Monday, December 8, 2014

Strapped In



I am currently taking a course called Writing Your Grief offered by Megan Devine at Refuge in Grief. I will share some of my writing from the course here over the next several weeks.


The world looks different through my new eyes. Places that I once knew have to be reoriented with my new eyes. It sucks. I hate it. I want my old eyes back. No. I want my should-be eyes. The eyes of the mom of two alive sons who gave birth to the most loved little alive daughter in the world. I want the eyes of the mom of the alive Alaska Eileen Peil. I don’t care that those eyes wouldn’t know the depths of the loss of her daughter. Her babies. Plural. I can’t believe that I have to drop the y and add -ies to that word. Multiple dead babies. One year ago I was the mom of three alive children. And now I am the mom of two sons and dead babies. What the fuck? How did this brick wall happen upon my life?

And that is exactly how I have learned to repair myself time after time: from the outside in. ~David Cristofano "The Girl She Used to Be"

Time after time is right. This deranged roller coaster derails over and over. But I’m stuck here. I can’t get off, and honestly, I don’t want to. If I could get off and go back to my Before and then continue into my Should-Be, I would go. I would go to my alive daughter who would join our family screaming her little face off. Of course I would go there, but since I can’t do that, I stay here strapped into a cart that I didn’t want, and I ride it out. Forever.