Faint light discovers my buried eyes as I push my sleepy face further into the abyss of my fluffy and delightful pillow. Willing myself to remember sleep for just a little longer, I swiftly squeeze the life from my eyelids, borrowing another moment of peace from the lifeless bed beneath me.
The loud vibrations of my supposedly silent phone brusquely steal me from my moment of self-made heaven, begging the anger of a sleeping bear awakened too early to creep from my belly if only to devour this unwelcomed disruption. My fingers fly to the edge of my covers and throw them from my overly annoyed self, revealing feet that can only bitterly cringe at the touch of air belonging to open space. Boldly jumping from my solace, ready to wreak havoc upon the one who dares to wake me from my slumber, I grab the phone, which is at this very moment betraying me. And just as I prepare to annihilate my foe, I suddenly recall to my mind the wonderful joy of the morning… coffee.
A smile escapes from within and finds my lips, as I smell the aroma of this peace offering. My thumb gently clicks the little green button on my phone, and slowly I introduce it to my ear. Still in my supreme state of happiness, I hear the voice of the one who had indeed dared to awaken me… my mother. Immediately I hear the echo of her voice, and I know she is indeed placing this phone call from the kitchen downstairs. So aware of her victory, she cleverly invites me to join her downstairs, if at all possible, in the next few minutes. How can I refuse?
Ah, the wisdom of a seasoned mother! She knows too well the dangers of a close encounter, so she chose the better way, a phone call. Not only did she avoid the penalties of interference in person, but she also knew the only way to calm my exasperated being was to prey upon my weakness, which is my ardent love of coffee. The timing of even just the aroma could be measured as almost close to perfection.
In awe of what has just occurred, I take the time to ponder my opponent’s strategic thinking, and cannot help but forgive her for her conniving ways. She made me coffee. What else can I ask for?
As I saunter leisurely down the hall towards the stairs, a smirk slowly creeps upon my face. Today was quite the joust. A hushed laugh floats to the ceiling as I think upon what will come later. Today she might have won the battle, but the war has only just begun…
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
The things I write sometimes 1:2- 6/24/09
breathing in the ocean air i feel the ache befall me
what started as just a thought has now become desperate longing
i dig my toes into the sand begging my heart to slow
but just beneath this thin facade the tears threaten to finally flow
biting my lip i plead with my eyes to wait just one day longer
will groans forever wait to overthrow the calm which i borrowed?
the waves dance upon my buried feet wishing they would follow
the wind caresses my porcelain skin willing me away from the shallow
you stand beside my frail frame promising you’ll never stray away
but i miss you
i miss you even as you hold me
even as you speak my name
your voice is the one that i long for
i still miss you
and the ache
it remains.
what started as just a thought has now become desperate longing
i dig my toes into the sand begging my heart to slow
but just beneath this thin facade the tears threaten to finally flow
biting my lip i plead with my eyes to wait just one day longer
will groans forever wait to overthrow the calm which i borrowed?
the waves dance upon my buried feet wishing they would follow
the wind caresses my porcelain skin willing me away from the shallow
you stand beside my frail frame promising you’ll never stray away
but i miss you
i miss you even as you hold me
even as you speak my name
your voice is the one that i long for
i still miss you
and the ache
it remains.
The things I write sometimes 1:1 Sharai- My Setting Free
That morning I awoke to the sound of unremitting fear knocking upon the gate of my sluggish heart... Something was wrong. Hearing the sound of footsteps near my room and watching as the light sang through the cracks around the door, I crept nervously from the choice of disregard. I slowly opened the door to find my aunt despondently introducing her weary feet to each step upon the staircase.
Only my eyes could beg for the answer to the disquiet that wrestled beneath the surface of my skin. The foreboding weight on my heart seemed to apprehend the very breath within my being. Feeling the charge of panic followed by surrendering sorrow, I watched as the tragic words fell so warily from her grief kissed mouth.
“It’s the baby… They- they can’t find the heartbeat.” She whispered softly.
Clutching the banister, I crumbled into her arms and wept.
We had arrived in Charleston, South Carolina, only a few days earlier. It was barely a week before Christmas; but after a month of no work for my father and my brother-in-law, my uncle had graciously stepped in and invited all of us to come down and temporarily work for him for a week or two.
It swiftly became an exciting trip for all of us. The group consisted of my father, Mark; my two younger brothers, Jesse and Josiah; my sister, Hannah (along with the little one in her womb), and her husband, Micah.
Unfortunately my mother, Kathi, and my older brother, Jeremiah, were unable to go with us due to prior engagements. Nonetheless, our joy and excitement for the excursion could not be disenchanted!
After we arrived we immediately began working. The men worked with my uncle and my sister and I worked with my aunt in the quaint shop that she managed downtown.
At that point my sister was already five months along in her pregnancy and the small bump on her stomach seemed to grow larger every day. I couldn’t help but get caught up in what seemed to be such an enchanting time. We were indeed in the most magical season of the year, and the joy of expecting new life held me captive. I was going to be an aunt!
The last five months had been a journey of discovery as each day unfolded a new tier of what was to come. Being the photographer in the family I made sure to document each variation in the beautiful process of Hannah’s pregnancy. This child whom I had yet to truly know was already holding my heart.
I remember the nights when I would just sit with Hannah’s tummy and talk to the little one on the other side of the flesh bound wall. I can recall the first movement that I was excitedly summoned to feel. All of us could hardly contain our elation as we waited with bated breath for this child to arrive. This baby would be the first of many.
It never occurred to me that anything bad would happen. How could it? We wanted this child! There wasn’t a moment that this little one was found wanting! We lavished our love without even the thought that perhaps our hearts might end up broken.
The hours that followed that first moment of sorrow unveiled seemed to be unending. How is it that one day could feel like a lifetime? My uncle, without hesitation, decided to fly my mother in that very day.
After the initial shock and wave of grief, I was driven to the hospital to stand beside my Hannah Day. I took those few minutes in the car to remember that I must remain strong for her. I had to be the pillar that could hold her as she collapsed.
As I walked into the hospital room that had been nominated for her anguish, I overheard the doctor say with great commiseration, “I’m so sorry. I’m afraid you’re too far along… You’re going to have to give birth.” I watched as my grief stricken sister succumbed to yet another wave of tears. Her eyelids had by now become swollen after two hours of this heartrending cycle.
I slowly made my way to her and gently sat down beside her on the bed she had so feebly come to despise only for what it represented. My hands carefully found her colorless face, imprisoned within her trembling hands, and lifted her eyes to meet mine. The eyes that were once filled with the sparkles of life were suddenly hollow and endlessly sad. My heart ached at the sight of her despair; it only took an instant to gather her shaking frame to myself, and rock her just as I remember my mother rocking me as a child. Hannah desperately needed her mommy… I knew I was the only one who could stand in the gap.
With her head pressed against my chest, breathing through her tears, I hardly heard as she drew a ragged breath and faintly whispered,
“I’m going to give birth to a dead baby…”
She wept in my arms until she gradually fell into a deep and troubled sleep.
The rest of the day seemed to be a surreal mixture of numbingly fast, yet excruciatingly slow moments in time. It wasn’t long before my mother arrived at the airport and was swiftly brought to the hospital to comfort her frail daughter. The nurses quietly scurried through the preparations leading up to the impending birth of this fully loved stillborn.
The induced labor steadily invoked painfully small contractions. They relentlessly pounded the surface of our grief like the oceans waves callously hitting the unmoving shoreline. Helpless, we waited.
After hours of waiting for this unnatural birth to begin, the doctor announced that it was time. My mother, my brother-in-law Micah, and I held our breath as our Hannah Day gave birth to the unborn child she had taken such joy in for the past five months. It was done.
The doctor pulled the baby ever so gently from Hannah’s womb and said with tears in her eyes,
“It’s a girl…”
The words seemed to provoke mixed feelings… Hannah and Micah had been hoping for a little girl, but neither had known she would come like this. The doctor tenderly placed her delicate body on a towel and put her on her mother’s chest. Hannah had asked to hold her little girl.
Gathered around her, we once more wept for the child who still held our hearts. We celebrated the five precious months we had with her, and stood firm on the promise that we would one day see her again.
We each took a moment to hold her, and mourn the loss of her. She was beautiful.
Hannah tearfully looked up at her husband and said,
“We’ll name her Sharai. It means, “my setting free”…”
At the moment I can’t say it felt like my setting free. But nothing taught me to hope as disappointment did. Nothing taught me to love as heartbreak did. My teacher was grief and it taught me to endure, to hope against hope.
It’s been over three years since that day. It was a journey that I pray we will never have to venture out upon again.
Today my sister and her husband have two beautiful children. The older of the two is an adorable two-year-old boy named Aridai, and he holds all of our hearts with his little stubborn fingers.
The beautiful ending, or shall I say beginning, is that only 8 months ago Hannah gave birth to another little girl who is now the light of our lives. Her name is Aurora Hadeshalyne, which means, “The dawning of a new day”
Only my eyes could beg for the answer to the disquiet that wrestled beneath the surface of my skin. The foreboding weight on my heart seemed to apprehend the very breath within my being. Feeling the charge of panic followed by surrendering sorrow, I watched as the tragic words fell so warily from her grief kissed mouth.
“It’s the baby… They- they can’t find the heartbeat.” She whispered softly.
Clutching the banister, I crumbled into her arms and wept.
We had arrived in Charleston, South Carolina, only a few days earlier. It was barely a week before Christmas; but after a month of no work for my father and my brother-in-law, my uncle had graciously stepped in and invited all of us to come down and temporarily work for him for a week or two.
It swiftly became an exciting trip for all of us. The group consisted of my father, Mark; my two younger brothers, Jesse and Josiah; my sister, Hannah (along with the little one in her womb), and her husband, Micah.
Unfortunately my mother, Kathi, and my older brother, Jeremiah, were unable to go with us due to prior engagements. Nonetheless, our joy and excitement for the excursion could not be disenchanted!
After we arrived we immediately began working. The men worked with my uncle and my sister and I worked with my aunt in the quaint shop that she managed downtown.
At that point my sister was already five months along in her pregnancy and the small bump on her stomach seemed to grow larger every day. I couldn’t help but get caught up in what seemed to be such an enchanting time. We were indeed in the most magical season of the year, and the joy of expecting new life held me captive. I was going to be an aunt!
The last five months had been a journey of discovery as each day unfolded a new tier of what was to come. Being the photographer in the family I made sure to document each variation in the beautiful process of Hannah’s pregnancy. This child whom I had yet to truly know was already holding my heart.
I remember the nights when I would just sit with Hannah’s tummy and talk to the little one on the other side of the flesh bound wall. I can recall the first movement that I was excitedly summoned to feel. All of us could hardly contain our elation as we waited with bated breath for this child to arrive. This baby would be the first of many.
It never occurred to me that anything bad would happen. How could it? We wanted this child! There wasn’t a moment that this little one was found wanting! We lavished our love without even the thought that perhaps our hearts might end up broken.
The hours that followed that first moment of sorrow unveiled seemed to be unending. How is it that one day could feel like a lifetime? My uncle, without hesitation, decided to fly my mother in that very day.
After the initial shock and wave of grief, I was driven to the hospital to stand beside my Hannah Day. I took those few minutes in the car to remember that I must remain strong for her. I had to be the pillar that could hold her as she collapsed.
As I walked into the hospital room that had been nominated for her anguish, I overheard the doctor say with great commiseration, “I’m so sorry. I’m afraid you’re too far along… You’re going to have to give birth.” I watched as my grief stricken sister succumbed to yet another wave of tears. Her eyelids had by now become swollen after two hours of this heartrending cycle.
I slowly made my way to her and gently sat down beside her on the bed she had so feebly come to despise only for what it represented. My hands carefully found her colorless face, imprisoned within her trembling hands, and lifted her eyes to meet mine. The eyes that were once filled with the sparkles of life were suddenly hollow and endlessly sad. My heart ached at the sight of her despair; it only took an instant to gather her shaking frame to myself, and rock her just as I remember my mother rocking me as a child. Hannah desperately needed her mommy… I knew I was the only one who could stand in the gap.
With her head pressed against my chest, breathing through her tears, I hardly heard as she drew a ragged breath and faintly whispered,
“I’m going to give birth to a dead baby…”
She wept in my arms until she gradually fell into a deep and troubled sleep.
The rest of the day seemed to be a surreal mixture of numbingly fast, yet excruciatingly slow moments in time. It wasn’t long before my mother arrived at the airport and was swiftly brought to the hospital to comfort her frail daughter. The nurses quietly scurried through the preparations leading up to the impending birth of this fully loved stillborn.
The induced labor steadily invoked painfully small contractions. They relentlessly pounded the surface of our grief like the oceans waves callously hitting the unmoving shoreline. Helpless, we waited.
After hours of waiting for this unnatural birth to begin, the doctor announced that it was time. My mother, my brother-in-law Micah, and I held our breath as our Hannah Day gave birth to the unborn child she had taken such joy in for the past five months. It was done.
The doctor pulled the baby ever so gently from Hannah’s womb and said with tears in her eyes,
“It’s a girl…”
The words seemed to provoke mixed feelings… Hannah and Micah had been hoping for a little girl, but neither had known she would come like this. The doctor tenderly placed her delicate body on a towel and put her on her mother’s chest. Hannah had asked to hold her little girl.
Gathered around her, we once more wept for the child who still held our hearts. We celebrated the five precious months we had with her, and stood firm on the promise that we would one day see her again.
We each took a moment to hold her, and mourn the loss of her. She was beautiful.
Hannah tearfully looked up at her husband and said,
“We’ll name her Sharai. It means, “my setting free”…”
At the moment I can’t say it felt like my setting free. But nothing taught me to hope as disappointment did. Nothing taught me to love as heartbreak did. My teacher was grief and it taught me to endure, to hope against hope.
It’s been over three years since that day. It was a journey that I pray we will never have to venture out upon again.
Today my sister and her husband have two beautiful children. The older of the two is an adorable two-year-old boy named Aridai, and he holds all of our hearts with his little stubborn fingers.
The beautiful ending, or shall I say beginning, is that only 8 months ago Hannah gave birth to another little girl who is now the light of our lives. Her name is Aurora Hadeshalyne, which means, “The dawning of a new day”
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