I wrote this as a comment on Glow, that amazing wonderful place that has held me together over the last year.
I’m copying it here to remind myself, on the days when the empty and dark feelings have me by the throat and won’t let go and when it seems that life, any amount of life, is not possible to survive or wish for.
That the vicious, brutal truth is that life goes on and the world does not stop spinning and that it is right that it is so.
And that no honour and love and beauty is shown by being the person who falls the hardest or grieves the worst for a baby. That unbelievable as it seems the glory of that child and what they brought is living and living well and to thread them through the world with your strength and beauty and joy is the greatest honour.
And that it seems impossible. But that it comes, because sometimes that is what motherhood is. To keep going, despite everything. What began in labour… one more contraction, one more push… ends up being what motherhood is always, to a living child or a dead one. Just always getting back up and keeping going and managing.
You will do it. In a week or a month or a year, you will speak of what that child brought you and how you have grown. You will hate and rebel against the thought that it is all you get, until you get to the day when you discover that it has come and you are glad it has.
My boy has made me just as much who I am as any of my living girls. Maybe more so. It is not right that I have to do that without him, but I am grateful that I have that part of me now that is forever him.