“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” ―Anaïs Nin
"Your life will begin to improve when you define precisely what ‘improve’ means to you. The agonies and frustrations will start to ease only when you have something real and positive to replace them with. Be specific. Happiness is not a goal, it’s the result of a life well lived. The question is: How do you want to live going forward?"
During the last week of 2013 I took some time to reflect on the year. It was undoubtedly the hardest year of my life. I thought about the journey my grief has taken me through. The small miracles that made survival possible. The kindness from friends. The support from strangers. The emails and calls and letters. The people who know what I am going through and the people who can't know but care enough to try. I think about the first couple of months of 2013. I had a small checklist next to my bed:
1. Brush your teeth
2. Shower
3. Eat Something
4. Take your dog for a walk.
Those were the 4 things I had to absolutely do in a day when I couldn't bring myself to do much more than breathe. I was operating on survival mode. There I was creating checkpoints in my life that made still an active participant of the living, at least on the outside. I read books, and went to therapy. I went to support groups and did the HEAL group. I called friends and vented. I decorated Mateo's grave during the holidays and celebrated his due date.
I cried. I cried all the time. I cried in the car on the way to anywhere and everywhere. I cried at night. I cried in the shower. I cried alone and I cried with others. I cried from the depth of my despair and when I had no more tears to give, I whimpered myself to sleep.
I spent a lot of time alone, in my head, sorting through the pain. I didn't allow myself to get distracted from grieving. For a while there I would set an alarm on my phone with a reminder that it was time to grieve. And so I would stop what I was doing and I would dedicate that time to reading or blogging and crying and feeling. I knew the only out of my grief was through it. There are no shortcuts with grief. And so I sat with it and let it engulf me to the point of suffocation. There were times where I literally thought I would die from the pain. But I didn't die. I allowed myself to experience the full force of what it means to have loved a child, to have held him in your arms and to have watched him pass away.
This doesn't mean I am "okay" now. It means I didn't die also. And because I didn't die in this space I can now choose to live. And I don't mean survive or just get by. I mean actually live. With love and joy and excitement. Things I never imagined feeling again a year ago today.
And so at the end of 2013 I took some time to reflect on the year and found gratitude for the miracles around the tragedy. I'll never be grateful my child passed away but I can be grateful for things around his death. Like the love I have for him and the love others have for him. I am grateful for the people that loved me through my pregnancy and then through my loss, our loss. I am grateful for the strength I have found inside, for the lessons in humility and the faith that come with healing.
And so at the beginning of 2014 I took some time to set intentions for the New Year.Because while 2013 was my year dedicated to survival, 2014 is my year dedicated to living. To embracing the wide range of experiences and emotions people who aren't fully consumed by grieving are given the privilege of having. 2014 will be my year to learn how to laugh again. I plan on falling in love with life, a little wiser from having been hurt by it and a little stronger from having survived that. A couple of weeks ago I met a nice guy and we have started dating and I hit a milestone in my journey. I had to tell him about Mateo. Really tell him. Of course he didn't see me a year ago when I was just a zombie version of myself whose day was a success if it included basic hygiene practices. He didn't see my tantrums with God. He didn't witness me lay at Mateo's grave and weep uncontrollably for hours. He just gets to hear me retell the story. And in that brief moment it became something that happened not something that was happening. He didn't run. He held my hand and was kind. He listened. He challenged me to think about some of my beliefs around my grief. Most of all he listened. And held my hand. And it was nice.
2014 is my year of learning to live again and to hope and to dream and to love. I respect the role 2013 had to serve in order for 2014 to matter and to that I say welcome to this New Year.
