Last night, I inadvertently did challenge #1 and #2. So, #2 = Watch the moonrise. “It takes some planning,” cautions Elizabeth Dias, who wrote the Times article. “The moon appears on its own schedule.”
That’s true, for sure. We went out to look for the supermoon on Monday night, but alas, despite several checks between 9 and 10, it was too cloudy to see it. But last night I went up to sit on the roof (not scary, we have a deck up there, this is Chicago after all), and we watched the day-after supermoon fade in and out of the cloud cover while lightning flashed around the city (here’s an amazingly awesome picture my friend took, obviously not at the same time of day!)
So I sat, and watched, and tried to breath in the nighttime. Tried to feel safe and secure in the darkness, and sense the world around me. At the same time, I thought of Ander. I remembered the smell of him, not new baby, but warm athletic tape (if you’ve seen a NICU baby, you know why, and you know this smell). I remembered the feel of him, how after his tubes were removed I could hoist him higher on my chest and nuzzle the underneath of my chin against his fuzzy blond hair. (See his amazing blond hair? Don’t you want to nuzzle it too?)
I remembered being there, right there, the moment he first opened his eyes to the world. And there, right there, the moment he closed them forever.
All this remembering was painful, but it wasn’t as bad as I feared. It didn’t feel like wallowing. It felt like remembering. So, I remembered, and sat in the (relative; light pollution) dark and watched the moonrise.
“Nothing reminds me that I am an earthling like seeing the full moon,” says Barbara Brown Taylor. Your challenge for tonight: watch the moon, whether you catch its rise or not. And remember that you are not alone. There are millions of other earthlings watching the same moon, at the same moment (see CarlyMarie’s Facebook page if you don’t believe me!). Remember, too, that you are not alone in your journey of babyloss. Around the world, for thousands of different reasons, other mothers (and fathers) are mourning the losses of their babies, too.
Look at the moon and remember – how small we are, yet how big.