By early evening last night, it was quiet in the house. The guests had gone home. The kids were sleeping. The kitchen still needed to be cleaned. The activity of the day had subsided, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Continue reading
Release. What I Need.
To Mother Orca
Photo: The Seattle Times
I first heard about the grieving orca on Day 2. Her calf had died within a half an hour of being born, and the mother – J35, or Tahlequah as she is known – began carrying her baby, pushing him through the water, refusing to let him go. Continue reading
On Being a Witness
Last night was my support group and I didn’t want to go. I had gone to dinner with friends the night before and was out past my bedtime. I could feel a sore throat coming on and wasn’t feeling well. Rather than going and listening to the other parents share their stories about losing their babies, I really wanted to curl up in bed and watch Project Runway. Continue reading
A New Permanence
I got my first tattoo five months after losing Iris. Eight days before her due date. I wanted to carry an acknowledgment of all of my children. After perusing photos online of various tributes from parents, I found one and it was perfect: birth dates, done in a square formation and typewriter font, in the upper part of my back. It was simple and I could show or hide it as I pleased. I used a tattoo artist that a friend recommended, at a little hole-in-the-wall shop several suburbs away. Continue reading
When Yoga Practice Hurts
I managed to escape the house and go to yoga on Sunday. A full 90 minutes in 105 degree heat.
It was a busy morning at the studio. Often overcast days mean yogis run inside to the hot room. A woman had her mat very close to mine: someone I recognized as an experienced practitioner. Continue reading
