A redefined life

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Each day is different.  That is the craziest part about this grief.  Some days I feel strong, like I can face this life and get through it and even find a rhythm I can be proud of again.  Other days, I can't see past my pain.  I have an idea of what I would like my life to look like moving forward.  I'd like to re-find myself - pieces of my old self, that is.  I know life might last a long time and I need to live it as fully as I can.  It is the best way that I can honor Max.  The quicker I get through my days, the sooner I will see him again.  Learning a new way to be happy is the best way to mother Mo.  He deserves a happy, funny mommy.  I think I am already doing a pretty good job of putting my best self into loving him.  I want to find a way to engage with strangers who ask me about my children that feels honest.  I don't see myself ever saying Mo is my only child, but telling perfect strangers about the MOST personal tragic trauma of my life in casual conversation seems to understate my loss and my love.  I haven't figured this one out yet but I am working on it.  I want to get to a place of understanding that this life is hard and to just let it be.  I am tired of fighting that truth.  My struggle can be there without my constantly trying to battle it or suppress it.  Being Max's mom is part of what defines me.  I don't want to put that away.  It is a part of me that deserves a voice...and, not just here, on this blog, where I don't have to look it in the face.  Being Maxie's mom will continue to define me...I want it to.  I also want being Mo's mom to define me.  My boys are my entire life.  From the moment Max was born, nothing else really mattered.  I want to spend time with people who make me feel good and listen to me.  I want to create boundaries to shut out those who don't.  I want to learn how to have fun and enjoy the good parts of life.  If I don't, if I believe that life is only sorrow and trauma, then I wouldn't want to give life to my children, right?  I must still trust that overall, life is good.  That is why I gave life to Mo.  That is why I want to give life to more children.  To deny that which is good in life is to be a hypocrite now that Mo is here.  There is room for happiness within my grief, or grief within my happiness.  I am looking for these windows and they are slowly opening for me from time to time.  I don't love or miss Maxie one ounce less just because I am finding pockets of peace.  Nobody that I care about is judging my path...and if they are, that is their issue, not mine.  They haven't walked in my shoes and I haven't walked in theirs.  I want to live an honest life...never pretending to be more healed than I am...never feeling like healing is a denial of my sweet Max.


These beautiful bracelets were an anniversary present from Teddy to me.  
They are Hamsas (a middle eastern symbol for good luck)
with our boys Hebrew names engraved on them.  
Yehuda (Maxie's Hebrew name) and Eitan (Mo's Hebrew name).

5 comments:

Susan said...

What a thoughtful present. I think you will find a way through it all - it just takes some figuring out. xx

Jared Brumbaugh said...

Abby they are beautiful. I haven't been around but I enjoy so much the posts from the previous weeks. MO is just so beautiful more each day. Love, Kira

Adina said...

Although we don't know one another "in reali life," every time I read your blog, I think about your devotion to your beautiful boys. You are strong, even when that strength manifests itself as vulnerability. On a lighter note, your hamsas are beautiful--I think there's a Jewish mama in western Massachusetts who's going to copy your husband's wonderful idea.

Stephanie Sajjadieh said...

" I want to find a way to engage with strangers who ask me about my
children that feels honest. I don't see myself ever saying Mo is my
only child, but telling perfect strangers about the MOST personal tragic
trauma of my life in casual conversation seems to understate my loss
and my love. I haven't figured this one out yet but I am working on it." I am in no way suggesting an equal scenerio here, but I struggle with this every day, as well. I will always be a "twin," despite Andrea's loss, but when I meet someone new who asks if I have siblings, I hesitate to mention Andrea. I then have to invite them into my loss, which makes everyone uneasy and, as you suggest, makes it feel so casual, negating. On another note, I think of all of you daily, though I rarely post here and have been part of the absent.

heather said...

abby the bracelets are beautiful. your post about your anniversary brought tears to my eyes. you and ted have been through so much. sending much love xxheather

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