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With e no longer working I've had very little time to sit and write by myself and very little time to devote the kind of attention to your blogs that I want to...it doesn't feel right and I suspect it will remedy itself in the next few weeks but right now I'm offline more often than not (or online via my phone which STINKS for blogging and commenting)

I also continue to be so moved by our experience on Maui that I just can't put it to words. And it doesn't feel right to NOT put it to words, but right now I feel words are so little compared to the vast experience we had there.

I'll leave you with this photo, for now:

This guava fell from a tree at our feet, in the middle of a forest, just like this. We had just undergone a prayer ceremony and a salt cleanse with a traditional Hawaiian healer, and were bathing in a stream in the forest to complete the ritual.

The picture doesn't even do it justice; a perfectly shaped heart had been nibbled/torn from the peel. We saw it fall from the tree. No one else was near us as it dropped. It fell from a tree where no one could have reached it before it fell.

The day before, E had found a black lava rock in the exact same shape, and then the day we went to return that lava rock to the sea (after carrying it in our pockets for two weeks while we were there) a white coral heart also in this exact shape appeared at my feet as E threw the black heart stone into the sea.

I am one to scoff at "signs." I do not believe my son is an angel, looking over me. But these hearts bring me immense comfort, and I guess I'm having a little bit of a crisis of faith in reverse; trying to figure out something that can't be figured out, trying to allow myself to revel in the magic of it all, and to bathe in Otis's spirit as I so clearly did each time the hearts appeared to us.

Gratitude

Hey, thanks. Yes, you. And you too.

Your comments on my last post (well, actually, on all of these posts) are more helpful than I can really express. I really, really, really need connection right now, and the Real Life connections are harder to navigate for me, and I really appreciate you all coming here and your comments here - both from mamas who are in my shoes (or have worn a similar pair) and have walked these awful lonely dark roads and from my friends from around the bloggy cul de sac of what feels a lot like a past life right now...I don't know how better to express it than letting you know that when I wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep, I pull out my phone and read and reread what's been shared here, and it wraps me a little like a blanket and helps me get back to sleep. During the day, your virtual hands reaching out to hold mine have pulled me out of some serious dark spots. Or just held me while I thrash about in my dark place. Thank you.

Not sure if it was the sun coming out in full force today, getting to see my therapist this morning, the Giants winning the World Series, or some random combination of those events and more, but my mood has shifted a bit today.

I did get a good cry in this morning, in the car on the way to see my therapist. A Dave Matthews' song that spoke to me so much throughout my pregnancy came on - I think it's the first time I've heard it since Otis died. This line, "When the kids are old enough/we're gonna teach them to fly/You and me together/We can do anything..." And it was this beautiful love song, I felt like it was just for me and E and I would get me all giddy about the prospect of parenting with him. I was so excited to do this, to embark on this parenting journey...not just for myself, to become a mother, but because WE were going to do it. Together.

Today, hearing it again for the first time since Otis died, of course it shattered me. I pulled my car off the road so I could sob. And then the chorus came through the second time, and I heard it differently...You and me together we can do anything...

Anything. We can do anything. But this? Why this? Never ever would I wish this journey on a couple. And yet, there it was, a glimmer of hope, a flicker of light in those lyrics this morning. I actually felt lucky there, that I am married to this man that I love so completely, that we are wandering mostly hopelessly through this crazy terrifying forest/cavern/abyss together. E and I are doing this, together. I am a better woman because of how I love him, and because of how he loves me. I love him more than I ever thought I could. I look at him and my heart soars and swells - 7 weeks ago I couldn't imagine loving him this much - and I look at him and my heart shatters because it hurts me so right to my bones that he doesn't have Otis in his arms right now. As robbed as I feel that my baby boy isn't here with me, it is equally devastating to recognize the emptiness for E.

It is one of those blessings that I never wished I had been put in a situation to recognize that I have so clearly gotten to see Erik's ability to be a dad, to parent so completely, to love unconditionally and with no end through this loss.

(Oh my gosh, the schmaltziness of this is about to make me gag. Apologies. It's late and I'm tired and want to get my thoughts in print and don't have energy for editing or revision. Please note that I also reserve the right for any and all future frustrations with him...)