Today I choose light

My sweetheart would have been 7 months old today, and I think I’ve come to a turning point in my journey.  I had this thought early on, but I knew at that time I wasn’t ready for it.  I’m becoming more ready now.  The thought was this;  My son’s being in Heaven can be a source of strength and light for me, while still being a point of sorrow.  Somehow, those two realities can live within me. 

This morning as I lay in bed reading the Book of Hope, I remembered something moving I heard in a movie a few days ago.  It was “Eat Pray Love”, during the “pray” part when someone taught Julia Roberts’ character that she doesn’t have to be held captive to her thoughts, that she can acknowledge them as they come, and then tell them where to go, and move on. 

“You have to learn how to select your thoughts the same way you select your clothes every day.  That’s a power you can cultivate.”

I heard something similar from a new and treasured friend and fellow mama of a stillborn baby, just last week.  She told me that her grief counselor had helped her move the loss of her daughter from the trauma part of her brain to the memory part, so that when the images, thoughts and feelings from her loss came up, she would no longer be paralyzed by reliving the trauma in her mind over and over again.  She told me she can now acknowledge the thoughts or feelings as they come, and then she can place them back into the memory box, and continue on with her day.

I have a Rami necklace, so does Ghaith.  We had them made in the first month of our loss.  Each is engraved on the back with Rami's name and birthdate, and each holds a small, precious lock of Rami's beautiful, dark hair inside.  Mine is a tiny sculpture of mother and baby in a gentle embrace, surrounded by a neverending circle – a bond tying them together for all eternity.  

Rami Yahya Sahib
10~23~10

I wear mine almost 24/7, and am getting more comfortable with taking it off at times.  I was holding my Rami necklace this morning when it became true for me too, that I don’t always have to feel crushed by the weight of my loss.  When I first started wearing my Rami necklace, it helped me to feel close to him.  It rested between my plump breasts, which were full of the life-giving milk my body was making for the son I’d never feed.  As my breasts slowly dried of their milk, the necklace fell closer to my chest.  Over the months, my breasts grew smaller and smaller and even began to appear droopy and tired, as if I’d actually worn them out by nursing my son all those months.  But I hadn’t.  And I felt cheated again, because now I have a nursing mother’s saggy breasts, without the pleasure of ever having given suck to my baby.  And now my Rami necklace sits directly on my chest between my breasts, which are now smaller and more saggy than ever.  Thank God for the Victoria’s Secret Incredible!

I used to wear my Rami necklace over my shirt, as a proud mama would show off her baby on her chest.  But over the months as everyone around me went back to their normal lives and I continued to grieve, I began to feel ashamed of that gleaming silver sculpture around my neck, like it was too much for those around me – too out in the open – too in your face.  So for some time now, I’ve been wearing my Rami necklace on the inside of my shirt, close to my heart instead of out in the open for all to see.  It has become heavier with time and shame.  And that’s a hard reality to make sense of and walk around wearing every day; the pride of being a mama completely engulfed by the weighty combination of sorrow and shame. 

This morning when I rolled over in bed, I moved my Rami necklace from the back of my neck where it usually falls between my shoulders as I sleep, to the front in it’s rightful spot on my chest.  I anticipated the weight of placing it there, as I’ve felt every morning these past 7 months waking up anew into the reality of our loss.  But this time was different.  Somehow I was reminded of the words of my new friend, and of the actor in the “pray” of “Eat Pray Love”, and of my own thought so many months ago; Rami’s presence in Heaven can be a source of strength and light for me, rather than a heavy burden placed upon my chest. 

Each day is a new opportunity for me to make a choice.  I don’t know about tomorrow, but today I choose light.  I choose strength.  I choose hope, and it feels good and right to do so.