never to be found again. I feel so lost.
I wish I were exhausted from feedings, sore arms from baby holding, anything but this. I loath this pain. I do not want to be in this here and now. It hurts too much.
I feel cheated. The anger and sorrow are married. They take turns surfacing to fight and make me exhausted. Tonight, I feel both. I am vulnerable to their mission to breech and dive to a greater place of something--awareness? kindness? compassion?--all are a massive, disappointing unknown.
I want to talk about my baby as a baby and not as a lesson to understanding. I hate it. I hate relating this experience to survival on a boat adrift--some days I collect ample survival understanding and others I loose it all, never to be found again. I feel so lost.
I wish I were exhausted from feedings, sore arms from baby holding, anything but this. I loath this pain. I do not want to be in this here and now. It hurts too much.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Apricot Spice Daughter, Happy February 28 Birthday
You are four years memory. Happy hurt for more memory. Happy birthday darling apricot spice daughter.
I raise you in memory.
I raise you in story told--for others to release some-something-glorious something.
Wind-aa-ya-ho, wind-aa-ya-ho, wind-aa-ya, wind-aa-ya, ho-ho-ho-ho, heh-ee-o, heh-ee-o, ya-ya-ya. Nora va, va. You were born of fire, be of fire, more of fire. Blessings from your warm glow.
Four years and I feel you so ever more.
Darling girl. My darling girl that broke and re-opened my heart. Thank you for the medicine that allows me to see your brothers and extended mama give Vashon crew the love light you never allow to be put out.
Darling spice girl.
Darling apricot sweet girl.
Darling Daughter.
Four years--four years--four years--more to come.
I raise you in memory.
I raise you in story told--for others to release some-something-glorious something.
Wind-aa-ya-ho, wind-aa-ya-ho, wind-aa-ya, wind-aa-ya, ho-ho-ho-ho, heh-ee-o, heh-ee-o, ya-ya-ya. Nora va, va. You were born of fire, be of fire, more of fire. Blessings from your warm glow.
Four years and I feel you so ever more.
Darling girl. My darling girl that broke and re-opened my heart. Thank you for the medicine that allows me to see your brothers and extended mama give Vashon crew the love light you never allow to be put out.
Darling spice girl.
Darling apricot sweet girl.
Darling Daughter.
Four years--four years--four years--more to come.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Swedish Held Our Hands, Our Hearts
There are not many times in ones' life when sincere vulnerability is exposed.
My body, my mind, my heart, my partner, my family were the most out-turned with a pain deeper than oceans or mines when we entered Swedish Hospital, February 2007.
We collectively did not want to be there; hearing what we had to hear, embarking on what we had to do.
Through the tears we looked at the doctors, counselors, nurses and felt held. There was no judgment or commands. There was information offered and listening to be had. My greatest ally became my assigned Dr. Lan Tran. Thinking her sweet name brings tears to my eyes because this amazing doctor, this amazing woman created safety when I felt so afraid. She, alongside Dr. Luthie, who was present during all three of my baby's births, created a unified front of comfort and keen knowledge of how to be--intellectually and emotionally sound.
I hope for the day when I am greeted by these dear-heart doctors in a space devoted to honoring them. They are a giving tree fruitful in space, holding the most despaired and we dead-in-soul few.
Thank you dear doctors and nurses (Rebecca from now til the end) who held us so tenderly so we could find some reason to mend.
All our love and thanks,
Emmy and Alex Graham
My body, my mind, my heart, my partner, my family were the most out-turned with a pain deeper than oceans or mines when we entered Swedish Hospital, February 2007.
We collectively did not want to be there; hearing what we had to hear, embarking on what we had to do.
Through the tears we looked at the doctors, counselors, nurses and felt held. There was no judgment or commands. There was information offered and listening to be had. My greatest ally became my assigned Dr. Lan Tran. Thinking her sweet name brings tears to my eyes because this amazing doctor, this amazing woman created safety when I felt so afraid. She, alongside Dr. Luthie, who was present during all three of my baby's births, created a unified front of comfort and keen knowledge of how to be--intellectually and emotionally sound.
I hope for the day when I am greeted by these dear-heart doctors in a space devoted to honoring them. They are a giving tree fruitful in space, holding the most despaired and we dead-in-soul few.
Thank you dear doctors and nurses (Rebecca from now til the end) who held us so tenderly so we could find some reason to mend.
All our love and thanks,
Emmy and Alex Graham
Monday, February 7, 2011
Roots
Roots be nimble
Roots be quick
Roots be simple but make our story thick.
We seek connection and village lust.
Sometimes the truth hurts, makes us fuss. But always core to our final end is that we people find quiver in life's massive bend.
Family is definition.
Family be own.
Family be soaring alongside bows gentle blown.
The question of geographic blood touch makes us hunger
for the truth,
for the shiver,
for the answering thunder.
I know where I am but where was I before, when grandmas and grandpas fought for us to prove more?
Roots be quick
Roots be simple but make our story thick.
We seek connection and village lust.
Sometimes the truth hurts, makes us fuss. But always core to our final end is that we people find quiver in life's massive bend.
Family is definition.
Family be own.
Family be soaring alongside bows gentle blown.
The question of geographic blood touch makes us hunger
for the truth,
for the shiver,
for the answering thunder.
I know where I am but where was I before, when grandmas and grandpas fought for us to prove more?
Friday, February 4, 2011
Support: Friend & Family Outreach, How You Can Help The Grieving Parents
Dear Family & Friends of the Grieving Parents,
This experience has opened our hearts and understanding even wider but the journey is hard. The upcoming months will be a new form of possible emotional challenge for the grieving parents as the adrenalin passes and life becomes semi-quiet again. This is when (at least from my experience) the gritty work can begin and deep sadness can definitely be a bi-product.
During this time, reaching out with weekly emails and asking to come and visit can be soothing to grieving parents. For me, this was an important step because I was able to share our story and the more I shared the closer and more connected I felt with Nora (being that my fear always was that she was going to be forgotten and during those early months I needed to find ways to stay in touch with her--find a rhythm of parenting a deceased child).
What to say is, "I'm so sorry this is happening to you" and it is totally alright to cry. You feeling the pain allows greater release for the griever. You are offering a gift by feeling. Also remembering why you are there is key: offering a space to listen and in a kind way, absorb some of the pain by simply being compassionately present.
What is very helpful is when loved ones show a willingness to listen, not solve or take the pain away but to just listen and ask "how are you"questions vs. detail filling questions.
When you come and visit with the grieving parents it is fine to say, "When and if you want to share your baby's birth story, I would love listen." As I shared, the next couple months might be hard for the grieving parents and talking about this life changing experience can be very comforting because baby then is alive in their family fabric.
I have suggested that grieving parents think about setting up an altar for their baby. For us, our Nora altar is decorative in the colors we feel her as (reds, oranges, yellows--fire), special pieces of nature (stones or sand from a Pacific City/Vashon/Byron Bay beach) and candles to light the fire to see where we are headed.
When family and friends came to visit they sometimes brought small beauties from nature or a letter to our Nora offering gratitude at the altar.
A respectful question to ask would be, "Do you hold a place in your home that I may offer a loving message to your baby?"
Regarding outside questions from inquisitive community members (and I say from great love but protectiveness in this delicate arena), it is best to say exactly what the grieving parents said as their family story. That is all people need to know. The details of the death do not matter.
The core that should be focused on is that the parent's baby died. If people get demanding about details with you (because they NEVER will with them) then end the conversation, you are the grieving parent's advocate and with that; protection and respect are needed.
Much love,
Emmy
This experience has opened our hearts and understanding even wider but the journey is hard. The upcoming months will be a new form of possible emotional challenge for the grieving parents as the adrenalin passes and life becomes semi-quiet again. This is when (at least from my experience) the gritty work can begin and deep sadness can definitely be a bi-product.
During this time, reaching out with weekly emails and asking to come and visit can be soothing to grieving parents. For me, this was an important step because I was able to share our story and the more I shared the closer and more connected I felt with Nora (being that my fear always was that she was going to be forgotten and during those early months I needed to find ways to stay in touch with her--find a rhythm of parenting a deceased child).
What to say is, "I'm so sorry this is happening to you" and it is totally alright to cry. You feeling the pain allows greater release for the griever. You are offering a gift by feeling. Also remembering why you are there is key: offering a space to listen and in a kind way, absorb some of the pain by simply being compassionately present.
What is very helpful is when loved ones show a willingness to listen, not solve or take the pain away but to just listen and ask "how are you"questions vs. detail filling questions.
When you come and visit with the grieving parents it is fine to say, "When and if you want to share your baby's birth story, I would love listen." As I shared, the next couple months might be hard for the grieving parents and talking about this life changing experience can be very comforting because baby then is alive in their family fabric.
I have suggested that grieving parents think about setting up an altar for their baby. For us, our Nora altar is decorative in the colors we feel her as (reds, oranges, yellows--fire), special pieces of nature (stones or sand from a Pacific City/Vashon/Byron Bay beach) and candles to light the fire to see where we are headed.
When family and friends came to visit they sometimes brought small beauties from nature or a letter to our Nora offering gratitude at the altar.
A respectful question to ask would be, "Do you hold a place in your home that I may offer a loving message to your baby?"
Regarding outside questions from inquisitive community members (and I say from great love but protectiveness in this delicate arena), it is best to say exactly what the grieving parents said as their family story. That is all people need to know. The details of the death do not matter.
The core that should be focused on is that the parent's baby died. If people get demanding about details with you (because they NEVER will with them) then end the conversation, you are the grieving parent's advocate and with that; protection and respect are needed.
Much love,
Emmy
Support: An Altar
Dear Friend,
Have you thought about an altar for your child somewhere in your home?
We've found that having a space to place sweet little pieces of nature, notes, pictures, a candle to burn has been soothing for our delicate hearts.
When I have yearned for my connection with Nora I light our altar candle and speak love and thanks to her.
This is my way of feeling her when she seems so far away.
Have you thought about an altar for your child somewhere in your home?
We've found that having a space to place sweet little pieces of nature, notes, pictures, a candle to burn has been soothing for our delicate hearts.
When I have yearned for my connection with Nora I light our altar candle and speak love and thanks to her.
This is my way of feeling her when she seems so far away.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Laura Ingalls Wilder, Are You My Grandma?
Little House On The Hill, nestled on the island and the coast.
For those of you who knew me well when I was very young; Laura Ingalls was my savior, was my second chum.
She was rowdy.
She was righteous.
She was a fighter til the end.
I look at my lady pioneer, how she lived a life with little fear
and think about
what I may bring
to this earth to help it sing.
She brought it.
I bring it.
I rejuve the path of the great.
We women are women who climb logging ravines for grandbaby's tear of late.
For those of you who knew me well when I was very young; Laura Ingalls was my savior, was my second chum.
She was rowdy.
She was righteous.
She was a fighter til the end.
I look at my lady pioneer, how she lived a life with little fear
and think about
what I may bring
to this earth to help it sing.
She brought it.
I bring it.
I rejuve the path of the great.
We women are women who climb logging ravines for grandbaby's tear of late.
Sweat Lodge Living
Water on the stones.
Levels on levels we feel the harsh-hot intake.
Can you take?
Don't know.
The stones so hot.
The lessons so hot.
Where do I burn?
Where do I learn?
Water on the stones.
More, more, more.
Ah, Spirit come and breath that voice.
Spirit where are you?
I burn.
I learn.
The pressure is crushing, there is no room. No air. I want to escape.
This tent--this breath--this massive intake.
The darkness boasts for inner look. I am scared, what will I find? Those stones be burning from the beginning of time.
Is there a drum or is it my heart? I am about to explode from the quiet dark.
Then, the settle.
I accept.
I accept that this is my story on the griddle.
My
Mine.
It is the know.
Sweat lodge Life
Live
Long, it hurts but that's what it takes to spirit grow.
Levels on levels we feel the harsh-hot intake.
Can you take?
Don't know.
The stones so hot.
The lessons so hot.
Where do I burn?
Where do I learn?
Water on the stones.
More, more, more.
Ah, Spirit come and breath that voice.
Spirit where are you?
I burn.
I learn.
The pressure is crushing, there is no room. No air. I want to escape.
This tent--this breath--this massive intake.
The darkness boasts for inner look. I am scared, what will I find? Those stones be burning from the beginning of time.
Is there a drum or is it my heart? I am about to explode from the quiet dark.
Then, the settle.
I accept.
I accept that this is my story on the griddle.
My
Mine.
It is the know.
Sweat lodge Life
Live
Long, it hurts but that's what it takes to spirit grow.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Support: Ashes Come Home
We understand you are feeling such complex emotional layers right now (fear being a larger player). This is part of the process. The painful fear, the painful wound created when we parents hold child as ashes.
It hurts, it hurts so badly.
Your ache is valid, your anger is valid.
For this moment, please try to soothe one another as you experience the raw hurt and know you have your child with you, always. Your child is woven in your family fabric. Your child is rooted in your hearts, memories. You will never forget.
We remember, we understand, we send such love as you find your way to calm.
You are not alone.
Much love,
Sister and Brother of Grief
It hurts, it hurts so badly.
Your ache is valid, your anger is valid.
For this moment, please try to soothe one another as you experience the raw hurt and know you have your child with you, always. Your child is woven in your family fabric. Your child is rooted in your hearts, memories. You will never forget.
We remember, we understand, we send such love as you find your way to calm.
You are not alone.
Much love,
Sister and Brother of Grief
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