Nora's Birth Altar This Year

This was the first year I celebrated Nora's birth, not holding onto her passing

This was the first year I felt her completely.  Seven years.  This was the year I allowed the ache of missing and loving her wash through and out of me.  I felt the pain but was not the pain.  This was the first year.

This year, I was in the warm water of the South Pacific, Kauai.  I allowed the day to prepare for her birth/passing day to be soaked in salt, water and air.  I was the ocean that day.  I cried such yummy ache, felt it all and was held tenderly and strongly by the elements of an ancient island created by water, wings and wind.  Both Nora and I were held that day.

Maholo Kuaui

February 28th darling daughter

Grief Became My Identity

Grief became that co-dependent part, the extension of some middle school girl hallway.  I wanted to be Grief.

Grief meant I had a link to Nora that no one else had.  My story was important.  My back was never bent.  I was Grief.

Then I started to loose my vision.

I spotted to put importance to a crown of thorns instead of a reed of grass.  Death and life were never asking for my attention or calling to be named.  I sought it.

I do not think this journey with sister Grief is over.  I am simply making choice to enjoy the steps of life green along the way and not pressure anything that is never really asking to be shared.

I am who I am and that is enough.

My children are sacred beyond words and that fills me up.

Life be gentle.

Make a mama find kind, calm center while the waves of grief can malice cluster.

She won't be taken down, no matter how the undercurrent pulls.

The Act of Letting Go and the Yearning for Something More

We learn to sit pregnant in body, pregnant in thought, pregnant in emotion for little or not.

We learn to always make due.  And this next step that feels neurotically real is the place of handing over our next gate of grace.

Never do we possess absolutes and the babe that comes is for full armor suit made of love, cherish and the anxious tremor of where do I hold tight and where do I give flight?

Babes are born from hopes and dreams and who they are is all that they form to be, because they are thee.

Now later when the babes are feeling full and we keep feeding because it lessens the pull, there is that thought of what beyond today?  And even though one of our babes died before it lay, the inner question resonates full force quiet: will I ever raise what I was not honored with at breast?  Will there be a child hungry who needs home and I must save financial place to make space for this little soul that could complete our home?

The questions remain but the answers do not deliver what has to be felt through time and plain.  But non-the glorious luxurious time thought pass, where will the next babe of not womb but of need be born for us to secure his/her stay?

Accept Accepting

Never will I feel that way.  Never will I prod for anything but today but I am stuck, so in that dudgeon of rut muck slop that is of what now, where is my now, how is my now, where do I find some sense of answer of now?

I honored sat before a couple of might and fight who were in the two year struggle of finding sense of where the loss of their child might guide.

I sat.
I reflected that since my five years I have had a pointed pull path that allowed me strength but also mis-guided remembrance of the grief steps following a friend's babe's death.

Dear sister of eyes blue haze, I acknowledge now how I repressed the stare of your year gaze.  It hurt to look at what was so sound fast pace of loosing the babe a year ago and the delicacy of the steps we all have to trace.

My apologies for the abrupt sound fence fury.  Gentle words I used but my quest was of scurry, as I knew that all was meant was of process I forgot that all we humans are made of is just that: process.

Product is what our dark-age culture requires in the human process of reproductive malnourished.

We are behind.

I accept the realities of life as such and feel connected to the pull and tug of what is so very much life, love, bring, be, feel, pull, bind for the greater all and yet here in my luxury of thought I feel for the women who have nothing for not.  The women who birth babes without support to death circumstance and no chance for a voice to shout out, "come, be my thought!"

We are dark in our ages of group surrounding and I am here to be a light of leopard skin seen kin.  We are not alone.  We are not forgotten.  We are of the voyage.  We are solid and so very not thin.

Thick and rich we bring the life of women voice sing.  You, me bring it fierce, bring it whole, bring it light as a fairy would sing.

Thank you mothers of woven life-cycle-end babes gleam, your stories are answers to what our culture requires to feed.

February 28, Wear Our Children's Colors

I read on the most amazing website (Glow In The Woods) of another family who share February 28 as the day of their child's birth/death.  I was so moved by the entry and excited.

I would love to see the day of our children be of color--the color we feel represents our children.

For us, Nora was fire colors--reds and oranges.  She is fire and light, burning us to a new level of understanding.  She is our fire rose.  Apricot spice.

Find your day of birth/death and honor it.
This is similar to Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday--a day to be grieved and honor celebrated all in the same moment.  What was and what is to be.

These are the flags of our children.

Mother Griever

Mother Griever I feel your cry.
Sit her beside the wave of try--try to be normal, try to be okay with the thick and the pain of loosing our greatest gain.

Children die.  Our children died.  No matter the age, the piece remains frayed.  We do learn but the fog is so thick and demanding that we feel still and lame in our attempts to be anything but hardened.

We love fiercely, even when it looks bleak.
We do not falter the harshness of being a mother--real, whole, scared and sold on our children.

Mother Griever you are...

Support: When Are You Ready For Another Child?

Dear Friends,

I understand the fear all too well.  The fear of:

Can I do this again?  Can I put myself, partner and family through another possible pain, another death?  What are the odds it will happen again?  Will it happen again?  How do I support myself when I am pregnant again to not fall victim to my own fears?  How do I not feel guilty for yearning for another child? Am I honoring my deceased child by wanting another baby?  Are my partner and I on the same page for conceiving again?  Will my family support me in wanting to conceive again?  Am I ready?  How do I talk about being ready?

You and your family experienced trauma.  Death trauma of a child.  The wound is very deep.  The wound might never heal, not fully.  This is your reality.

This is another layer of healing when one begins to process these questions.

That is all we can do--find time to answer the instinctual questions we hold about when the next child (grown inside or adopted) is ready to emerge.  You know when it feels right.  You know when it feels right and your partner feels the pull too.  When you both are holding hands, ready to dive off the high dive again, you will know.  Just like a stellar pot of coffee, percolation is required.  Let things percolate and brew to the taste meant for family and you.

The bitter taste of guilt will undoubtedly play a part in your process.  That is normal.  You will feel angst over if or not you are replacing your deceased child with another.  Please hold my hand and know, you are never replacing.  What is felt, seen, heard, learned from outside is irrelevant as you are loving more and more.  More and more.  More and more.  Replacement is not in your vocabulary.

A delicate part is this: Your partner is protecting you.  Please remember this when you feel anger and hurt that he/she is not expressing a sense of readiness.  Listen to heart and instincts of knowing.  Breath deep, relax and allow your story to be told.  You collectively will feel the pull to what is the direction you want to go.

I am here.

Sister Grief To Birth Of More And More

Support: The Birthdays

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

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

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.

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

Lily Lioness

How are you?  I could not believe the extent of your story.  I am so very sorry.

I hope you are in a place of quiet anonymity.  Your creative method can open something profound and earth shifting.  I feel that is your plight.  You were offered this pain to shout truth.  I feel that is my work as well.  Just is.  Just is time, and surrender.  This is the hardest work we will do.  But that, is why, it is, so important.

I am here for you sister.  You do not know me other than through words, and I am thankful for that.

I hope sleep is in the near future for you.  Dream well; they will come if not to you, to your partner.

Much Love and Admiration.

Support: Milk Comes In

Oh Friend, I am sorry.

I remember that excruciating pain so completely when the milk comes in and our baby is not there.

It felt like so much loss all over again.  We are told how to bind ourselves, guided on how to posture our bodies in the shower, in the world, and yet our baby is not there.

If you can, hold in your heart and mind that this is the last of the physical pains during your grief.  When it passes and the milk dries, and it will, you will emerge to a new level of release because your body will be yours again.  You will be able to find a deeper love and understanding to move.

You are so smart in your inner guides; feeding what you need right now (sleep, walks, baking, cleaning, gardening, writing, telling your baby's story).  Do what soothes your spirit and mind.

You are not alone.

Much love and presence,

Sister of Grief

I Am Here

I am here.

I feel your pain and am so very near--to the heart, to the core, to the reality that is so sweet and faces the shore.

I hear the pain that resonates in your pours so pure and clear.  I am here.

Do not fear, shed it.  For the truth is coming straight away.

This journey is rock rumble and it will eat you fast but the thing that will last is the path of focus, narrow, sharp and forgiving past.

I know you feel it sister, brother.  I know you do.

Be the movement, the pass, the breath.  Be the constant togetherness.  Feel the pull of much more than you see.

When it awakes it will consume the essence of free.

Love your child.  Love her/him so full it consumes.  That child will tell you a tale more complete than the presence you live.  Heart break and let it go--is all we can know.  All we can know is to live a human life planting seeds of fruitful grow.

Sisters Grief

I held space for a gentle friend.
Her daughter a kindred spirit to my Nora's end.

We've cried.
We've sang the story of our families.
Together with our men we have grown stronger with each bend.

Twisting, aching, laughing at the bizarre life we now lead as
                Mama of life
                Mama of death.

Harsh
        Yes but this is our then, now, on.

We are sisters grief and I thank her forever more.

The It

I feel It.
          The It that sings pain and ache.
           This time though it is in early surfer waves
                                                                     soft
                                                                     purposeful
                                                                     labor.

She sits with her husband in the trauma room knowing It will come.

She is mother, wife, woman.
                                 Life wife--sometimes a slave to emotion and love.

We are together.
            She story.
            My story.

I held her and it feels of sister.

Her husband, my husband.
Her parents, my parents.

The list long but such tenderness knowing We
                                                                    Stories
                                                                    Living family fabric are different.

And the It
              remains the same.