The things we want to do and the things we want to do. Love both.

Repeatedly We Are Asked

to embody or consume;

to be in kinship with everything larger

or to order and manage everything smaller.

We are asked, every day, to align or separate;

to coordinate our will with everything living

or to impose our will on everything we meet.

And not choosing is a choice. Acquiescence

is different from patience or surrender.

All this leaves us needing to know:

whether to better the song through practice

or to better ourselves through singing.

Every year in October, international child loss month, ceremonies are held in honor of all the babies loved and lost all over the world. Candles are lit, prayers are said, tears are shed. People remember alone, quietly, in the spaces where no one can interrupt. People remember in groups, in congregations, in homes and in parks. Everywhere, people remember.

I attended an Angel of Hope Ceremony here in Central Florida. Most of the people from my support groups were there. We lit candles for our babies and placed roses on the angel statue when our child's name was called. When I was in line writing down Mateo's name on the list of names to be called I heard the woman behind me sigh, heavily. I watched her write one name, and then two names and then a third name. She grabbed three roses and walked away. Her pain was so heavy that for a moment there I couldn't feel my own.

Whenever I drive to and from events like these, or even to Mateo's grave, there is always a sense of anger. The sting behind the fact that there is a big difference between the places I should be driving to with my baby and the places I drive to in order to honor him. I feel cheated. And sad. And angry. But am also grateful for the opportunity to have the latter. I've had every other opportunity to be his mother taken from me. The ability to hold him, and kiss him, and nurture him. The opportunity to watch him grow, and kiss his scraped knees and watch him become a man. Of all the things I have been denied, not even death can take away my motherly duty of loving him. I love him every day. With every breath. I love him every time I drive to a ceremony in his honor. 

I love him.

                                                          

 

The more things change the more they stay. Period.

"They say, if real enough, some see God

at the moment of their death. But isn't

every fall and letting go a death? Isn't God

waiting right now in the chill between the

small doe's hoof and those fallen leaves?" Mark Nepo

Changes. There is something about fall. Whenever this time of year comes around I find myself in the space between anticipation for the future and mourning what is falling. Didn't I just get accustomed to this year? Aren't I just now embracing what it means to be here in this year? Just in time to see it go and start all over again it seems. In Florida we don't get fall like in other places. It isn't obvious in the leaves. The weather will betray you the moment you feel you might need a sweater. But fall isn't about weather or climate. It's about change. A change so integral you feel it in your bones, in your teeth, your cells. It is the time of year when things change from the inside and the world's changes on the outside are just a reflection. 

This time of the year always brings me back to Andre. I find myself imagining what his life would be like today. I picture the him I knew then in the world I live in today and it feels like a puzzle with missing pieces. I can't create, not even in my mind, the man he would have been today. Not the experiences that would have changed him. Not the heartbreaks and not the accomplishments. I can't create him in this world. But I can carry the him I do know and love with me into this world. Because that Andre, the one that brings a smile to my face at just the thought, that Andre lives in me. I miss him so much. 

This time of year also brings about nervous anticipation and grief about next month and the one year anniversary of Mateo's birth. And death. I have planned on going to New York and being with my best friend Andrea. She wheeled me down to his bed in the NICU so we could read him bedtime stories those dates last year. I would like her to be my side those dates this year. Maybe we will do something to honor his birth. Maybe ill just lay in bed and cry. Either way, I want to do it with Andrea. 

So I moved into a new apartment this week. Talk about a change. This perfect mix of old things and new things in a new place with the old you. I went through all my things, throwing some away, relishing in the memories of others. You run into that old picture you hadn't seen in years and question your life choices- "is that what my hair looked like and no one helped me?" You find things to donate and things you just absolutely have to hold on to for posterity. You imagine a great grandchild asking a question about that item- an old journal, a good book with an inscription from ex "to the forever love of my life, something forever and love and did I  mention forever? love always". A piece of jewelry passed down from your mom, nothing fancy but just nice enough that you look forward to giving to a daughter, grand daughter, great grand daughter and telling her its vintage. You imagine what a stranger would picture you like if they went through your most prized possessions. What do my things say about me? Oh the picture our things paint! And then you put it all away neatly in a box and keep unpacking because this isn't the time to ponder mortality or posterity. It's time to find a place for all those dvd's you swear you'll watch again some day.

I can definitely feel that it is fall. I can feel the familiar changes.

Choose Your Own Ending

"Letting go is part of moving on to something better. – You will not get what you truly deserve if you’re too attached to the things you’re supposed to let go of.  Sometimes you love, and you struggle, and you learn, and you move on.  And that’s okay.  You must be willing to let go of the life you planned for so you can enjoy the life that is waiting for you."

When I was growing up I absolutely loved choose your own ending books. I loved reading a book and exploring the alternative endings, one small change, one small choice and the whole story would be entirely different. It's as if all these stories ran parallel to each other and it was my job to navigate them all. Some endings I loved and some I would never choose again. I loved that I could always go back. I could start over and answer a question differently and arrive at a whole new ending. 

Sometimes I lay in bed and I imagine my own parallel life, the one where Mateo is alive and well and growing. I choose a different ending. My days are filled with diapers and crying and cute little baby things and kisses. I lay down to sleep exhausted from being a mom, not from wanting to be one, and I know that my baby boy is sleeping sweetly nearby. I can see him breathe. In and out. An alternate ending. 

I've been struggling with making some big life decisions lately. But then again haven't I learned by now that all decisions are just that? I find myself unable to choose a trajectory for my life. My life has been hijacked by chance. By fate. By nature. So now I have to make choices for this life and I can't bring myself to because I am not done mourning the life I want. I can never have that life. I could have a million other children but I can never have that life. I can never be that Ana with that Mateo who breathes in and out. In and out. So I make choices for this Ana. It is hard to get excited about anything in this life. If I could find one thing that even came close to bringing me joy and excitement I would pursue it in a heartbeat. I didn't just lose my son. I lost a part of my soul. I am not whole. I am not happy.

What I am- is trying. 

It All Fits Inside Each Other and Did I Mention Only Kindness Matters In the End

Begin today by putting your attention on your heart. Take time to connect with and feel how much your soul wants you to know that you are loved and appreciated. Look into your own eyes and see your timelessness. See everything—the joy, sadness, compassion, playfulness, and wisdom. You contain everything. You are whole. Each time you find yourself in front of a mirror today take a moment to witness yourself. As you look deeply into your own eyes, hold all aspects of yourself in loving awareness, silently repeat these words three times, “I see you, I accept you, I love you.” Carry this practice through your day and witness your heart gently open to yourself and others. https://chopracentermeditation.com

Most pregnant women have a partner to go with them to appointments, they have a person that checks in on them and takes care of them and overall sees over their well being. I had a Dr. Carmen. She was my Peace Corps doctor. She was also my friend. And she held my hand through my ultrasounds, she let me cry when I was scared and celebrated with me when I was happy. When I left to the U.S. she gave me gifts and promised to come hold my baby boy in Orlando.A couple of weeks a go, Peace Corps held their Doctors' conference at a resort near Disney. Dr. Carmen reached out to me and asked if she could still come and meet my baby boy, she wanted to visit his grave while here. It was a heartbreaking reunion for me. It was so good to see her and so sad all at the same time. Instead of going to the grave site, I asked if I could share my Mateo box with her instead. We sat and looked through his pictures, we held his little things, smelled his baby blanket. One by one we marveled over how little he was, how cute he was, never having to say but wishing that he still were here. She cried and I cried and it felt so good to cry with somebody. She apologized for crying, people always do. If you only knew how much it means to me to share in that human moment. People are comfortable sharing in your happiness, no one wants to share in your pain, but as a human, I need both. Because she was there from the beginning, because she knew how hard this choice was and the depths of depression I had to wade through. Because she knew how happy I was those last two months, especially that last month. Because as she cried she just kept saying over and over " It's not fair", the most comforting words anyone can share with me. Not that there is a plan, not that I will have more children, not that I will see him in heaven- but "It's not fair". Because it isn't. Because it's random and science and nature and God all in one. And it's hard. I am so grateful to have gotten the chance to see her and cry and laugh and spend time with my Mateo's other momma.

I have been thinking about identity . When loss of this magnitude happens in your life obviously you are changed but it is up to you how you are defined. One of the things I used to struggle with when I was pregnant was my identity and trying to understand how mother's find a balance between being their own person and being a mother. I didn't just want want to be Mateo's mother and give up on my hopes and my dreams. I know that I am meant to play many roles and be many things and while I want mother to be one of them, I don't want it to be the only role. Now I am faced with a similar identity challenge, for while I am a grieving mother, this is not my only role. I still have hopes and dreams for myself that are now intertwined with the shattered hopes and dreams of being Mateo's mother. My identity now runs parallel to itself, split into the person I am and the person I want to be. I want to be the mother of a Mateo who is alive and that can never be and so that identity hangs above me. It is the morning dew, the light mist that touches all things at the beginning of the day blessing it with its presence. It is ever present, this ache, this want, but I am finally starting to allow it to be a part of me instead of all of me. I am a grieving mother. It is one of the many layers to the person I become every day. Some days I am more of a grieving mother than I am anything else. Some days I am more of a daughter, other days I am mostly an activist but on all days I am all things. I give myself permission to be a multidimensional human being, one allowed to be all things when need be and nothing when it is called for.

I feel myself getting stronger but I am not yet strong. Not like before. I know I can never go back but I can become a new kind of strong. Still, I am not there yet. My scars are still too fresh, my pain still too exposed. I am at a transitional place in my life and I have some important decisions to make about my future. I used to be brave. I used to be fearless. Now I revel in caution, I give gold medals to security, I function in familiarity. How long is it okay for me to stand still before I have to take a leap of faith? I do not trust life. How can I? Life does not guarantee that things will work out and I understand this in an intimate way. My cells can testify. Life is random and good things happen and bad things happen and some things just happen with no value at all and you cannot control any of it. You can control your reaction, some of the causes and effects, become an outlier to circumstances. You can create your life to the best of your ability to maximize your level of happiness but always, and I do mean always working within the confines of the reality that all the things you work so hard to control are subject to randomness of life with every passing moment. That life happens to you while you create life and like those Russian dolls that fit inside each other your reality fits inside your circumstances fits inside your perception fits inside karma fits inside whatever. All of it. One inside of the other. And that you control everything while at the same time not controlling anything at all. So I do not trust life because it is not reliable. It is not predictable. It follows no rules. It does not care about fair or right or wrong. It doesn't care that I do not trust it, it owes me nothing and does not aim to win me over. It does what it is created to do, exist. All of the other things just fit inside each other. 

Lantern Ceremony for Baby Mateo

Tonight the members from my HEAL Group and I had a lantern lighting Ceremony in memory of of our babies. As I watched his lantern go up into the sky and become more and distant, higher and higher into the sky I couldn't help but pry for it to reach heaven. I wanted the flame to never burn out. Up, up, up past the clouds and beyond the veil and into the arms of my son. I wanted his lantern to reach him in heaven. Because the small things matter, the ceremonies matter. The moments of honor matter. 

He matters to me and I love him.

                                       This was Baby Mateo's Lantern headed towards heaven

Dreams are just this, and death is just that, and the possibility of anything else is also true.

To be read. 

To be heard. 

To be seen.

 I want to be read, I want to be heard. 

I don't want to be seen.

 To write requires an ego, a belief that what you say matters. 

Writing also requires an aching curiosity leading you to discover, 

uncover, what is gnawing at your bones. -Terry Tempest Willaims

A couple of people have shared with me that they have had Baby Mateo dreams recently. Dreams where they see him, feel him, dreams where he tells them things. I have not had such dreams. What are dreams but a reflection of our psyches? The time when the brain sees an opportunity to process, to take advantage of your stillness and silence and filter through those thoughts you don't make time for. Those feelings that had to be rescheduled make a new appointment during your REM cycle where they will not be ignored. And so what is a dream but neurons and science and psychology? They are that. But only that? Because if you tell me that to your dream with Baby Mateo was a message for me from him who am I to say it wasn't? How do I know Angels don't also schedule appointments during the REM cycle where they will not be ignored? Dreams are just this and death is just that and the possibility of anything else is also true. So Baby Mateo appears to some people in my life and to some of them he shares messages to relay to me. Why doesn't he just come to me? Maybe all my REM time slots are booked until next year and he just couldn't wait. Maybe he just absolutely had to let me know he loves me even if it means going through someone else. Is it real? Who cares. It is real to the people who dream it and so I will honor their dreams and their messages with the kind of gratitude that only a mom who will never hear her child speak can have when someone tells her, your baby has something he wants to say to you.

Right after the Boston Marathon Bombing my mom made a comment about how the bomber's mother was defending her son and was on his way to come and see him. My mom was appalled that she would stand by such a monster. But to that woman that is still her child. Is he a terrorist? Yes. Is he a murderer? Yes. Is he her son whom she loves? Yes. I will not ask that woman to renounce her love for her son. This week with all the news about George Zimmerman and Trayvon Martin I heard an interview that quoted George Zimmerman's parents. They said they were standing with their son and praying for Trayvon Martin's parents. I pictured George Zimmerman's mother, relieved that her son is free and probably scared of what his life will be like from now on. I pictured Trayvon Martin's mother, inconsolable inside, feeling as if she has now lost her son twice at the hands of injustice.No matter where your opinion falls on the case and the situation there are these two mothers who love their sons, no matter who they are and what they've done. They grieve and they cry and they love with permission only the person who gave you life can wear. I remember talking to Mateo when I was pregnant. I would rub my belly and assure him that I would do everything in my power to make sure he would grow up to be a good man. That I would teach him manners, and compassion and kindness. That I would raise him to be respectful and well educated and patient. I would tell him that I wasn't quite sure how to do all this but that I would try very hard, because he was my son. My son. And there was pride in that. I don't get to raise my son. But these women did and however their sons turned out they still love them. I understand that love. I may not understand their parenting but I understand that love. I may not understand their sons and their actions, but I understand that love. And so when they stand by their sons, I wont be the one to ask any less of them. I understand that love.

I was reading an article about First Lady Jackie Kennedy this week. I grew up learning about her here and there. People thought she was beautiful. Her husband cheated on her very publicly. She had a very tragic life. She was a good mother. What I didn't know is that she experienced child loss, twice. She had a miscarriage earlier in her marriage and gave birth to a baby girl who was still born. When she gave birth to this little girl she was around 36 weeks pregnant and her husband was allegedly off skiing with some friends and his latest mistress. What a sad story. I can't imagine being such a public figure and experiencing such a personal loss. Not a private loss, because I feel like friends and family are the key towards healing so it is not meant to be private, but personal. And then I took a moment to check myself- was I pitying her? Because not too long a go a friend commented on how she and another mutual friend were catching up and my name came up. The conversation went something along the lines of " I heard about Ana" "Yea, how awful". And so when my name is brought up in conversation between my friends now, it is done with pity. And sadness. Poor Ana. Forever marked by this loss as someone no one wants to be. Let's pity her from a safe distance. And now here I was possibly doing it to Mrs. Kennedy. But then I realized that I sympathize with Jackie Kennedy. The word sympathize literally means "to suffer together". When I heard her about her loss I ached with her. I do not pity her. We suffer together. And so when my name comes up in conversation do not pity me. If you are commenting on my loss, sympathize with me. Not  "poor Ana" but, rather "my dear friend Ana". Own me and my pain in sympathy.Not Pity.

I am meeting up with some of the members of my HEAL support group later tonight. It has been about a month since we last saw each other and it will be nice to check in. I am trying to make sure I stay connected. It is so easy to isolate myself. To disappear and become so busy in my own head that even the angels have to make appointments to reach me in my sleep only to end up wait listed. So I am trying to create space for people and sharing and angels and healing. Feel free to reach out to me and ask me how I am doing with my grief. It gives me a chance to have to be present with someone else and answer honestly. I appreciate the sympathy and the friendship through this loss and into my healing.

This Started One Million Years Ago But Still Goes On Today

I got pregnant a year ago this week. It feels like a million years ago. I was pregnant a millennial ago. One million years ago this young girl became pregnant. A little life formed inside of her and grew. As it grew so did her love. Then just as quickly as this little life came, it went. But the love did not stop. It continued to grow. It still grows in all the places in her body where a child should have been, should be, could be, but isn't. This started one million years ago but still goes on today.

Feeling is exhausting. I do not judge people for all the ways they have created to escape feeling. People escape with food, entertainment, drugs, alcohol, music, sleep. These things can either take us into feeling and through it or they can numb us from it. I find myself wanting to run from feeling. Coming home and turning on Netflix and staring at the screen. I am not always sure what I am even watching. I am everywhere but here with my feelings. I do some proactive things, like my support group, heart to heart with Penny's group, therapy some times. Sometimes I call friends or I journal. Every now and then I blog ;) But still I find myself resisting. The feeling that prevails  mostly these days is sadness. I wear a blanket of sadness at all times. Can't the world just see how sad I am? How incredibly heartbroken I am? I feel like it is obvious until someone asks me how I am doing. Oh- they can't tell? How am I? I am dripping with sadness. Like a wet blanket thrown over me. I am heavy with it. 

It is hard to not be overwhelmed with expectations. My own expectations. "I should be... " this or that. I remind myself to breathe. How do I merge who I want to be with who I am while taking into account who I have been? Other people expect things from me. Work expects me to be invested. Friends expect me to call. Some people expect me to give more of me than I am willing to or ready to. Sorry I can't get out of bed right now, I am exhausted from spending all day picking up the pieces of my broken heart. That is what I do all day. Pain management. Life management. Piece by Piece. Yea, I can't go out dancing. Not any night this week. I have to sit at home and rest, I had another long hard day of heartbreak.

My life might not be what I want it to be but it is what I need it to be right now. I spend a lot of time alone. I walk my dog. I go to Zumba. I find myself wishing I did more, that I were more than a grieving mother. That I were fun again and alive again. I want to be perky. Instead I am wiser. Patient. Calm. I do not speed while driving anymore. Places will still be there when I get there. If I miss something, I missed something. Nothing is a matter of life and death until it actually is a matter of life and death. When you have been faced with an actual matter of life and death it is hard to fill your day with things that simply disguise themselves as important. I am important. And so I am where I need to be right now. I read and I am quiet and I am lonely even when I am not alone. And I take all this in and say this is my life. The one I have created right now so that I can get through right now. The one I need.

Getting Closer

Go on, the voices say, part the veil.

Not with your hands. Hands will only

tangle the hours like a net. Get closer.

So you can part the veil with your breath.

The world keeps moving in on itself. It's

what it does. Cobwebs. Opinions. Moss.

Worries. Dirt. Leaves. History. Go on. Put

them down and get real close. Open your

mouth and inhale all the way to the begin-

ning, which lives within us, not behind us.

Then wait. When something ordinary starts

to glow, life is opening. When the light off

the river paints the roots of an old willow

just as you pass, the world is telling you to

stop running. Forget what it means, just

stop running. When the moon makes you

finger the wet grass, the veil is parting.

When the knot you carry is loosened,

the veil is parting. When you can't help

but say yes to all that is waiting, the veil

is parting.