My family, my blog and I

Bianca was 4 months old 2 days ago. She is amazing and we are ready to spend our first Christmas together.
I'm getting back on my feet too. A friend of mine told me something very interesting the other day. She told me I spent so much time being me and Jacopo or/and me and Bianca which I have forgotten about being me. I don't know who I am anymore and I don't know if I have any interest left apart for baby related stuff. I don't like this but I am also mentally exhausted and I find being a mum quite relaxing. In time I will be me again maybe.

Now: what to do with this blog? This blog was a place for me and my family but it was created in memory of Jacopo. Now Bianca keeps me very well attached to reality whereas Jacopo lives in my heart. I have much less time for myself and much more baby stories to tell. Besides being an angel mum brings a number of issues when it comes to earth motherhood. And a number of thoughts. I'm not sure if this is the right place for sharing, but I guess I'll start in the new year.

For now, happy (or as happy as possible) Christmas to everyone who bothered and bothers to read me.

11.11.11

The 11.11.11 at 11.11 Bianca was doing a massive poo on her changing table. Without nappy on. That of course happened thanks to the peculiar flow of energies...

Later today I was considering what I wrote yesterday about letting the rose go. I guess it has been more than a material object, it has been like letting him definitely go. This is the hardest part of being a parent I believe, at some point we need to let them go when they are ready to follow their way alone. Sky or earth, does it really matter?

The rose

There was a white dried rose in my wardrobe. It's been there for over a year and it was one of the roses of Jacopo's funeral flowers. It would have been in my wardrobe forever and year after year I would've seen it  fade.
John and I decided to give the River the rose instead. We wanted to let the last material object go. Now I have nothing else than my memories. My boy lives only in my heart and it is all right.
We didn't plan to do this symbolic act today but I was glad we did, because today last year it was my due date. Jacopo had different plans.
One year has gone and John and I decided that it is today that it feels right to remember our son, not the day he died, not the day he was born asleep but the day which brought us joy, we looked forward for months, we made the countdown for. The day he had to be born.

Bianca and I

Bianca and I started our day very early with some naughty wind which didn't want to come out. Coffee for mummy, milk for Bianca and off we went to the embassy. At lunch time we stopped by Cafe' Rouge next to Harrods where Bianca had her milk and mummy her sausage and mash, carrot cake and cappuccino (breastfeeding makes me quite hungry). Posh people gave us strange looks but most of them were very delighted at the sight of you in your sling. Then mummy had to introduce you at the fabulous world of shoes and brought you at Harrods... Sling and heels (or pram and heels) aren't the best match ever but we can work on it. With the providential sales on, mummy had to buy a cardigan for rapid boob access and a fab babygro but you didn't let her shopping much. Why do you cry in shops and smile outside? which kind of mini woman are you? Then we came back home ready for another meal and some sleep. You gave me a lot of cooing and smiles before falling asleep in your almost outgrown moses basket.

Tomorrow will be very similar to today and the day after tomorrow as well. I hope this is how it's going to be forever. This is how it should have been already. But today there is no space for complaints, sadness, regret. Today is a special normal day for Bianca and I.

CiaoLapo, Thanks

The Ocean took Jacopo and sent Bianca

The day's gone

and I feel I didn't do enough in memory of my boy. We spent the day among us, bringing Bianca out of London for the very first time. I thought about him all day. Memories came back more painful than ever. Bianca kept me busy enough. My imagining's been overwhelming sometimes. I also found the time to cry a bit, not much, maybe not enough.
I wanted to do something very special but I haven't even had the time to light a little candle and now that the day has gone I feel guilty.
What kind of mother am I? no answers, no emotions at the moment. I'm only an empty bowl which just wants to sleep and dream of a pain free world.

Memories

Today one year ago my lovely boy died in my womb maybe in my sleep. I did not realise until later in the afternoon he wasn't moving. This memory still kills me after 365 days.
Jacopo was then born after 3 days, peaceful, perfect and beautiful.
I remember every single second of that awful night. Words and emotions that sound out loud.
Now that Bianca is here, everyone is so excited with her that just forgot Jacopo or at least this is my impression. It hurts badly .
I just want him to be remembered.

Being a parent after loss

put everything in perspective. I'm so happy pregnancy is over that I of course did not have any baby blue, I'm not worried about sleepless nights, dirty nappies, daily laundries and breastfeeding issues.
Whatever happens now on is for sure better than a funeral.
The worst is over! (for a while at least)

Hiccups

The most beautiful sound I've ever heard in my life

Io, le rivolte e i disastri naturali

Ero in Peru' nel 2000 quando Lima era sotto assedio per l'elezione di Fujimori, in Nepal nel 2001-2002 quando i maoisti erano in rivolta e c'era il coprifuoco (meta cambiata perche' originariamente dovevo andare in Egitto, ma date le torri gemelli mi sembrava saggio evitare paesi arabi), nel 2004 vado in Birmania e a fine 2004 lo tsunami distrugge la Birmania. nel 2005 parto per il Brasile e un brasiliano viene ammazzato durante i disordini di Londra: allerta in Brasile per possibili rivolte. Vado in Thailandia nel 2006 dove notoriamente non succedeva una sega da decenni e esplodono un paio di bombe a Bangkok il giorno prima.  Dopo qualche anno di tregua quest'inverno scampo per un pelo l'inondazione in Australia e ora che devo andare a partorire (dopodomani), Londra e' messa a ferro e fuoco dai rivoltosi che stanno saccheggiando i supermercati.

Mi sento un po' la signora Fletcher...

35 weeks

And bloody scared. It's 5am and I'm awoke since 4 am or so, unable to sleep and praying for more and more movements. We are in our new home, which is still a mess but we managed to have a nice bedroom and a very comfy bed. I can hear the stream of the water and the birds. But I just can't sleep. I can't help but thinking that today last time Jacopo was already struggling inside me while I was having unaware sleeps and dreams. If he tried to make me understand he wasn't all right, I did not get it and this is something very hard to be over. I pray that Bianca will make me understand, I pray that she is fine in there. I want these last days to fly by.

John sleeps as a little baby next to me, god bless him and again I can't help but look at him and see my boy who had his nose and his beautiful black hair and I wonder if he can see me here, typing my thoughts at dawn, crying my eyes out and hoping that his little sister will arrive safe into this big world, maybe black haired like he was, to bring us joy and hope and to fill up a little bit that deep black hole which I have in my heart for almost one year.

Always loved never forgotten!

11 August

That's gonna be the booked day of induction. How do I feel? That's a really good question: I have no idea. Numb, emotionless, neutral.
She has dropped down, I felt her all day long, my consultant visited me and assured me that everything is looking good and I still live as if I'd walk on the cliff edge. Everyday I wake up waiting for a tragedy to happen.

I have to say that this odd situation has its bright side: everyday when I realise the tragedy hasn't happened I feel blessed and my never-ending joy is renewed over and over again.

11 August... 3 weeks to go. Could the Gods look after us, for once!

Is this your first baby?

- No, it's my second.
- How wonderful. And how old is your first one?
- He died

Frozen air.

I'm going through this on a daily basis. The first time it happened I was shocked and I lied. The second time I replied that yes, it was my first and mentally apologised to Jacopo. But then I felt so guilty that I swore it was never gonna happen again. Since the third time my standard reply is reported on top of this page. How kindly I deliver the concept that Jacopo left us depends on a few factors:
- if I'm in a good or bad mood
- if the person asking is a perfect stranger or not
- if the person asking asks during a conversation or throw out the question thinking that it's all right to mind my own business just because I'm pregnant.

Whichever is the way I explain that Jacopo did die, I feel 1000 times better this way than denying my son for the sake of people. I'm sorry if it's not the answer they expect, I'm sorry if this is shocking, incredible, terribly sad. I'm sorry if they feel uncomfortable, it is really not my problem. Finally I reckon it's about time that people get to understand that a dead child is still a child, and so, no, this isn't my first baby, and yes, I have a son who died. And, more importantly, NO, I won't forget my son JUST BECAUSE now I'm carrying a daughter. This is a very inaccurate assumption.

End of line.

Repainting our new home

We spent the whole day repainting our new home. I repainted as well, slowly and with frequent stops, but I did my part in the building up of our place. We made our bedroom and the nursery and pieces here and there of the other rooms. Later in the afternoon I sat down exhausted in my small terrace watching at the parrots on the tree in front of me. I thought that Bianca will love them, green and yellow, noisy and happy. I also heard many low flying planes on their way to Heathrow and I thought that Jacopo would have love them as any other little boy loves planes and trains. And again another moment of "will" and "would have" and again I felt happy and sad and in the middle of nowhere and so tired of not being able to say "is".

I hate pregnancy

It's a necessary evil, I know, because hopefully it will lead me to fulfill my dream to be a earth mum but nothing at all changed since last time. Pregnancy is a pain in the arse, makes you feel uncomfortable, makes you lose control of your body and makes too many people mind to your own business.
I see nothing attractive in being a huge whale which barely moves.
I want my baby here now and my functioning body back.

Bianca

Come l'insieme dei colori dell'arcobaleno
Come la spuma delle onde dell'oceano
Come un raggio di sole che penetra le nuvole
Come un foglio che deve essere scritto con parole d'amore
Come una tela che verra' riempita delle immagini piu' belle.

9 months ago

and 2 months to go. Where am I? Everything feels so unreal. Jacopo has never been, Bianca will never be. Do I exist?
Jacopo was born 9 months ago and he was real even if all I have is a picture on my wall and him forever in my heart. Bianca is supposed to be born in 2 months and she is kicking, so she should be real as well. Why do I feel so confused and scared and numb and confused again?
Bianca please, come, hold my hand and bring me back to earth. Jacopo please, keep and eye on us all and don't let anything bad happen. Love you both, little children. Mum

I'm listening

I feel you growing. I can feel you are getting stronger. Don't give up my love. I don't trust my body but I trust you. You'll let me know if something is wrong, if you don't get enough from me and if you are not fine. I'm listening, any second of my day, any single heartbeat of my heart which rings with yours, just a bit slower.

Nesting

I made the bags: one for me one for you. Yours isn't ready yet, I'm waiting for the 'tiny baby' stuff still but everything else is clean and ready. Are you gonna let me use it, this time around? Are you gonna give me the chance to show you what kind of gorgeous mum you have? I'm typing, you're kicking, this sounds familiar.
Now it's time to move towards unfamiliar scenarios, where you cry and drive me crazy and I lack of sleep.
Not long to go, but it feels forever. No long though. Keep growing up steadily, keep kicking and rolling and please... come on earth and home with me.

To my little lady

If you'll ever arrive safe on this earth, we will walk its roads together, hand in hand. You'll learn the beauty of flowers, the feeling of the sun on the skin and the sea on your feet. You'll see the seagulls and the gooses on the riverside in front of home and you'll touch the grass, the leafs and the cherries from the tree. We will visit cities and lands, we will fly over oceans and rest on green fields and we will love each other so much that we can barely bear.
And we will find a confortable place together, where we will go every time we want to stay with you angel brother.
Please my sweet little lady, come home with mum and dad, come home and grow up and be our gift, our rainbow after the storm, our hope, our second special child.

Correvi...

...libero con il tuo scooter, con la tua testolina lucente di capelli neri. E mi dicevi 'mamma, guarda come vado veloce!' Poi sparivi nella luce e io tornavo alla realta'.

Redecoration

I had a make over for the first time since Sept,15th. Isn't it a historic day?
As I'm not doing very well at the moment, I took the day off and went to Oxford. I was wandering here and there and I remembered I had a free make over session to redeem and so I did. It was weird to look myself in the mirror with mascara and eye shadow after so many months, but somehow it felt a bit better. Maybe a hairstyle tomorrow helps me out to go through another day.

Tough spring days

I'm not doing particularly well lately. Yesterday it was just one of those days. We met someone who had a son a few months before I had Jacopo. No need to highlight that baby lived and he's a nice and smily 11 months old. Pain shot me down. All these babies that grow up around me, become children, learn how to walk, talk, be little people. All these babies except mine. I know it isn't just mine, but seriously sometimes I feel the only black sheep surrounded by happy families. I'm not sure for how long I'll be able to hold together.

Remembrance day

Yesterday it was the day of Remembrance at my hospital. I went to the service and sit down in the same room where I had my antenatal classes. Last time I stepped in there we were talking about breastfeeding a week before Jacopo's death. 

We read some poems, we listened to music, they sang a song and we lit  some candles.

I cried and cried, as I haven's done in months, silently, tears after tears until I had swollen eyes and dry skin. And it didn't stop for hours. It hasn't stopped yet, to be honest.

After days of new weird normal, other thoughts and worries, other tasks to focused on and concerns to think of, the grief came back as a thunderstorm with heavy rain and lightening. Apparently Jacopo needs his space, needs his mother's full attention, needs me completely focused on him. And he will have me, just for him, sometimes.

In our new home, I want to find a quite corner close to the River and I want it to be dedicated to my son. A place where I can go and grieve and cry and smile and bring a flower or lit a candle. A place close to me where I can bring my children and teach them that death is part of life, it doesn't have to be denied because the memories of who we loved will be with us until our own death and they claim space in our lives. Even just a day or two per year of full dedicated attention. 

Another mother day

For me one has been enough for this year but THIS is a great post dedicated to all the Unseen Mothers.

Sun in Cornwall

After a week in the wild (or so) I do feel lighter. The healing power of the Ocean is impressive. I had this conversation with an Australian friend a while ago and we both agreed we need the sound of the sea once in a while. I'm planning to get it quite often now on. We enjoyed the camping as well, two people, a tend and a car and a lot of nice fish. Tomorrow we are back in the routine, but maybe the light and the sun can help me out to go through it a bit better. We shall see what we shall see...

Another 18

Sometimes it's just too hard. It seems more difficult now with the good weather than a while ago. Maybe I had just pictured myself with Jacopo in a park and not alone following the same routine of one year ago. Routine which is tasteless. I feel stuck, repeating myself over and over again in a blind circle. These were supposed to be the last weeks of my maternity leave and every day that goes feels really heavy. I bought some new clothes for myself when I'd have had to buy new stuff for my growing son.  I had some sushi for dinner, alone at home, when I'd have had a 7 months old to wean. Every action reminds me where I am and where I should be and this place of mind isn't fun. I'm prepared to feel incomplete for the rest of my life and this is a kind of fair enough. It's this continuos parallelism of the real world and the one I had imagined that's slowly killing me. My mind can't rethink anything but me and John with Jacopo in a park with the sun and the gooses and the wind. A beautiful world which I'll never have.

Camber sands

Me again in front of the Ocean. I felt all right, with the sun warming my skin and the cold water lapping my feet. Then as often happens, I felt sad again. Jacopo should be with us, with his little feet in the water, enjoying for the first time in his little life the strength of the sea. Maybe he was there in the shape he always is. It's in the happiest and most beautiful moments that grief hurts more. Strange, isn't it? I'm kind of getting used to this sensation and it's not excruciating anymore, it's just there, always, in good as in bad days. So I was watching at the Ocean lost in my own thoughts when something very strong came from the inside and I felt hope and an undertone of joy and the breath of life to fight the death.

Thanks my Ladies, thanks. Maybe those white roses have reached the outlet of the River after all. I'll keep trying, I will.

I did it!

Long and hard day, but eventually worth the effort. Now I can retire.

Why am I putting myself through this additional stress is a question which doesn't get any answer. It's my fault, I overdid, I seriously overestimated my psychological stability and now all I can think about is: I can't make it.
But I have no choice
But I can't make it
But I have no choice

This loop of thoughts is giving me a headache.
I just want to fall asleep and wake up in the summer.
I have the mind numb, no concentration, no entusiasm, no self confidence and basically I just don't want to do it.

But I have no choice.
Shit.

Angel mother day

No cards, no flowers, no noise in the house, no special lunch, no expectations. A day like many others, outwardly. Inside, the hole is a bit deeper today than it was in a long time and the scar bleeds again. It's like having a thorn in my heart. It's there as a part of me. It doesn't hurt much until something suddenly makes it move and it pricks and I cry.

Nowhere

In between my past and my future, in a land I don't like and I'm not able to appreciate.

Spring?

I've been quiet for quite a while and not because I have nothing to say. Maybe there are subtitle emotions I'm not able to put in writing or maybe I'd just need to write them down in my mother tongue. It's been 6 months last week and I realised it while I was in a sunny square with someone I really love. I felt sad and happy and sad at the same time. It wasn't supposed to be this way, no, but we need to go on. Not to move on but to go on, me and who is with me in this very moment, in the hope that my gorgeous boy watches over us.
I've been overpowered after those days by a sense of unreality. What's my motherhood? does it all come down to the washing and ironing of little clothes? has it ever been real? will it ever be? All these questions dance in my mind and I feel immensely exhausted, like someone who already jumped too many hurdles and has so many in front of that she doesn't even begin to count.

What makes a mother

Not mine, I couldn't write a poem about God, but it's lovely.


I thought of you and closed my eyes
And prayed to God today
I asked "What makes a Mother?"
And I know I heard Him say.

"A Mother has a baby"
This we know is true
"But God can you be a Mother,
when your baby's not with you?"

"Yes, you can," He replied
With confidence in His voice
"I give many women babies,
When they leave is not their choice.

Some I send for a lifetime,
And others for the day
And some I send to feel your womb,
But there's no need to stay."

"I just don't understand this God
I want my baby to be here."
He took a deep breath and cleared His throat,
And then I saw the tear.

"I wish I could show you,
What your child is doing today.
If you could see your child's smile,
With all the other children and say..."

We go to earth to learn our lessons,
Of love and life and fear,
My mummy loved me oh so much,
I got to come straight here.

I feel so lucky to have a Mum,
Who had so much love for me
I learned my lessons very quickly
My mummy set me free.

I miss my mummy oh so much
But I visit her every day.
When she goes to sleep,
On her pillows were I lay

I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,
And whisper in her ear
Mummy don't be sad today,
I'm your baby and I'm here."

"So you see my dear sweet ones,
Your children are okay.
Your babies are born here in My home
And this is where they'll stay."

"They'll wait for you with Me,
Until your lessons through.
And on the day that you come home
they'll be at the gates for you.

So now you see what makes a Mother,
It's the feeling in your heart
It's the love you had so much of
Right from the very start.

Though some on earth may not realize
You are a mother.
Until their time is done.
They'll be up here with Me one day
and know that you are the best one.


Unknown author

Overwhelmed

Too many things all together are happening and I feel a bit overwhelmed. Maybe in a good way, but still overwhelmed. I'm wondering if I will ever have an uneventful life. Maybe I have to look forward to my second 40 years. By now, I'll go with the flow of energy and breath.

Life

A new life starts the day of conception. Short or long, few weeks or an hundred years it doesn't matter, it deserves to be celebrated ever since.

Now

There is something about living in the present that I'm starting to learn.
Life is too short for double thoughts and delays. So we are buying a flat, our first (I'm afraid of many) home. As owners of course, because the flat where I'm right now feels very much like home and I love it.
We are buying a flat even if we are pretty sure we're going to move in no more than 3 years time. We need to sort sort out the final formalities and we hope the deal will be concluded next week or so.
It's a fresh start and it feels very good.
There is something about living in the present without being afraid of too many ifs and buts that gives a burst of energy. We leant we don't know what's going to happen tomorrow the hardest way. I knew already, tho. Now the good news is: I'm not afraid anymore. F**k the fears, the potential problems, the unknown of tomorrow. If (that's the only "if" allowed) something's going wrong, we'll cross that bridge!

Misunderstanding

I don't understand.
I'm browsing the web these days, following the links and the links on the links on the blogs I find interesting. Often, on the topic of perinatal losses, I realised many websites and blogs stress the fact that angel parents don't have to feel ashamed and have to shout the grief out loud. I agree on the shouting because it's cathartic for us and maybe helps other people in our shoes if we share how we feel. Maybe, even friends and families find useful to read how it feels to lose a baby, so they can better help their loved ones.
But shame... I just don't get it. I had a full range of feelings from deep despair to blind anger but I never and ever felt ashamed that Jacopo didn't come home with me. Very pissed off, indeed. Shame implies the admission of a guilt, like we deserved to be punished (by who, who knows). I think the other way round, instead. We didn't deserve to have to go through this hell and so, in case, it isn't us who should be ashamed.

No gas

I have no energy.
Everything is like climbing a mountain and I wish to get asleep now and awake in the summer. Like the bear I've become!

5 Months

and I miss you very much, baby boy. Tears are less frequent now and days are less painful. Anger is almost gone and life has taken a sort of new undertone routine. I can laugh sometimes. I have days when I can also concentrate at work and make the job done.
But if I should define how I feel, probably one word is enough: empty. I feel almost nothing, I'm not interested. I just miss my boy and I know that I'm not where I'd like to be, again. I don't feel chatty and it's like I'm living inside me most of the time. Sometimes it's strange, some other times I guess it's like I became, after all I've gone through. Or maybe at the moment there isn't space for much more than survival, still.

10 sentences very likely to annoy a bereavement mum

What's written below is particularly true in early days and weeks, then a bit it subsides.


How are you?
How the hell do you think I am? Pretty shit thanks. I know it's your way to start a conversation but, really, can't we talk about the weather? Do you really want me to struggle in a superfake and polite 'fine'?

It will ease in time
Of course it will, everyone knows it but I swear in this precise moment 'time' is pretty far away and right now I just want to kill myself so it doesn't help that you remind me that maybe in 3 years time I'll be better. 3 years have to pass and in the meantime I'll be pretty shit. Thanks again.

Those are things that happen. You need to accept it.
Yes, sure! easy to say when it happens to someone else. I can't stand the fatalistic attitude coming from people who had a bloody easy life.

It's God's plan.
WTF... couldn't God have had plans for someone else?

Anger is a bad feeling and it damages yourself.
You know what, just shut the f* up. My baby died for no reason and all my hopes and plans and dreams died with him and I'm not even allowed to be bloody pissed off? And what's for? If you want to play at Our Immaculate Lady, go and play with someone else.

It's not her fault (referred to someone else who had a perfect pregnancy, straightforward labour and perfectly healthy baby and you don't want to know anything about)
Of course it isn't, but do you really need to point out how successful she was and what a bloody failure I WAS? I retain to stub any single pregnant woman and any single baby on my way home every day and it costs a lot of efforts, so please, leave me alone.

You need to move on.
No, darling, I don't need to move on, you need to stop missing the point. A son isn't something we need to move on from, it's something which is part of your life FOREVER, even if he is dead.


They are fine (referred to someone else still pregnant who knew your amazing news and was understandably shocked)
Good for them, I don't give a shit!

Are you back at work?
I know that you really want me to be back to normal and work is part of 'normal' but really, I'm not so into career at the moment.

Golden one: Take it easy, stay calm, don't rush, it isn't a competition (when you say that you want another baby).
Oh yes, it is. It is a competition with the f*ing destiny. It took my baby away, I'll make other 5 to get revenge. And I'll start tonight, for God sake. I don't give a shit about what doctors, midwives, obstetricians, GPs, consultants, whoever say. I'm gonna produce another baby immediately and then one per year until menopause. And we'll see who wins eventually, eh, life?

Valentine day

I've never bothered with Valentine day, not even when a was a little girl. It always sounded to me like a very fake and consumer festivity when fake happy couples just have bad food in restaurants full of heart-shaped ballons.
Last year, however, it was different. It was the day I found out I was pregnant. A very special gift to my very special John who ended up in shock for a week or two. We weren't really trying, we thought it would have taken ages, and in two cycles, there we were, two pink lines.
The beginning was funny, the end a bit less, but Valentine day for me will always have a special meaning, now on.

I bought to John eight red roses and two white ones. All my love, a storm and a rainbow.

Jacopo and I

Here is my boy, Jacopo Calabrese, born still on Sep, 18th 2010 at 16:23. 2.38 Kg. My forehead, my lips, John's nose and hair.

And this is my story. Very common. Uneventful pregnancy, everything text book, kicks and punches and one day (Sep, 15th) suddenly, nothing. He was gone sometimes when I was busy at work in a rush to finish all my job before my maternity leave.

This is not what I want to remember. I wish to be able to forget that scan, that room, those words, those expressions depicted on doctors' and midwives' faces. And that tear, just one, which silently streamed down John's face.

But, and this is hard to anyone else to understand, there are things I want to remember. I want to remember all the care I had in the delivery suite from four wonderful midwives who spent their shifts in my room. I want to remember how much love John was able to give me just sitting on that chair and holding my hand. I want to remember the moment I delivered and the care the midwife took to wash and wrap Jacopo before we could see him. And the feeling of neverending love I had when I held him. And John's expression when for the first time in his life, he held a baby in his arms, his own baby as he always had said. Moments, seconds, flashes of crazy happiness in the darkness. The labour was beautiful. We made a beautiful and perfect boy. 

Just a dream?

I dreamt of you, little boy, tonight. But it wasn't the same sad dream with the usual even more sad wake-up. I dreamt that you were coming back. You had been with my aunt and my oncle for all these months and they had taken good care of you. But now it was time for you to come back home, with mum and dad. And John and I were finding your old stuff, to get ready for your return.
I awoke and suddenly realised it was just a dream but this time I didn't fell sad, I felt quite OK, quite serene, quite full of hope.
My boy is coming back, in a shape or in another. He left, he found the place he had to and now he'll be here with us, forever.

Another journey

We'll be happier here, Jacopo, you and I.

Sharing a poem

The Sheikh who lost two sons

A great sheikh has lost two sons, yet he is not weeping. His family
and his wife wonder at this lack of grief.

"Do not think that I am cold and uncompassionate. 

I don't weep because for me they are not gone. 

The eye of my heart sees them distinctly. 

They're outside of time but very close by here playing and coming to hug me. 

As people sometimes see dead relatives in dream, 

I see my sons constantly in this waking state. 

I am even more deeply with them when I hide for a moment from the world, 

when I let the sense-perception leaves drop from the tree of my being. 

I weep for those who have ungrateful souls. 

I weep when boys throw stones at dogs. 

I weep for dogs who bite for no reason. 

Forgive the harm that anyone does. 

We are here to be a forgiveness door through which freedom comes. 

I weep when I ask that the door not be shut."

Some attend to individual mercies and some to universal Grace. 

Try to let them merge. Pond water eventually arrives at the ocean.
One saint works and lingers in the lakes of personal life. 

Another plays without limits in the sea.
Whatever gives pleasure is the fragrance of the Friend. 

Whatever makes us wonder comes from that light. 

What's inside the ground begins to sprout because you spilled wine there. 

What dies in autumn comes up in spring because this way of saying no 

becomes in spring your praise song yes.

(From The Soul of Rumi. Translated by C. Barks)

Rainbow babies

Babies born to families after the loss of a child are referred to as “Rainbow Babies” The idea is that the baby is like a rainbow after a storm. “Rainbow Babies” is the understanding that the beauty of a rainbow does not negate the ravages of the storm. When a rainbow appears, it doesn’t mean the storm never happened or that the family is not still dealing with its aftermath. What it means is that something beautiful and full of light has appeared in the midst of the darkness and clouds. Storm clouds may still hover but the rainbow provides a counter balance of colour, energy and hope.

Un cuore che batte

Un cuoricino che batte scaccia il ricordo di uno che non batte più?

La risposta è no. Stesa su quel lettino, ieri, ho avuto un momento di terribile panico e poi uno di terribile gioia quando Ed ha detto ‘Oh, that’s good news’. 

il suono di quelle parole non e’ riuscito a cancellare quello della dottoressa vichinga ‘I’m so sorry, your baby is no longer alive’.

Pero’ un cuore che batte e due braccina e due gambine che si muovono lascia almeno un cuore colmo di speranza. E il mio che batteva all’impazzata si e’ un po’ calmato. Non so quanto durera’ la sensazione, sembra che stia gia’ sparendo, ma almeno dovro’ trovare altri motivi per agitarmi perche’ no non e’ una gravidanza extrauterina, no per adesso non e’ un missed miscarriage e magari se non vedo sangue posso indulgere nel credere che il cuoricino di questa cellulina battera’ anche la settimana prossima.

Passera’ il primo trimestre.

Passera’ anche il secondo e anche il terzo.

Ci DEVO CREDERE

Cellulina verra’ a casa con noi.

E Jacopo la proteggera’ dal posto pieno di luce in cui si trova.

Mi manchi tanto piccino mio...

Hush little baby

hush little baby don't be afraid

your brother in the stars protects you anyway

hush little baby stay with us

you need to live for you for him for mama and papa

hush little baby don't go away

you need to be my rainbow baby here today

hush little baby don't you cry

mama is gonna sing you a lullaby

hush little baby don't say a word

mama is gonna by you a mocking bird

[...]

L'importanza di una identita' anagrafica

Siamo madri e posso assicurare assai stufe di essere trattate come se non lo fossimo. Siamo madri i cui figli sono morti, non e' che non sono mai esisti.

I nostri figli hanno un nome, un cognome, un peso e una data e un'ora di nascita e volendo anche una carta del cielo, se fosse che non se ne faranno di nulla in questa vita. Hanno un segno zodiacale, hanno lasciato dietro delle foto e sono vissuti, poco, il piu' delle volte solo nelle nostre pance, ma sono vissuti e sempre vivranno nei nostri cuori e in quello che grazie a loro siamo diventate. Non e' qualcosa da cui dobbiamo voltare pagina. Ne' una brutta esperienza da cui ci si riprende. 

E noi abbiamo lo stesso orgoglio materno di qualunque altra madre, solo che non abbiamo avuto di lusso di poter sfrantumare la minchia a chiunque con il colore unico della merda del nostro piccino. Non abbiamo avuto il tempo di mostrare a giro a cani e porci quanto fosse eccezionale e meraviglioso (anche perche' il piu' delle volte nessuno ce lo ha chiesto) e non potremo mai dire a nessuno che e' il primo della classe o, ammesso e non concesso, fosse stato duro come una pina verde, il migliore della squadra di cricket.

Io da parte mia anche a questo giro ho fatto in modo di non levarmi da questo mondo e ho un paio di scarpe fucsia con il tacco del 12 che farebbero impallidire Carrie Bradshaw e che celebrano l'appena citato successo.

Tanto per non far nascere inutili seghe mentali nei miei lettori abituali (ho gia' in mente un paio di persone che potrebbero iniziare a fare il mea culpa senza assolutamente averne motivo), questo post non e' riferito a NESSUNO di voi che anzi siete tutti assai speciali (almeno chi in questi mesi mi ha contattato privatamente per dirmi che mi legge). E' solo che ogni tanto mi si tappa la vena e vorrei che la gente imparasse a convivere con il dolore altrui senza dire cazzate/luoghi comuni/frasi fatte e soprattutto dare consigli non richiesti e soluzioni preconfezionate buone per ben altri tipi di dolori.

Stare zitti e ascoltate e' una abilita' in via di estinzione!

2011

Get up stand up

Stand up for your rights

Get up stand up

Don't give up the fight