paradox

Not long after we brought newborn Moses home from the hospital Matt left to drive out to Florida where we were going to live for the summer. I stayed at my parents' house with Ava and Moses until we would fly out there to be with Matt. That never ended up happening and Matthew came back to work in  Utah. During those long days and longer nights without Matt I struggled. Sleep deprivation is never easy and my body was still recovering from my very recent miscarriage. More than that I struggled with a mother's grief--not mine, hers; which, in one of the many ways two strangers connected, became mine also. I wrestled with my son's loss and wondered if I could ever be enough to patch up that gaping hole. Every time he cried, I cried with him.  I held him in my bed throughout the night, just as she had not long before. I whispered through tears, words about two mothers and a love it would take him a long time to understand.

Those days were incredibly happy too. I was in love and it was new and joyful. Moses was the snuggliest baby ever and when I held him, he held on back. I was overcome with the enormity of the ways I had been blessed. I was a proud mama of that beautiful boy.

I still tell him about those two mothers, and many times it is still with tears in my eyes. I often think about those same mothers sitting outside a hospital in the sunshine, crying together, right before one got on an airplane alone and one drove home with a baby. Life is never one or the other, it is joy and pain together. Moses experienced loss earlier than most, but he has also known a wholly selfless love. Everyday I hope to be the mother she did so much to give to him.