"Edited to Add"....

This started as a pregnancy blog when I fell pregnant in May 2009 after four years of finding a donor, doing all the counselling / paperwork / tests and trying.

And now, thanks to a 4WD which skidded onto our side of the road, killing our baby daughter at 34w and injuring me, my partner and two of my stepdaughters on 27 December 2009, it has turned into something else. We didn't want this something else, but apparently it is all we've got to go on with.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Right Where I Am Project: One year, Five Months.

I love Angie's idea for this project - of putting a pin on our own specific grief maps and saying, "this is where I am now", "this is what the terrain looks like around here, this far away from the epicentre".

So here is my terrain: still bumpy, lots of debris, but we're making a road here, starting to clear a path. I have to be careful with this metaphor - I don't know that I want to describe Z as an earthquake or a volcano - though maybe the accident itself deserves that kind of imagery. This is part of my trouble (and I guess for many parents who lose a child before or soon after birth) - that I have two cataclysmic things to get my little brain around - being mother to Z, and the trauma of losing her. Each is so huge on its own, and then they are so intertangled.

I have a better sense now that part of my job in parenting Z is to trace where she went when she died - to resolve for myself where her little soul went so that I can keep loving her and learning about her. When you prepare for parenthood, they don't tell you that you'll need some existential philosophy. But I think that is one of my main tasks for Z. And as far as I can tell so far, she is here in this world - in fact, she is in the process of re-connecting me with the world I felt so lost in after the accident.

Something big shifted in the last couple of months so that I feel more settled with my grief. Where before, when I had heard people say that Z would "always be with us", I had nodded and vaguely agreed, now I genuinely and literally feel like she is always with me. Somehow it has become real. There's still sadness that she's not here in the fleshy, noisy way of other children, but I recognise that as my own small sense of not getting what I want, rather than any failing on her part. The sadness at losing her and the joy at having her as my daughter are getting woven in together, so that I can hardly tell which is which. It's specific to her, and my love for her, rather than being measurable as happy or sad. So, I'm still a bit of a weepy mess, but in an alive way rather than a broken or depressed way. I feel like because of loving Z I understand more about living and dying.

29 comments:

  1. This poem is gorgeous. It not only makes sense, but I think it is perfect. I cannot believe the amazing work and writing that is coming from this Right Where I Am project. Awesome. That poem gave me goosebumps. Thank you for participating and being wonderful. xo

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  2. Oh Hanen, that is absolutely beautiful. I wouldn't change a single thing about it.

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  3. Here I am, sobbing. For the utter beauty and heartbreak in your poem. It is beautiful, you know. And maybe I'm just a sap. But I wanted to let you know that it moved me so.

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  4. The poem is wondrous. Parentheses and all. I am going to print it out.

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  5. I am in tears.. I have no words. Thank you for sharing this with us.

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  6. the poem was utterly astonishing. I would say breathtaking, but truthfully, it made me breathe. It fills up and lets go, all at the same time.

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  7. Lovely lovely poem. A beautiful way to honor your daughter. Love and strength to you mama~

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  8. Oh, thank you all so much - now you're making me cry!

    (ps Ya Chun - parentheses was the word I was looking for!)

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  9. What a lovely poem. I've been thinking about you a lot lately- and so am glad to hear about where you are right now. Thank you for being so strong and for sharing your strength with us.

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  10. It is beautiful and makes sense. I'm so glad you shared it.

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  11. Oh, Hanen. I love your poem. I wish I could go back in time and share it with the me of almost three years ago who kept getting rhyming poems about baby angels sent to her by well-meaning relatives. Those poems hurt me. This one, this one helps.

    And I am thinking about what you say about being a weepy mess, but in an alive way. That really resonates.

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  12. Hanen, the poem is breathtaking. Beautiful. Perfect. I love the parentheses.

    Thinking of you and your sweet Z. Thank you for sharing this, for sharing you, for sharing her.

    xo

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  13. What a beautiful poem.

    Thank you for sharing this. What really stood out to me is when you said, "The sadness at losing her and the joy at having her as my daughter are getting woven in together, so that I can hardly tell which is which." I know I am far from being in a place where they are integrated, but I have definitely put effort into not just focusing on the tragicness of my son's death, but also remember the beauty and joy I felt when I had him alive and squirming in my belly.

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  14. Just beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing, it broke and warmed my heart at the same time.

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  15. Oh wow, that is simply stunning. I don't know what else to say, so I'll have to leave it at that (also so I can go back right now and read it again).
    Love to you. Always remembering Z.
    xo

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  16. Hanen,

    This is my first time at your blog and I just want to take a minute to say how sorry I am that you lost Z.

    This poem really brought me back to the time when I was 1 year, 5 months-ish. There's so much wonder in this process of letting go of our babies that often goes unappreciated by people who haven't been on this road. You've captured it perfectly.

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  17. Hanen, I can completely understand all that you say here. The poem is perfect. Thank you so much for sharing.

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  18. Yes, I have to read your perfect poem again! That's it exactly. That's where they are. I'm keeping your poem, I hope that's ok.

    Thank you.

    xxx

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  19. That really is a great poem. Wonderful words, Hanen. Perfect words in their perfect order.x

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  20. Hi Hanen, this is my first visit to your blog. I'm so sorry for your loss of Z.

    I have to say that your poem is one of the most beautiful ones I've ever read...it was just what I needed to read, even now, even after almost eight years.

    Your words really resonated for me, made me think...and I'm still thinking...this whole concept of parenting our little ones who are not here...the existential aspect of this parenting. For the longest time, I thought this meant doing the physical things...making sure I was out at the grave on the notable days of the year, replacing silk flowers, making sure her last earthly possessions and even those memorable items she never had a chance to use were kept safe and secure. But over time (and it's taken me a lot longer to realize this) I've come to understand that parenting C. means not only the physical tasks, the acts of remembrance, but also really perceiving the myriad of ways she is in our family...how she continues to change us--her parents, influence her siblings, her relatives, others in the wide world. And as we learn and grow, so does our relationship with her subtly alter and I think that she responds as well.

    Thank you for the gift of what you wrote...If it's okay with you, could I please put it, properly credited, on C.'s blog?

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  21. I think your poem is beautiful. I read it earlier this afternoon and it has been echoing through my brain all of this evening.

    It is a mind blowing amount to assimilate, motherhood itself and the loss of a child. Sadness and joy all at once and so closely bound up in one another that you can scarcely tell them apart.

    Thinking of you and El Prima and your beautiful Z who is here in all the places you describe and in that beautiful, particular little pinprick of light. x

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  22. It's my first visit here, come from Angie's project.

    I feel I'm just re-iterating what has already been said but that is a beautiful, heart felt poem that really spoke to me.

    Thank you for sharing it.

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  23. Your poem is beautiful, not cory at all. I do get it and I love the images its conjures in my head, not to mention the sizeable lump in my throat. It is so expressive and leads from your last post with so much.

    Thinking of Z with you when I look for my little star...

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  24. Hanen, your poem is beautiful and it has warmed my heart. I have been looking for those existential answers that so many others seem to have already found.

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  25. I am so grateful to Angie for setting up this Right Where I Am Project and leading me to you and your story about Z. I am sitting here with tears in my eyes after reading your post and your poem. Thank you so much for writing and sharing.

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  26. I'm here for the first time too. I am so sorry about your beautiful daughter, Z. What beautiful, perfect, wondrous words for her and about her. Thank you for sharing them with us.

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  27. Thanks for posting these words about where you're at...and your poem is even more beautiful. I feel like I keep saying the same thing on these blogs, but it can't be said too much: being new to this babyloss thing, I am so grateful for everyone who participated. A glimpse into the future seems hopeful, like at least we can get there somehow, no matter what it looks like.

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  28. This poem is so beautiful and amazing I keep having to return to it. I'm thinking about Z and my thoughts are complex. I'm happy but I'm sad, and I'll always wish she was here to sniff your orangey smelling hands.

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