for Calvin

I will keep you in my heart and carry you there each day. And when I am in my deepest of grieving, my son, I will remember the morning I held you in my arms and saw you in your father’s. In those brief hours, the world stopped in silence and honored us. Time stopped and let our family be whole. And the pain of losing you fell away, like gossamer carried away on a passing breeze. For a moment—a moment that is enough, yes, enough to sustain me through the many, many days of living I must endure without you—I forgot the feeling of loss. You filled my heart. You fill it still.

I want to thank those of you who responded to our cries yesterday, on what was supposed to be Calvin’s due date. By bearing witness to our grief, you held us. With each message Louie and I felt lifted up and carried by your love and support.

Thank you, also, to those of who have been willing to pause your lives for a moment or two, and sometimes several moments, to walk alongside us on this painful path we’ve been treading since learning about the difficulties and risks of my pregnancy to this moment, when we feel like we should have Calvin in our arms.

Thank you for being present in our sorrow. Thank you for crying with us. Thank you for admitting that you don’t know what to say. Thank you for validating our feelings. Thank you for just saying “I’m sorry.” Thank you for letting us know when you’re thinking of us and our baby. Most of all, thank you for allowing us to be where we were, to be where we are.

Remembering

by Elizabeth Dent

Go ahead and mention my child,
The one that died, you know.
Don’t worry about hurting me further.
The depth of my pain doesn’t show.
Don’t worry about making me cry.
I’m already crying inside.
Help me heal by releasing
The tears that I try and hide.
I’m hurt when you just keep silent,
Pretending he didn’t exist.
I’d rather you mention my child,
Knowing that he has been missed.
You asked me how I was doing.
I say “pretty good” or “fine”
But healing is something ongoing.
I feel it will take a lifetime.

Thank You for Remembering

Thank you for your willingness to remember our grief, to remember our son, to speak of such things, to be with us and face us when we are at our lowest, to allow us to be “weak”… These things are more healing than I could ever explain. And I thank God for this blessing – for placing people in our lives who are willing to put themselves in discomfort by sitting with us in our sorrow, by acknowledging the significance of the loss we are experiencing.

Each Gesture You Make Matters

I want you to know that though we may be too overwhelmed or exhausted to respond each time, each time does matter. From seeing that you “like” a Facebook status message in which we speak of our son, to receiving a picture for the Calvin Phoenix Photo Project, to reading text messages or emails, to finding replies/comments on things we post, to hearing “it’s okay” when we say “no” because we are not up to being around other people — We remember each of these things, and we carry them with us.

I know I can’t
make you whole again
But I’m here.
I’m here to catch
your tears in the palms of my hand,
to try to make the landing a little less

rough
when you fall,
because I’m falling,

too. So I’ll go down with you,
and,
when we are
ready, we can
help one another climb
back up, when we are ready,
but only then.
And if you are never

ready
to let go

of our child, of our baby,
know that it’s okay because I can’t
let Calvin go, either,
at least not in the way of forgetting
or letting ourselves lose
him to the aching of our grief.

I love you, Louie. Happy Father’s Day.

grey overwhelms blue
without my light, my sweet son
wet fog surrounds me

by Terri Apostolakos

We are connected, my child and I,
By an invisible cord not seen by the eye.
It’s not like the cord that connects us at birth
This cord can’t be seen by any on earth.
This cord does it’s work right from the start
It binds us together attached to my heart
I know that it’s there though no one can see
The invisible cord from my child to me.
The strength of this cord it’s hard to describe
It can’t be destroyed it can’t be denied.
It’s stronger than any cord man could create
It withstands the test can hold any weight
And though you are gone though you’re not here with me
The cord is still there but no one can see
It pulls at my heart I am bruised…I am sore
But this cord is my lifeline as never before.
I am thankful that God connects us this way
A mother and child death can’t take it away!