Thursday, April 5, 2012

going down and coming up

recovering from a virus. slowly. my doctor - an older Chinese woman - diagnosed the cough that was keeping me up at night and did acupuncture on my shoulder. Gave me horrible, bitter tasting herbs, that have helped so much, and i have full mobility of my left shoulder for the first time in months.

celebrated a birthday - i'm 39 now, and my biological clock ticks so loudly sometimes i can't think of anything else. can i handle the stress of pregnancy after babyloss? am i ready for that? my body hands me clues of fertility. i do know that if i did get pregnant i would be beyond overjoyed, but it still may be too soon to try. and i may not be able to get pregnant if we do try.

i spent four glorious days in southern california. sunshine. sunshine. sunshine. four days away from the persistant rain. i sat for hours just looking at the horizon. i laid on the beach and listened, with my fingertips, to the waves crash. i watched the sun set behind the ocean every night. i breathed. i watched bad tv. it was the best thing i've done for myself in a long, long time.

starting to plan nathaniel's one year angel-versary. i must go someplace warm. by the ocean. sunshine. breathing. three and a half months away.

the pains of grief come and go in intensity. sometimes it's still too overwhelming to go out in public. i don't know when that will change, so i am slowly shifting my energy away from the bustle of errands and appointments and into things i can do within the square footage of my house and yard. imagining a life where i don't leave the property for days at a time. perhaps committing to a year of no driving. envisioning domestic projects and activities, both with a new little one, and without.

what i do know, and what startled me, is that i felt whole today. only for a few moments. i didn't want to nag it or question it or push it away. but it was there, in drawing class. not a nathaniel-never-died wholeness, but a new wholeness.

and so i touched hope:)


  1. Suzanne, my friend...
    I love that you touched hope. I love it. Thank you. I need Hope.

  2. Hope what we all look too, reach for, grasp and never let go of.The reason we wake up each day. I am glad that it is giving you moments of wholeness.xo

  3. Happy birthday, Suzanne. I'm pleased to hear that your cough and your shoulder are better. I've thought about trying acupuncture, but I haven't yet--although, I have gotten it in the past for one of my pets!

    It so happens that you were in my neck of the woods, and I'm glad you experienced comfort and healing while here. The natural world has that effect on me as well, and I find the beach, ocean, and waves so soothing. Ironically, though, I've been craving rain, green lushness, and misty environments lately.

    Ahh, wholeness and hope....I wish many lovely things for such a lovely person. :) xo

  4. Happy birthday dear one. I'm so happy to hear that you're finding a new wholeness and that you touched hope.

    Those moments can sometimes carry me for days. I hope yours carries you for a little while too and that there are some more gentle days ahead.

    Much love and light x

  5. It's lovely to have glimmers of hope through the darkness - I'm glad you had that.

    I know what you mean about winding down a bit and staying within your home... My home is my haven, my little teeny tiny piece of this planet that gives me shelter and privacy and respite. Sometimes I love to just retreat from it all for a while and have a few 'home days'. It eases things a little.

  6. I thought I had commented on this post... I came by to say I was thinking of you. I'm sending you love.

  7. Beautiful post. I'm glad for that touch of hope. I like the sound of those days spent in California. And yes, my world has shrunk down too and I'm happier like that I think. Just to stay quietly within my own home and garden, with my small tasks and love, regathering my strength.
    Love to you xo