I’m thinking of my Bunny today, as I’m sure many of you ruminate on lost children or babies still confined to your dreams. I stumbled across a sentence in my reading that I want to share with all the childless mothers looking for a safe space to breathe today. It goes,
…I wonder if hope might be the most precious thing we have, even more than love, for if we love but cannot hope, we live in a bleak world.
B and I have been wrestling with some powerful uncertainties and pending test results since I wrote last that cast a very complicated light over the future of our embryos and our chance at biological children, and it’s natural, I think, to become conditioned to expect disaster when this crazy life has wended its way without warning into so many violent upheavals. Lord knows we have love in abundance: it’s the love (even when it’s unrequited) that makes us hurt. Today, if you’re squirming in the darkness of longing and despair, find the courage to let the sun shine in just a little, wish upon a star, believe in the inevitability of brighter days.
In a few minutes, I’m going to slide into my sneakers and let my feet carry me until the feelings turn to vapor, and then I’m spending the day in the soil, planting, cultivating life in other ways. John Steinbeck lived out his last years – infirm, aware that he was dying – at his cottage in Sag Harbor, where he whiled away his remaining hours with his hands in the earth, sowing seeds he knew he’d never see blossom. Like him, steeped in death as I am right now, there’s therapy in immersing myself in blooming lilacs and the sweet little nest that appeared just outside my living room window.
It’s like borrowing hope from the grass and the birds and the tree we planted soon after we lost the baby, which now resides happily in our backyard, devouring the sunlight and rainwater, green with the promise of new life after death. Be gentle with yourself today, sister-friends, and maybe a little selfish if you’re not strong enough to bend with tradition and the expectations of others. And like Anne Frank, who found solace in a chestnut tree,
Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.
…just for a minute, just to survive this day. Love to you all ❤