Looking back at my post on this holiday two years ago, I just can't believe how different I feel today. I can't quite explain it. It might be what I've heard some people call "integration". I no longer feel the need to defend myself at every turn for loving and remembering my first born son. He will always be my forever baby, my son, my reason to look forward to heaven. I will always love him, always miss him, and that's just the way it is. He's part of me. Forever. And there's comfort in that.
I'm glad I took the time two years ago to write that post, to flesh out my feelings on the "holiday" that Carly Marie started. It is a necessary one. It stands in such stark contrast to the commercialized bubble gummy Hallmark holiday of Mothers Day, which undeniably recognizes a very different kind of parenting. Not the "delicate parenting" I describe in the aforementioned post.
And I still love this poem so much, written by the lovely Angie, my friend and fellow BLM, in honor of this sacred holiday.
I stumbled upon an article today and found this quote that I felt really resonated:
"The good news is that healthy grieving does result, at the time right for each of us, in an experience of integration. We take stock and say: I am changed by our loss, and I have changed my life as a result of my loss. And we are not shriveled permanently like a dry stick because of our loss. We can feel alive again…probably wiser, maybe quieter, certainly full of gratitude and a desire to contribute from what we have been through.
And all in good time."
~Elizabeth Harper, Ph.D
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