Mateo's 3rd Birthday Under the Tuscan Sun

You should have seen me trying to describe the words birthday candle to the little old Italian man in the small hole in the wall shop. The shop had books, trinkets and birthday cards and so I took my chances, walked in and tried to ask for a candle. I made the hand motions of a cake, sang happy birthday and mimed blowing out a candle. After a couple of minutes of charades- he reached into a drawer and asked me what number- I held up 3 fingers and he handed me a candle with that number on it and a small lighter. I had spent the day walking around Fiorenze, taking in the views and feeling the sun on my face. At dinner I ordered a slice of chocolate cake, put the candle in top, sang Mateo happy birthday- made a wish- and blew it out. It was peaceful and calm. What else can I be these days? Not too long after a couple sitting close by asked me if it was my birthday and why I was alone. I told him- I was celebrating someone else's birthday, that I couldn't be with them that day but still wanted to celebrate. He and his girlfriend looked at me suspiciousl- "okay, good- it would be pretty sad if you were sitting here celebrating your own birthday by yourself". Yes, that would be very sad indeed sir, but turns out, not the saddest scenario possible. I think the saddest version of that might be, no one honoring someone's birthday at all- for themselves or someone else. To have no one remember you lived, that would be sad indeed, sir.

I really needed this trip. For many reasons ranging from private grief time to needing to scratch my itch for adventure. I was lucky enough to have a friend who lives in Rome and opened her home up to me- come she said- and so I did. A couple of months before my trip she Skyped me and told me she was pregnant. She seemed nervous to tell me since she knew my trip was purposely scheduled over Mateo's birthday. I assured her it was fine- and extended my sincerest congratulations. And then I saw her. And she was 6 months pregnant- around the same amount of weeks I was during my loss. And she's due around the same time Mateo was. And she was wobbling and looked tired but also glowing. And I felt love. How could I not? And so I spent part of this trip with a pregnant lady and the little being inside her talking about how she feels, and her hopes and dream,  and how I feel and my hopes and dreams and what it means to be a mother. And we both got to be mothers sitting in her kitchen drinking coffee. And there was no pity from her or jealousy from me. Just a once pregnant lady getting to share with a currently pregnant lady about what it means to bring life into this world. I having done it, and her about to. Sitting with where our journeys as moms are universal and where they will differ. It was truly a gift to get to talk about Mateo, and to be treated like a mom this week. It was more than worth flying halfway around the world for.

The one thing that stood out to me about myself during this trip was the many times I caught myself saying "wow". Time and time again I would walk into a building, a church, a monument. I'd turn a corner and exclaim wow under my breath constantly. I want to reflect on this not just as a testimony of how beautiful and breathtaking Italy is, but as an acknowledgement at my ability to still feel awe. 3 years ago today I walked out of the hospital without my baby boy and I was numb. A zombie. I have been slowly coming back to life, day by day since then. Patiently. Slowly tracing the scars with my fingers and urging my heart to heal. Knowing well that some places might be raw forever, but most places will find a way to come back together. And so 3 years ago I never would have imagined I would be in Italy, eating cheese and drinking wine in Fiorenze or Napoli. Witnessing the grandeur of the Vatican. Cooking Thanksgiving for my pregnant friend while talking about pregnancy and instincts. I couldn't have imagined that I would ever be in awe again. You see, awe requires appreciation. Gratitude. And that is the last sentiment you believe will ever be felt by you again when you lose a child. How will you ever be happy about anything ever again- you wonder. And for a while you are right. For a long time you don't laugh or smile. There is no room for amazement. For a long time there is nothing and then there is pain. There are tears, and thoughts of dying. There is depression and people watching you closely because they know you are on the brink of deciding if there is anything left living worth. People don't leave you alone for long periods of time at first, but that's all you want to be and you don't imagine ever wanting to be around anyone ever again. You don't imagine laughing with family and friends. You stop believing in miracles and angels and miracles and God. You die. And then you start coming back. And where I once hid in the bathroom of an Okd Navy for an hour crying after accidentally walking by the baby clothes section, I can now buy baby showe gifts. Where I once never imagined being truly happy again, I dedicate my life to seeking it out- the way an adrenaline junkie might be on the constant search for the next high jumping out of an airplane- I am getting in them and flying halfway around the world. I who once was dead, am standing under the panel of God's finger and man's finger about to touch in the Sistine Chapel, I am looking up at it and am uttering the word "wow". Isn't that amazing?

Here are some pictures of some of the wow! Moments from this trip <3 Ciao Bellas!