I'm sitting here with my lukewarm cup of black tea with honey, my new staple, and I'm trying to decide if I can sort my thoughts out enough to get them in this blog. Not wanting to is the opitome of why I'm all angsty, which is usually when I end up in this place, usually leaving with the satisfying purge that is a good cry.
This weekend is mother's day. It's just another in the list of days I wish I could cut out of my personal calendar. Skipping days that make me sad seems to be a lot easier than trudging through their muddy traditions.
Any given day of the year if someone asks me, how many kids do you have? I get all racey and quickly confused in my mind, do I tell them? are they asking? should I say four? do I really want to tell them? who are they? do they already know? so then what do I say?
My answers always come out so casual. Something like "we have Malachi (6), Josiah (4), Ezra wo died when he was two months old, and now baby Hazel. It's really easy to say because I've gotten the routine down. I don't really want to tell everyone about how desperate it feels at times, and really cry...because it's still really sad for me.
But when we "celebrate" mother's day, I will be solemn, because I still cannot describe how deep in the pit of my soul there is this ache. It's lumps in my throat and tears choked down to my gut. It's headaches from a furrowed brow and restless sleep. It's confussion so intense I just want to close my eyes and lay down. I want it to be time, to this day I still hope it will all go away, that things like mother's day will again be all party and bliss. I feel as if I'm supposed to be over this, mostly so that my family doesn't have to caudle me along when I'm sad.
Tonight I got the chance to post Hazel's birth story on a new website the midwives are putting together. I reread the story and rememberd so closely how intense it is to give birth, naturally surrounded by people who send much love. And it's on my mind that loosing a child is so intense to the same measure, countering all the joy and excitement, the pain and angsting.
I don't want to do this, I don't want to try and celebarte something that ultimately swirls me back around into my pain. To the blatant truth of death, it's harshness, and my precious little baby.
So I tell myself I'm not going to church, and I'm not going to hang out with the extended family.
And the truth of it all is, I'll probably go to church, sit in the back and subject myself to the torture of talking about mother's day, and how wonderful it is to be a mom, and knit and choke down the lumps in my throat, and then go to the family get-together, and receive the questions/suggestions as to how I can do this without Abe.....and to all that I say..... don't care!
I love my kids! I can't imagine me without them, we have the greatest understanding of each other. As their mom, if I wasn't honest with my pain, they would not know they honesty and rawness of my love for them. How I am able to appreciate their spirits so intensely because Ezra has taught me how to embrace the spiritual realms of the here and now.
I'll focus this Mother's day on that.
I love you still baby Ezra...so many days after you were here with us. I remember mother's day in Homer when I was so pregnant with you. We went to the beach...and I'm sure Daddy got me a latte at K-Bay :) I wrote grandma a note in the sand and posted our picture on our blog...you were right there with me. And if I could go between here and there.....even for one second. I would....and it would make my mother's day.