Capture Your Grief – Day 1. Sunrise Blessing.

1. SUNRISE BLESSING | Rise early to see the sunrise. Step outside into the fresh air and take some time to breathe the sunrise in. Watch all of the colours of your world transform before your eyes. Spend some time reflecting upon what you want you want to cultivate this month. If there is no visible sunrise in your part of the world because of the weather, that is okay, this is life and mother nature. All that matters is that you take the time out of your day to be with us all in spirit and make space for a new beginning. Take a photograph of your sunrise where you are right now and if you post it online share what State/Country you are in and the time of the sunrise. You can google the sunrise time in your part of the world and set your alarm if you are a sleepy head like me. Send some love out to everyone else in the world who is grieving the death of a child and remember those gone before us who were made to grieve in silence. We honour these people too. Take a deep breath. This sunrise is a symbol of a new beginning. A new month. A new time. A new grief. A new love. A new meaning.

I’m not a morning person.  I didn’t wake up to see this morning’s sunrise.  But I did wake up early for me, for a weekend.  10 AM to be exact.  The same happened yesterday. The windows were open from the night before, the birds singing their morning song outside my window and my heart attuned to the cool, fresh air making its way into my bedroom.

Unlike the heat of summer, the breeze of fall re-energizes me.  A new month, as Carly shares.  A new time.  A new beginning  A new love.  A new meaning.  A new grief.

This coming week marks 15 weeks of carrying a new life inside me.  A baby.  I’ve kept my commitment to writing at bay.  There’s something about giving voice to this pregnancy that feels so hard for me.

Mostly because over the last two and a half years, I’ve transformed into someone else.  Her.  A woman of grief.  Deep grief.  A woman yearning for her baby.  A woman yearning to carry life.  A strong yet broken me.

I’m caught somewhere in between now.  I’m pregnant and peacefully so.  I feel much more content this time around.  I shared with my Mom that this is my baby.  For however long my body will allow.  But my heart, it’s caught somewhere in between.  I don’t recognize myself as a mother once again pregnant after the loss of my Sam.  I know I no longer fit on the shrinking island of wanting to be pregnant after the loss of my Sam.  But most days, my heart still resides there.  With the women who know the hardest hurts, having held their dead child, giving them away and left still with empty arms.

It’s a new time for me.  A new grief.  And I’m adventurous enough to say, I think it’s okay.  It’s okay to be entangled in between.  Residing in the unknown.  I’m grateful for this time of exploration.  I honor Sam no less by mothering a new pregnancy.  And as sure as the sun will rise, I understand how quickly I could completely be her again.

I’m reading Henry David Thoreau’s Walden and in it he shares, “A change is a miracle to contemplate; but it is a miracle which is taking place every instant.”