Saturday, September 15, 2012

9.


Nine.
9. 9. 9. 9. 9. 9. 9. 9. 9.
How is that possible?

I thought the days leading up would be the worst. That perhaps nine would be a year where the anticipation was worse than the sting of the day.  I was wrong.

The screams of Christmas woke me from my slumber on September 15th and I realized that Jonasen had discovered the 50 balloons I blew up for him the night before.  On a night where I could say, "Nine years ago tonight I didn't know..." He ran upstairs to my bed and threw his nine year old arms around me and said, "Thank you mom!" I held him tight(er) though he probably didn't notice~ He was off in moments to rejoin the laughter of his younger siblings and I was alone with my thoughts.

Jeff joined me soon.  He was tired.  He had woke early to get donuts for our 9 year old Joe, and to sit and remember Andrew.  Something that he needed to do alone.  Something that I too needed to do alone but this year being a Saturday, it was a luxury I didn't have. Jeff reminded me I should get going to the garden... We had soccer games later.

I felt the water with my hand and stepped in.  My eyes closed and I felt I was in our old shower.  The one in the house he should have come home to.  The shower I sunk to my knees in praying I could wash the bad dream of losing him from my being.  My hands went to my face and my body shook. This wasn't happening.  Why was this happening? I had done this before.  Nine times.  9.

But then I realized, I had never grieved a nine year old before.

Nine.

An age I remember. An age of opinions and thoughts. An age of wonderings of the world. The year before a decade.

I sunk and cried and like those days of long ago can't recall how I got up, toweled off and readied myself to face the living.

No make-up today.  The sun was shining and I was thankful I would be wearing my sunglasses to hide my tired, sad eyes.  For how could I be sad? Nine years ago today I became a mother and he became a father.

I met him in the hallway and he took me in his arms.  Again I sank and he lifted me.  We stayed there for a while until he whispered, "Go. Don't let them see you like this."

I scooped my keys, the candles, the marker, his journal and the fire and I was off to buy his balloons.
Nine.

I got to the garden and walked the path I had walked so many times. On this day.  September 15th. With balloons in hand, I walked to her brick, I wrote her I loved her and thanked her for coming to my dreams.  I kissed her balloon and sent it to the sky.

And then I went there.
To his brick.
With his balloons.
And I sat.
And I sunk.
And I sobbed.
Nine.

I wrote him I loved him. I told him it all. I kissed each of his nine balloons for the nine years he's been away and I watched until they were gone. Faded into the blue.  Faded from sight~ and soon from memory.

I closed my eyes and I didn't see him at 9.  I imagined our reunion.  Him a young man, stepping out to see me when I got home.  Taking me into his arms and saying, "Welcome home, mom.  I got all of your kisses, all of your tears, all of those many, many balloons. Welcome home.  Welcome home."

The game was starting and I knew I had to go. Unlike years past I had to stay strong. I was meant to be here. Meant to stay.  The reunion will have to wait. But one day it will happen.

And I am 9 years closer.

9.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Remembering E


It was four years ago tonight that I lost my little E.
My little spark.
Four years ago today I didn't know it yet.  I didn't know she was gone.  I still had hope.

It was four years ago tomorrow that my hope died. I couldn't believe it had happened again. Again. I sat with the same doctor. Saw the same absence on the ultrasound. Stared into the same tear stained eyes of my husband. Hope was gone. I was gone. I was empty.

Four years later I still remember her.  I still remember that day like it was yesterday.  Her days.  Seeing the test for the first time.  Feeling great. Certain it would be a girl. Dreaming. Seeing that heartbeat again and again.  But still, I remember the spotting, the bleeding, the cramping, the praying, the pleading to stay. stay. stay.

It was "just a miscarriage".  That's what they said then~ and four years ago yesterday I may have agreed with them.  But then it happened to me.  It happened to her and it was not 'just' anything. It was a soul that lived in me.  A soul that left. A soul that I had no idea at the time would touch me like she did.  Like she does.

You can't control feelings but you can choose the way you want to live.  I chose to remember her.  Her life albeit so small and so short (even compared to the brother she joined) was real.  She waits for me.

Today she filled me up.  Today I thought of her as I watched another sweet girl be born into the family of God through the waters of baptism.  I thought of amazing, saving grace.  I thought of her.

I thought of her.
And I smiled.

Remembering E today, on her fourth year with her brother.  One year closer to meeting me~
Though I think she may know me already.