The day that’s been on my troubled mind for the past couple of weeks has arrived. Lo and behold, I’m still breathing, still standing. It’s hard, knowing all that I’m missing. Part of me still wants to lay down and never get up again, but the rest of me keeps pressing on, looking for the light. I began the day wanting to avoid all things that are directly and clearly “Mother’s Day”; unfortunately, that meant, to me, that I was not ready to show myself or navigate the world outside of my home today. Which also means that I missed Mother’s Day with my own mother, and my grandmother too. I know that I can’t get this time back, and I am ashamed that I didn’t feel strong enough to face the day, even with these amazing women who love me. A piece of me feels so intensely guilty that I decided to avoid it altogether, or at least avoid the usual ways I would have spent it in the past. Chris and I worked on Lucy’s Garden for a good portion of today instead, which seems to have helped me maintain my composure for now. No meltdowns yet, just an undeniable emptiness in my soul, just the usual pain that comes from my only child having died in my arms. It’s heavy, uncomfortable, rough, but I’m holding myself together at least. I’m feeling the nagging of my conscience too… I worry that I have become a disappointment, a letdown, a nuisance. I sense that from others, or maybe it’s all in my head, I don’t know. It’s just a difficult day, and I hope with all of my heart that next Mother’s Day can be different. I know that no matter what, I will always miss my girl on Mother’s Day (and every day). Right now, I wish with my whole being that this one could have been spent with Lucy in my arms, and that the only issue would have been figuring out how to make sure both of Lucy’s grandma’s would have enough time with our little sweetie. Instead, only this. Only emptiness and heartbreak. I miss her so much.
I have needed some escape lately, so I have been looking for new and interesting things to read. I have lots to choose from on my kindle currently, which is always exciting for a bookworm like me. I’ve been reading Katey Sagal’s Grace Notes: My Recollections over the past few days, and have been really enjoying it. I selected it after reading a little blurb online that mentioned that Katey had a stillborn daughter, Ruby, and that a Buddhist philosophy helped her to make some peace with her tragedy. I was intrigued. I ran across the chapter that discusses this just last night, and I’ve been mulling it over in my mind ever since. It’s the first thing that has made sense to me when it comes to our loss of Lucy, I can relate to so many pieces of it, and it has even managed to bring me some comfort. I’d like to share it here, because it truly has enlightened me. In the chapter/essay titled “Ruby”, Katey writes:
“Where did Ruby go?
Why did she die?
If there really was “no medical reason”… what the fuck happened?
My answer came in Buddhist teachings. I don’t remember which road led me to them. But this is what was explained to me, from a Buddhist perspective. I’m paraphrasing. I’m not a Buddhist, but this made sense:
Her purpose had been fulfilled in the short time she was here.
Which meant that I’d have to believe she was here for a “purpose”.
That we all are.
I believe that.
I don’t know that we always know what that purpose is, but I do believe we all have a destiny to be fulfilled.
So, Buddhisty-speaking, it was explained to me that powerful souls come in and out of this life quickly because their work here is done. They have passed on the lesson they were meant to pass on. Nothing left for them to do. So Ruby completed her mission. With that concept in mind, I asked different questions. I had a shift in perception.
Ruby was fierce. She did so much in her short stay.
She gave me a greater understanding and appreciation for life in general, not to mention the whole childbirth thing. What a fucking miracle that is! That any of us makes it through. She brought her dad and me closer, and I did fall more in love with him.
The lessons I learned by having my heart broken so deeply were exactly, and perfectly, the lesson I needed to learn. And they were, just so, the time and place for me to learn them. My heart broke, and I didn’t fucking die.
It passed.
The school bell rang.
I could breathe again.
Ruby taught me that lesson by leaving so quickly.
She taught me I could hold more than I ever imagined I could.
…
She let me feel my strength.
She confirmed my faith in something greater than myself.
…
Ruby was done. Her highest purpose– some of which I can name, most of which I’ll never know– was fulfilled.”
(Katey Sagal, Grace Notes: My Recollections, 2017)
I cried reading those passages. Finally- something I can understand and get behind. I am stunned by how much sense it makes to me, and there’s so much comfort in that. I read those passages to Chris, and it’s been sticking in his thoughts as well. Her beautiful little soul was powerful and she got her work done quickly. Perhaps Lucy’s purpose has been fulfilled. Pondering this concept, I too can ask different questions. Instead of “WHY?”, I can instead seek to find out what her purpose here was. She has brought Chris and me closer together, and I have fallen more in love with him… she has also taught me some deeply intense and valuable lessons about life, and my outlook on it is forever altered. Maybe she has steered the course of my path, my soul, my purpose, toward it’s intended destination.
Losing that beautiful baby has absolutely broken my heart (and me); it’s been the single most painful experience of my life. It’s shaken me to the core, and I am picking up the shattered pieces and am trying so hard to mend them. I am different than I was, and I’ll never be that person again. Could that have been a small part of Lucy’s purpose, to point me more clearly in the direction of my own purpose? I may never know. I do know though that any good I put into the world is now to honor my daughter and that I want to do more good to continue bringing more of her light to the world. Perhaps that will impact the paths of others, not just mine.
As I sit here now on this sad Mother’s Day, I am doing my best to embrace my brokenness, find my strength, and look ahead. There is so much beauty in the idea of not only searching for signs of Lucy as I have done each day, but also for evidence in my own life of her soul’s purpose. It may be a very long time before I can truly know or understand any of it, but I do know that I am finally grateful for the continuance of my life after the loss of Lucy. It still hurts terribly to remain in the ‘after’, but I believe that Lucy wants me to continue, and because of the powerful love I have for her, I will. One step at a time.