mother with darkness and light: a conversation

Today's guest post comes from Z's mum. She writes, "My son Zephyr made me a mother in December 2013. He was stillborn. Since the day he left my body I have taken pen to paper, fingers to keyboard. Writing is not a cure-all, but it has certainly been my walking stick as I journey through grief." We are honored today to share this piece by Z's mum, a sort of play/poem that echoes the internal monologue we babylost often have with ourselves. 

Stark naked and stripped of all she believed in, Mother stood alone. Her arms aching empty.

Mother: Who are you?

Darkness: I am darkness.
 
Light: I am light.

Mother: Who am I? Where am I?

Darkness: You are here. I have enveloped you.

Light: You are now. You are yourself. You are slowly finding your way.
I am here. We are all of us here. Dark will always be, but so will I.

Mother: But I...

Darkness: Ha, you fool! You'd been heading at full pelt towards eternal sunshine.
Your broody bright grin, emitted pure joy of motherhood, glowing from within. Didn't you know about me? About death?

Mother: I... I thought I was becoming a mother.

Darkness threatened to overwhelm. Mother's shivering body crumpled to the floor. She sobbed incessantly, uncontrollably. Light reached over to her, Mother spoke falteringly.

Mother: I had imagined...

Light: I am not the light you'd imagined, I am not the source that you were drawn towards. I am sorry that your son isn't here to giggle in the blissful radiance of your smile, that you have been submerged in motherhood without.

Darkness: You once shone as warm and iridescent as sun herself, now you are too weak to face exposure to her rays. Your boy ignited in death's fireball. Your life disintegrated in an instant.

Light: Your life has not disintegrated beyond repair.
I am so sorry...

Darkness: 'I am so sorry' uttered the gentle-eyed doctor, as I crept in amongst tatters of the fallen meteorite. I slithered across the floor like filthy truth, whilst she failed to find your child's beating heart. I'd loitered in the shadows of affectionate happiness (as I do in every life.) In midday heat of glorious expectation I'd have burned, but the moment it all fell apart I found you. I lodged myself inside your pregnant body, next to the torso of your burned out dreams. I wrapped myself around you, smothered you.
 

Mother looked down at her body in disgust. The soft touch of light lifted her from her thoughts.

Light: Though your hearts were broken, though your dreams forlorn, though your tears threatened to plummet heavily into everlasting winter, don't you remember the moment he was born? He was born to you, Mother.

As she looked up, a smile began to appear on Mother's tear stained face.

 Mother: Yes.

Darkness: No.
I am the darkness that was born
I am the night sky that fell when he died.
I am doubt that lurks within.
I am grief that silhouettes your future.
I am sorrow, that swallowed you whole.
I am shadow of blanketed hope.
I am death.
Death
I am undeniable
death.

Light turned to Mother, and offered her a small torch of hope. 

Light: Death is undeniable, but so too is life.

I am love that was born
- and you are still mother
I am sun that continues to rise
- though you don't always welcome me
I am fierce power within
- as you draw from the darkness
I am breath to your future
- if you choose to inhale
I am brighter, more vibrant
- than you've ever before known
I am horizon of hope
- when you're ready to look out
I am light, life, living
- and you are undeniably
Mother.

Mother: I am changed by my child. I walk in darkness of his death, and light of his life. I live for him, live because of him, and I love him.
Yes, I am Mother.

What helps you remember you are a mother or father to your baby(ies) who died? What brings hope and light? What calls down the darkness?