The following is what I wrote in my journal on the day Rami would have been 6 months old, on April 23rd.

Happy 6 months Rami.

Rami would have been 6 months old today.  That’s quite a mile marker for most mamas and their babies.  It was a rough morning for me, and very well would have been a rough day all together, had I not called Kara and made a date to walk with her in the sunshine.  It’s Saturday, it’s 70 degrees out, and incredibly sunny.  This is the warmest, most beautiful sunny day in months, in many months, in 6 months, to be exact.  I know this because the last time I felt Rami move in my belly was the last sunny day of the fall, exactly 6 months ago yesterday.  The day he died, the weather changed.  It was no small change in weather, it was a marked change and Ghaith and I both noted the gloomy, wet, darkness outside the hospital window that day as we lay in bed with our perfect, lifeless baby boy.  I remember Ghaith commenting on the darkness, and my response was, “It’s gonna be a long winter”. 

I was feeling so dark and heavy in my soul today, just missing Rami, being fed up with Ghaith and his parents and all their expectations, and feeling sorry for myself.  It’s weird to feel so heavy and down inside when the weather is so gorgeous outside.  There are people everywhere.  They are running, walking, biking, strolling their babies, taking pictures, laughing and playing.  It is good to see so many people out, moving, being active and enjoying the sun.  Portland is alive today but I feel dead inside.  It’s like I’m having to re-learn so many things as I re-emerge my life.  These days smiling, feeling joy and being at peace do not come easily, if at all. 

I feel pressure from Ghaith, from our Arab friends, and from others around me to get better, just get over it and be o.k., be myself again.  I look at pictures of myself from before we lost Rami, and it’s hard to believe I will ever have joy like that again, or that I will ever get to a place above this dark cloud of grief.

When or how will I ever get there?

I miss him so much.  I don’t know when that’s gonna stop.  Will it stop?  Will I ever stop wishing Rami were here?  Will I ever feel like myself again?  I’d like to know, and I think Ghaith would too.  He misses Rami, but he misses me more.  The strange thing is, I’m still here, but most hours of most days I’m not really here.  It’s like I’ve become a cast, a shell, an empty replica of myself… but the Tiffany that once was, is no more.  I look like Tiffany, but I’ve changed.  I’ve become someone, or something different.

The other day, I found an amazing example in nature of this feeling I’ve been living in.  I was teaching in a first grade classroom and they were studying insects.  We were reading about crickets, and I was learning new things right along with the kids.  I learned that crickets shed their skin, their entire exoskeleton several times in their lifetime.  They grow out of their skin and literally shed their entire body, leaving an exact replica shell behind.  What’s left looks like the old cricket, but it’s only a transparent, pale colored replica, and it’s empty… a beautiful remnant of what once was.  Beautiful but still… lifeless… empty.

I fee like that.  Still, pale, muted, empty.  A beautiful replica of the Tiffany that once was, but empty inside.

This is what a cricket looks like when it sheds it's skin.

What emerges from that old cricket exoskeleton skin is a gorgeous, vibrant and very alive cricket.  New cricket is bigger, stronger, and ready for the next steps in life.  I know new Tiffany is in here somewhere.  It’s more of a belief than a real knowing.  She’s in here and she’s growing, learning and changing by the day.  She’s waiting to be found.  I believe it’s just a matter of time.  I will not return to old Tiffany, as Ghaith and so many others hope for, but I will become New Tiffany – strong, bold, vibrant and ready to conquer the world.

This is the best smile I could muster up that day in the sun.

I hope my husband will be able to love new Tiffany as much as, or maybe more than old Tiffany.  Lord, please help us with that.

With love,

In-between-Tiffany