{"id":379656,"date":"2012-09-06T02:29:00","date_gmt":"2012-09-06T02:29:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/2012\/09\/06\/digging-for-the-light-excerpt-1\/"},"modified":"2012-09-06T02:29:00","modified_gmt":"2012-09-06T02:29:00","slug":"digging-for-the-light-excerpt-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/2012\/09\/06\/digging-for-the-light-excerpt-1\/","title":{"rendered":"Digging for the Light, Excerpt 1"},"content":{"rendered":"
My last post was <\/span>about hummingbirds<\/span><\/a> and was included in the <\/span>Happy Happens<\/span><\/a>segment of this blog.<\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span>
<\/span>The following excerpt relates to the day after my Gavin\u2019s first birthday, my second Mother\u2019s Day.<\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/span>* * *<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span> <\/div>\n

<\/span>The date was Sunday, May 12, 1991.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>Mother\u2019s Day.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

<\/span>I spent that day, the one that should have been my second Mother\u2019s Day, weeping.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
Over a cardboard box. <\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
I was a mother.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
Without a baby.<\/span><\/i><\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span>
You are not alone<\/span>.<\/o:p><\/em><\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span>
I was a pregnant woman who feared she might be destined to live her life without children of her own.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
Spring had arrived.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
The orchard was beginning to bloom. Soon the delicate white petals would open, inviting the worker bees, whose job it was to care for their queen, and the butterflies, whose effortless flight mesmerize and inspire young children.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
The birds had returned to their nests, while my hummingbirds frantically searched the feeders that in previous years I had filled with sweet, homemade, nectar.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
I should fill the feeders, I thought<\/span><\/i>.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span>
Instead, I sat glued to the floor, my fingers gently hovering millimeters above the pictures of my son.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
I couldn\u2019t really touch them for fear my touch would eventually destroy the only part of him I had left.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
My father called that day. He wanted me to call my grandmother and wish her a happy Mother\u2019s Day. She really needs us right now, he seemed to be saying.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
Never, never, had he called me and asked that I call her, let alone on Mother\u2019s Day!<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
She\u2019s not my mother. She\u2019s yours. You call her! I thought<\/span><\/i>. <\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span>
What about me, Dad?<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span>
Don\u2019t you have anything to say to me?<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span>
I\u2019m a mother, too…<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span>
It\u2019s just that my son is <\/span>dead!<\/span><\/o:p><\/em><\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span>
And though I was furious with my father, shouting the recap at<\/span> my husband (as if he were to blame), I didn\u2019t say any of this to Dad.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
For deep down inside, in this perpetual school of life, I still questioned whether or not I belonged in that classroom\u2014the Art of Mothers and Motherhood. <\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
That Mother\u2019s Day, I stood towering over my child as most parents do, wanting and waiting for the arms to grasp me around the knees and topple me to the ground with laughter.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
I didn\u2019t hear the laughter, and the arms never grabbed me.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
But my phrase, \u201cWe\u2019re only a heartbeat away,\u201d did<\/span><\/i>.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span>
Someday, Gavin, someday we\u2019ll be together.<\/i><\/span><\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span>
<\/span>
I tried to find comfort in the etching of the little boy holding the lamb, the one my husband had so carefully picked out as he tried to decipher what our son\u2019s entire life would represent\u2014the day he\u2019d picked out the headstone.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i>
<\/span>
You are not alone<\/span><\/i>.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>* * *<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
<\/span>All rights reserved. Annah Elizabeth<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
<\/span> <\/div>\n
What parenting experiences did you have? Share a piece of your story and help inspire another…<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Soon…<\/span>\ufeff<\/div>\n
\ufeff<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My last post was about hummingbirds and was included in the Happy Happenssegment of this blog.The following excerpt relates to the day after my Gavin\u2019s first birthday, my second Mother\u2019s Day. * * * The date was Sunday, May 12, 1991. Mother\u2019s Day. I spent that day, the one that should have been my second […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[87,61,36,233,143,19,54,322,323,324,63,69],"class_list":["post-379656","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-child-loss","tag-death","tag-grief","tag-happy-happens","tag-hummingbirds","tag-inspiration","tag-loss-and-healing","tag-mothers-day","tag-motherhood","tag-newborn-death","tag-parenting","tag-the-five-facets"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/379656","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=379656"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/379656\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=379656"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=379656"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=379656"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}