Thursday, September 4, 2014
We have spent the past week at a small cottage on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. It has been a week of distraction and a step away from a home filled with memories and reminders of our lives with Avyn. It has been another step of healing for my family, and yet today I must return and face my piles of baby clothes and blankets.
This morning I got up early to watch the sunrise by myself on the beach. It was a special morning of reflections for me. This morning marked 2 weeks since Avyn left. Somehow, although I knew the sun would continue to rise, it seemed hard to swallow. I imagined that the moment his heart stopped beating, the world would stop turning for just a while. Everyone and everything would pause to honor him, and then when I was ready, the earth would turn again. However, that is not the way life moves. The sun continues to rise and set, the bees continue to bring in goldenrod pollen, the birds sing, a school of fish flees from a dolphin, another dolphin dies and washes up on the beach and the circle of life and death continues. As earth shattering as Avyn's death was for me and my family, in the bigger picture of life and time it was just a drop in a very large bucket.
I still find the majority of my day consumed with thoughts of him. I replay memories over and over in my head so I won't forget them. I focus hard and try to remember all the ways he smelled during his months with me. I remember the sweet new baby scent, the stink of a very chubby 2 month old with hard to clean folds, the sweet smell of frankincense during his nightly massage and the yeasty, sweaty smell of an SMA babe. I miss them all. I miss his soft head and the feel of his body against me for so many hours of everyday. It is still hard to believe that life will eventually return to normal, and yet I watch the sunrise and know that eventually, for me too, the earth will turn again.
However, for my family, the world will never quite be exactly the same. We have been changed in so many dimensions. Life is more fragile, more sacred and more beautiful. It is something that we all examine closely now. My children will grow up with a reality that I never knew as a child. Sometimes babies die. Sometimes physicians and therapists can do nothing. Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, they still have to leave. It is a reality that I still question and ponder again and again. We also have a new reality. We have memories of a sweet soul that was given to us to briefly hold and enjoy. We have new lessons that we have learned and skills we have gained. As painful as this journey has been, I would never ever want to have missed it. The amount of learning and growing that we have all done is invaluable. The memories that we have are precious. The gift of love we have experienced is immeasurable.