Pure motherly love

Pure motherly love

I wanted to remember what I felt when the nurse placed him in my arms for those short few minutes after giving birth. I wanted to remember how smooth his skin was and how soft his hair felt under my fingers when I would gently rub his head. I wanted to remember his eyes and how much he already looked like his daddy. I wanted to remember the happiness I felt to be his mother.

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Arriving

Arriving

The previous owners lost a child. The woman who lived here is a social worker and specializes in infant and child loss, which we only found out after we signed the sale contract and googled her name. I wonder if they lost a child, my husband and I said to each other then, and our suspicions were confirmed by the handyman who stopped by to remove a memorial stone from the back meadow. Eerie, that connection. The space readied for our exact sorrow.

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Better

Better

Gradually time moved forward and I began to participate in my life again. Slowly, I began to feel. When I previously felt hollow and numb, I now began to function on more than just auto-pilot. I tried to be more empathetic to other people’s situations and I tried to be kinder and less judgemental. Although I still sought out sadness, I tended to do it at more manageable times, perhaps more secretly and alone. Instead of crying in public, I would save my tears for when I was in bed at night while the rest of my household slept.

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