He and I stare down at the freshly laid gravestone, edged by spring-green grass. "When people come into our office for this," he trails off, shielding his eyes from the morning sunshine, his weathered face suddenly young in disbelief. "It's the absolute worst when this happens," he shakes his head, unable to speak the words "baby" or "dead" in the same sentence. I nod. I can say anything; I have already baffled him with my sunny cheer, interrupting his silent, solitary task by jumping out of a minivan full of (living) children to ask if this was my daughters' gravestone he was laying. When you start having a Strange Conversation with a Stranger, you can say anything and it is marvelously freeing. (It wasn't theirs; there is another baby buried next to them now; she lived two months; my mind calculates the math every time; dates are codes in this terrible club.) "It's not like Grandma who got 80, 90 years, lived a full life," he continues, waving a heavy hand toward his … [Read more...] about hearts of flesh & hearts of stone
infertility
the mystery of growth
Infertility. Miscarriage. Infant loss. It is not lost on me that the story of our family has become a story of three deep losses. Who gets ALL of that? A girlfriend asks me, half-kidding, half-despairing. I know, I laugh in that dark way we learn to laugh when Irish blood runs through our veins, tragedy and comedy flowing together so we can survive. I know. But what I don't know is what to do with this story. Tell it, of course. Trust that the vulnerability of the telling has already changed lives, mine and those of people who write to me or stop me in person and share that something in our story has resonated deeply with theirs. But how and when and where and to whom to tell this story - all these questions have been churning within me for months. Whenever I have felt grief settling over my life like a hard, vast dome, impenetrable and suffocating, I have to remember myself back into a better metaphor. Grief is not something … [Read more...] about the mystery of growth
for all the mothers
You are the hoping-to-be mother. You are dreaming of a baby, maybe for years. Every month you wait and hope. You daydream about nurseries and names. You envy other women's round bellies and glowing smiles. You chart days on the calendar and read up on ways to increase your odds. You promise yourself you will never take a single day for granted once it happens for you. I have been this mother, too. Part of my heart will always be here. . . . You are the expectant mother. You marvel at how your body is changing (and how hard pregnancy can be). You pour through books about what to expect. You wonder at the kicks and flips that keep you up at night. You count down to hear your baby's heartbeat and see their sweet profile on the ultrasound screen. You wash tiny onesies and snap belly shots and write a birth plan. You try to imagine how your world will be transformed in a few short months. I have been this mother, too. Part of my heart will always be here. . . . You are … [Read more...] about for all the mothers
the problem (and the promise) of mother’s day
I am a mother. Mother's Day is not supposed to be hard. Glossy ads and glittery cards tell me this. I am supposed to enjoy a light and easy day! Put up my feet and pamper myself! Delight my children's affection! Bask in my husband's gratitude! Eat breakfast in bed or indulge in sweet desserts or let the waiter offer me a mimosa on the house because...motherhood. But the reality? It's much more complicated. . . . Do you know who I think about every Mother's Day? I think about my mom, of course. I think about how she still has to pause before answering the supposedly simple question of "How many children do you have?" Because my brother died decades ago, but he is still her son. I think about a dear friend who dreams of adopting, who has been another mother to my boys, who lost a baby to miscarriage. Because the world would not include her among those we celebrate with brunch or flowers, but she is more mother than almost anyone else I know. I think about the baby we … [Read more...] about the problem (and the promise) of mother’s day
