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So, tomorrow is the holiday where we give thanks and obviously we are lacking in the thanks department this year. I have been anxious about these next few days for a while now so I thought I’d better get myself prepared for it. I decided that I must make the turkey for the thanksgiving dinner at my in-laws. So, if you don’t know this about me already, I was a veg-aquarian (yes, a made up term for those who eat veggie but also eat fish) for like 20 years before I got pregnant this year.  As soon as I got pregnant, I started eating chicken, turkey, sausage, bacon,etc. I am not eating cow but I never liked any of the cow meats ever anyway so I have no desire to try them now. Anyway, for a former veg to take on the turkey is a big feat. Chris wants nothing to do with me and my turkey making. He thinks I’m crazy. But I deliberately planned this to help me get through this holiday. As soon as I realized that I could purchase a heritage turkey from a local farm, I was in. If I’m going to eat turkey, then I need to know how it was treated- no hormones, antibiotics and free to wander. When I made this decision and ordered the turkey, it didn’t occur to me what I would have to go through to actually prepare it.

A friend who was also a veg-aquarian like me, who also started eating meat again, told me when she recently cooked a turkey she was not prepared for what it entailed. I never thought about the fact that I’d have this huge bird on my counter that I had to clean and massage and stick my hand into. So this past weekend I watched the Food Network for hours, taking in all the Thanksgiving shows from all my favorite chefs. I learned all the tricks to cooking a delicious turkey. So the big question for me was- to brine or not to brine? It seemed overwhelming to me to brine so I wasn’t going to do it. Another friend told me about a dry brining method that seemed to be all the rage- so I looked it up. It was the perfect method for my frame of mind, so my 21lb turkey is now covered in kosher salt and brining in the fridge. Luckily the farm cleaned out all the insides and the neck and put them in a ziploc. I just had to do a simple rinse and dry. Though as simple as it may sound, its pretty heavy and has all sorts of weird parts. I haven’t been this close to a full huge dead animal like this since I was a kid.  Even then, I didn’t pay much attention- I didn’t have to actually do anything to it, it was all my mom. It turned out not as bad as I was expecting – I even tried to think of a name for him as I cleaned his legs and wings. Somehow that didn’t seem appropriate since we’d be eating him.  So I just thanked him for giving us his life to feed the 20+ in the Gallagher family tomorrow.

Cooking is one of my favorite things to do- and while pregnant I pretty much stopped altogether due to nausea & laziness. After Silas died, there was no way I could even muster up any energy to even consider cooking something for us. It got to the point where I was feeling so crappy for not eating well, that I decided to take over in the food department. So a few weeks ago I started again. I now food shop, check out recipes, and make a conscious choice to put healthy foods back in my body. I went through a period where I felt like I didn’t care so much- like, I’m not pregnant or breast feeding, so who cares what I do to myself? But I know I need to keep my body feeling & working good if I am going to grow another baby. And its so much a part of who I am that I think I was fooling myself when I thought it was ok to eat poorly.

I’m a bit nervous about this turkey, but I think it will go alright. Its not like this whole Thanksgiving dinner depends on my turkey or anything- ha!

As far as thanks go, thats a hard one. We do thank those of you in our life who continue to call, email, chat, comment and hang in there as we go through this horrible time in our lives.  As sad and angry as we are, we are lucky and thankful to have each other and the life we’ve made together.  I am trying to be thankful that Silas was in my life at all, even though it was so brief. Obviously I feel it is not enough and its hard for me to find the thanks for even having that short time I did with him.  So for the next few days, I will be thankful to be surrounded by those who love us and for the meals we get to share together.  And of course for the turkey who was lucky enough to be prepared and eaten by a former veg-aquarian.

Things are starting to get weird here.  Life is accelerating and I’m having trouble catching my breath.  I can feel tension in my neck and arm and back, pressure in my sinus.  The winter hit quick this year and the cold is making me tight and shivery.  It’s too soon to turn on the heat but we must.  We’re cold.  We use blankets on the couch and drink coffee to stay warm.  Coffee is everywhere in my life right now.

I felt restless and edgy today.  It could have been too much caffeine.  Or perhaps it was talking to customers that knew us before Silas but not since.  It’s probably both plus the apathy of emptiness.

Blah.  The blah is alive and well in my life now.  Bills, chores, bullshit, assholes, unwatchable TV and good ideas ignored all go blah now.  It’s phone calls to good friends I have to make that I can’t because who wants to hear from a disaster zone, and what is there to say?  Surprise!  Disaster Zone on the phone!  Were you feeling good before your caller ID blew up with a Sadness Bomb on the line?

I can’t even talk to myself sometimes because it’s too fucking catastrophic to comprehend.  So I let NPR do the talking or let music thump me down the road.

Besides, this is how it goes: (first there’s a loooong series of rings where I see the person looking at their phone and deciding if they can handle this right now.)  Then: Hey, hi it’s Chris.  Yeah I’m okay, you know.  Yes, yes, thank you.  I know there’s really nothing to say.  Thank you, yes we love his name so much too.  Yeah it’s fucked up, but we’re getting by somehow.  Most of the time okay and only sometimes terrible.  I know, I know, thank you.  If you can we will let you know.  So what the fuck?  How the hell are you?  What’s going on out there in *insert city*?

And I want to listen because I love my friends and I miss them a lot, but sometimes I can’t stop saying to myself: They are talking to a disaster.  Alert. Alert.  Disaster on the line.  Get out quick because it’s only going to get worse!  I have nothing to offer, no stories or smalltalk.  Help!  I can’t have normal conversations!  Is this normal?  Do you think I sound okay?  Please don’t say something awesome and make me cry.  Please don’t… awwww fuck.

And then I feel their love and how sad they are for me and how much they know I miss Silas, and that makes me realize again how much more I miss him than is even possible to comprehend and I almost drive off the road in tears.

Which is why I don’t call.  Because I don’t want drive off the road in tears.  Because your sadness for me makes my incessant longing for Silas impossibly sharp.  Because I am a disaster zone and the only reports coming out are: Recovery in progress.  Pitfalls abound.  Use Caution.  Danger.  Alert.  Danger.

The television has become loathed and worshiped.  Rock Band is an outlet that actually feels pretty good.  A few bagels hide in the freezer.  Bandha keeps asking to go outside, but then demands to be let back in because the cold has come.  Roasting coffee is amazing and only getting better.  Lu is the anchor that secures my soul and gives me reason to awake and take action every day.  Silas fills my heart.  I get lost in this apartment looking for clarity.

I wallow in sadness, sneering at the sky as I drive down I95 and the low winter sun strobes through the bare trees and I try not to cry.

I have nothing to offer but reports from our disaster zone, but if you’re interested I’ll try to give you a call.

I sing lullabies

in my sad, weeping heart where

only Silas hears

I know you are all trying to be helpful and thoughtful when you say to me “don’t worry, you’ll have a beautiful family one day.” I know that. I do. I feel it in my heart and feel so lucky to know that I can get pregnant and I can grow a healthy baby. But that’s not the point. I want Silas. I want him now and every morning I wake up and he’s not there. I want him every night that I’m laying on the couch and he should be laying with me. As much as everyone in my life would like to think that I’m doing so well, you know what? I’m still not. I woke up this morning angrier then I’ve been in so long.  I want my baby and I can’t have him and its just not fair.

It may seem like I’m doing better because I put a picture on my facebook page where I am actually smiling. I answer emails and phone calls, make you dinner and go have lunch and I act like nothing happened.  Inside I am screaming and crying and throwing things around. I keep it together because its just easier that way.  It doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable or sad to be around me. I am filled with a rage that I have never known before.

Even when I get pregnant again, even when I have a beautiful new baby to hold and love, I will still not have Silas. That won’t ever go away. I will love my future children more than I can even put into words. I will feel like I am the luckiest mom alive.  I know that and I can feel it and see it. It’s just not Silas and that won’t ever change. There is nothing anyone can ever say to me that will make that fact go away or feel even remotely ok. Some days I feel ok. I do. I can be normal. When that happens, everyone around me thinks I’m fine and breathes that sigh of relief. Oh, thank god, she’s ok. But you know what, I’m not. Today I’m not. I’m terrible, I’m sad, I’m angry, I’m just not ok.  And thats ok.

I went back to work this week. I was anxious about it all weekend though I didn’t talk about it much. The part that worried me most was being able to keep it together while teaching the kids. With each school that I went into, it was seeing the teachers that ended up being the hardest part. Each teacher or director gave me a huge hug and was really very emotional about it. Chris had to face this right away since he went back to work 3 weeks later.  So now, almost 2 months later, it was all coming full force right back to me. Most of the people I see on a daily basis either don’t know me and my situation or have seen me continuously throughout these last 8 weeks. I really have had little contact with people who know what happened but who I have not seen yet.

Some kids asked about the baby, which I knew would happen. Most of the time I was able to blow it off because the moments that they asked it just didn’t seem appropriate to tell what happened. How do you tell a group of little kids that my baby died, especially ones who didn’t know me or even know that I was pregnant? We pretty much left it to each parent to tell their own child. Which then of course makes it that much harder for me since I’m really not sure what they told them. I’ve read that being honest with children is the best way to handle it. But really, is there a best way?

There was one 4yr old group yesterday where I had taught all of them up until I left for my break. It was clear that some knew what happened while others did not. They asked, so I told them straight out, my baby was born and then he died right after he was born. I am very sad about it, but I know being with them will make me feel better. I asked them for hugs and they all gave them to me. Then we immediately started our yoga class. They didn’t need to talk about it anymore. They were ready to move on and do some yoga- the yoga they missed so much while I was gone. It was as easy as that.

With kids, luckily they don’t hold it like we do. It’s too abstract for them, and they don’t see me anyway on a daily basis so they just don’t think about it. They know its sad, but it doesn’t make them sad all the time like it does for us. The day before I saw some of the older kids I taught, and they were truly sad for me. I saw it in their faces and how they looked at me. I don’t know how much of it they are holding onto, these girls were 10 & 11 yrs old, not 3 & 4 like the others, but they get it.

It’s so hard to bring so much sadness to those around you, especially these innocent kids. On the other hand though, it is life and with life, comes death. Sometimes a life is cut way too short, much shorter then we all had expected. I guess we all need to understand that not everyone gets to live to 80 or 90 or 100yrs old.  I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that my baby got to have only 10 hours of life. It just doesn’t seem fair. I wish I could move on like the kids do and just go on with my daily life, only getting sad when Silas is mentioned for that moment. But that doesn’t happen. He is always present, he hangs out in the forefront of my brain. He is with me with every single thing I do. Lately I’ve been trying to numb the pain with shopping. A trip to TJ Maxx or Target could do wonders for depression. I’ve been obsessed with finding the perfect bag for work so I go to a different TJ Maxx every day, searching for that perfect bag. I actually buy one, use it a few days with the tag still on it, and then return it and find a new one to try out. While I’m shopping, I’m also thinking about Silas because I see all the other mom’s and their babies out shopping together and I think about how that would have been me.  I see mom’s yelling at their little ones who are too noisy or annoying and wish that they could understand how lucky they are to have their child with them, even though they may be a little too loud for their liking. But I keep on, looking for that butter dish, some fancy spices, a new cast iron frying pan. TJ Maxx is the best place for all those weird items you really don’t need but somehow feel compelled to buy.

I am grateful for the work I do, for this business I chose to start over 5 years ago. This yoga I am trying to teach the little ones to use in times of anger, sadness, anxiety, is what is also getting me through my each and every day. I am practicing what I preach. As tough as I thought it would be to be with all of these children, its really not. They bring such a sweetness and an innocence to everything we do. Silas is with me while I wag my dogtail, fly like a butterfly and sing Om Shanti Shanti Peace. I am able to laugh and smile and take pride in what I do, the joy I bring to all of these beautiful kids. I will let them teach me in turn to find my joy again.

The holidays are almost here, and I must admit I am quite apprehensive.  We expected these holidays to be the best ones of our lives, because we would be sharing them with our brand new son.  But just like everything else in our lives, they have been flipped over and turned around, transformed into something grueling and raw and painful.

Thanksgiving, eh?  More like Thanks-for-nothing.  I just do not have much gratitude to spare for this past year.  Although I am thankful that Lu is healed and healthy, and that we have each other and our family and our friends to help us along, it is all cold comfort compared to the what-should-be.

The godddam what-should-be.  It is inescapable.  But I should have known that there really is no ‘should be’ in this world.  There is only what is and what isn’t.  And this isn’t going to be fun.

One thing that was very nice was the way our families took the time to speak with Lu and I and to see what we wanted to do for Thanksgiving this year.  We had the veto option where we could have said we wanted it to be a small family affair instead of the multi-family party that it always is in each of our houses.  That felt wrong to us, though.  Changing the way we celebrated the holiday by excluding our extended family would have made it even worse in some ways.  It would have revealed just how powerfully screwed up we are, that we had to cancel Thanksgiving because we couldn’t handle it.

The fact is, we can handle it.  There will be tough moments for sure, but that’s our everyday life now.  The hardest moments are the ones we each have to go through all by ourselves: in the car alone with an invisible carseat, half-asleep in bed on another empty morning, caught stricken in public when we’re asked some innocuous question by a stranger, those are the moments no one can protect us from.

At least during Thanksgiving we will be surrounded by people we love who will ask nothing of us and simply shower us with care and support and insist upon laughter because we just can’t help ourselves when we’re around our amazing families.  We refuse to let the cruelty of the Universe dictate our lives.  We will push through no matter how difficult that day will be without Silas there with us.

I will stuff myself with turkey and sweet potatoes and beers and gravy.  I will retreat to the bathroom or out back to shed tears if need be.  I will play with my beautiful young cousins and chase Oren around the house with a grin plastered to my face.  I will hang with my bros, I will get hugs from my aunts and taunts from my uncles.  I will listen to my father swear at the world as he gets Mom situated, the table set up, and food out of the oven.

And in my heart I will try to be thankful for the few brief hours that Silas was with us, but I have my doubts about being able to overcome the gaping chasm of loss that has hollowed out my guts.

I guess that just leaves more room for turkey.

I have been out in the world a great deal lately and it is messing me up.  I’m splintering into pieces and it is not easy to keep all the parts together.

The surprising thing is that being out in the world isn’t really the hard part, but rather the fact that there is only the same empty place I come back to when I’m done out there.  The place where Silas isn’t destroys me over and over again.  And no matter if I’m in Boston, at home, on the road alone delivering coffee, when find myself returning to that place where he isn’t, that place that is my life-as-it-should-have-been, I am crushed anew.

I can do the world stuff now, mostly. I’ve thrown myself into work.  But it is such an effort to accomplish even the tiniest thing because on some level, I just don’t give a fuck.  Except that I also do.  I know I have to keep going forward,  I need to get shit done, work, live, love, laugh.  Just do it.  Just go go go.  But no, sometimes.  No.  Not getting up.  Not returning that phone call (and sorry to friends I owe calls back to, they are coming.)  Not thinking about Silas.  Not not not not can’t won’t.  But I am.  Always.

Always back to that place where I am thinking about him and it is literally the one and only thing I can do with him.  That’s it.  I can think about him.  Nothing else.

It is empty.  I’m emptier than I have ever felt before.  I have little to say a lot of the time.  I just don’t feel like talking.  I don’t feel like explaining how I’m feeling over and over again.

And I hate it when people don’t ask.

I can feel the world drifting on and a silence descending over me.  I can feel an isolation occurring.  Perhaps it is the winter coming.  I fear the barren, knifing winds that wait to sweep through the empty streets of this tiny city.  I dread the soft flakes that will seal us frozen in our home.  I fear the grief that is still in me and that I will carry with me every day of my life.  I’m afraid of how scared I feel these days.

And then I remember that I really, actually and truly do not give a fuck.  That helps.  Remembering that I don’t give one single shit about anything and that people should just get the hell out of my way definitely helps me to deal with the vicious cruelty of this desolate place I keep having to go back to every moment of the day.

Do you think maybe this is the anger phase?  Does that sound right to you?  It rings true with me.  As you read this you must think I’m just a completely pissed off person and while that would be true on one level, it’s also not true in many ways.

I am calm and content when roasting coffee.  Working in the shop and helping to create an amazing business with people I love is truly wonderful.  I feel good there and I really enjoy all the accounts and customers I work with.  Probably for the first time in my life I am completely and totally thrilled with my work-life, while I absolutely loathe my personal life.  But that’s not exactly it, either.

I love Lu and my family and my friends with thorough devotion.  Everyone’s love and support has been utterly amazing.  That’s all part of my personal life and I cherish it.  Rather it is my life itself, my personal experience of this life of mine that is so awful right now.  How I go about my day and how I live in my mind and how I trust and perceive the world, all of that, I hate it.  I hate that the most personal creature, my son, isn’t with me and never will be.  I hate that thought so much I have to keep my distance from it or I shatter like a wineglass on stone.

Then sometimes I have to go ahead and think about Silas, about how he will never be with me, and I shatter myself on purpose.

The problem is that there’s just no way to do all of this at the same time and feel completely sane.  So the pieces splinter and I pull them together and let all of you shove different parts into alignment.  Saturday night we saw Ira Glass in Northampton.  It was an incredible show.  I laughed so hard throughout and shed many tears, and for a little while I was able to be in that internal place with Silas and yet not feel like it was a crucible incinerating my soul.  I can find that peaceful solace within sometimes, but it doesn’t last.  And then I go back to missing him so much I don’t give a fuck about anything and I forge forward through the day destroying obstacles with ease.

We walked around Boston a lot last week.  It felt really good.  That experience helped spark an image for me, as I was thinking about how I was feeling, how I was navigating through the world while still passing through that terrible place where I missed Silas so much it created physical pain in me.  I was also just starting a book called The Canticle of Lebowitz that is considered ‘speculative literature’ (aka really good sci-fi you don’t even know is sci-fi) that takes place decades after a worldwide nuclear holocaust.  In the book, cities were turned to sheets of glass where nuclear warheads landed.

I feel as though my soul has been turned into that fused glass.  I see myself walking across a vast and desolate landscape where only off in the distance can I vaguely see tiny oases of light and life and color.  It takes a great deal of effort to walk from one of these places to the next.  Much of the time I am simply moving, moving forward, crunching across the shattered landscape with my head tight against my neck and my thin jacket pulled tight against the icy breeze.  When I’m feeling exceptionally awful there is even sometimes a tiny hand in mine, and I cannot even bear to look to see if it is Silas.  Of course it is.  I know that.  But the pure and painful impossibility of that is too brutal to even risk a glace towards him.

It wasn’t like this before.  I used to live at one of those oases all the time.  That place of light and color and love and laughter, it filled me completely.  It was a rare day when I felt like I was caught out in the barren reaches of the soul.  Now every day is a struggle to rise from my hovel, to walk across the landscape that was incinerated into glass on the day my son was born and then passed away, to find a cool pool with lush growth and the trappings of love and hope and to stay there for as long as I can.

It is never long enough.  I have to always keep walking, now.  I have to spend time out there in the reaches where I can think, and where it is safer for me to be.  I am toxic now and I have to learn how to protect myself first, so that I can protect others from me, so that they are not incinerated by the burning phosphorous of this vicious sadness.

I can shatter to pieces out there and the shards cut no one.  It is all glass.  All flat.  All harded and fused.

So I did get my tattoo on Sunday. Its absolutely beautiful and perfect. Our good friend Cindy who just happens to be a tattoo artist helped to design it and inked my inner left wrist with a tree (based on the book The Giving Tree) and the constellation of Orion in the sky. I can’t stop looking at it, as it is my only tattoo in such a prominent place. I have 5 others, all somewhat hidden from me unless its summer. I do have a flower on my belly button which was interesting to see expand with my pregnant belly. Now I can’t stand looking at it since I’ve yet to lose the last 15 lbs of baby weight.  This new one though, it’s always in sight, always there to remind me of my precious little boy who I will never get to hold in my arms.

Chris was having difficulty that day in deciding what to get. Nothing seemed to work for him so he decided to wait. It has been a tough week for him, seeing me with mine and it being so perfect and beautiful.  But he will get his soon, and then he’ll be carrying Silas also where he’ll never be out of sight.  We will post pix of both of ours together as soon as Chris gets his.

So this week our friend Michelle from SF was in town visiting us and we spent a few days in Boston. We had a great time visiting old friends, and reconnecting with a city that both of us lived in when we did not know each other. It was fun to see how the city had changed while also visiting old favorite places. Chris had a coffee seminar which was the reason for the trip.

The city life came back to us full force every night that we were out to dinner and hanging with friends. Our life here in New Haven is not even remotely close to what we had in SF as far as any sort of social life. We moved here knowing that we didn’t have friends to get beers with after work or go bike riding with on Sat afternoon or see shows with any given night of the week. Oh we have tons of friends in the northeast area, but none in this same city (though since we’ve moved here we’ve met a few really great people in our ‘hood).  I enjoyed what moving here brought us- family close by, quiet nights and weekends away to visit with our friends and their kids. It was a different sort of lifestyle then we both had been used to. But it was what I was craving, especially since we got pregnant in Jan of last year. We came here to start a family and quiet our lives and it felt good.

So things have taken a new path. Our plan of starting a family has now been postponed. But it was what we had come here to do, all our energy all year went into preparation for a new lifestyle that everyone around us here on the east coast had already done years before us. Out in SF, our group of friends were a bit behind, only in the last year did people begin to have babies. Here, we were pretty much the minority until I got pregnant.  So being in Boston, and going out and being social brought us back to that life again.

But it freaked me out. I can’t go there, or even think about going there. I want to continue on this path we started.  I do understand that itch and longing for friends to hang out with during the week and living in a city where there was so much to do everywhere you look.  But at this moment, right now, it feels like going backwards. It is like giving up on this carefully crafted plan we had.  Who knows, maybe we’ll have the city life again, but with our kids. We’ll figure it out. Just like we are figuring out how to get through each day.

For now though, I will chill out on the couch with the remote as I admire my new tattoo. I have no place to be, no one to meet up with and a quiet, rainy night at home alone.  And I’m ok with that.

I went to my 6 week postpartum visit to my midwives office on Thursday. I had an anxiety attack that morning before I went. It started with the realization that Chumby may have fleas and how am I supposed to deal with that, it just seemed way too much for me to deal with right then. I was overwhelmed and then I looked around the apt and it was a mess and I thought, how am I supposed to clean, get rid of fleas and go to see the midwives? I took a few deep breaths, cried a little, gave Chris a huge hug and then left. I managed to get there somehow and the anxiety started to creep back as I walked those familiar stairs down to the office.  I spent the next hour getting some closure.

I still felt the need to question everything. I think its a female’s innate sense to question over and over until we feel it’s resolved. I don’t think guys do that as much, at least I know Chris didn’t need to at all really. I read everything I could find about shoulder dystocia, asked the midwives over and over about what happened, replayed the scene so many times it was like there was no stop button on the dvd player in my mind.

I have finally come to that place where I no longer need to question. I feel resolved in that I know our decision to have a homebirth was a selfless act in which we thought only of giving our baby the best experience it could possibly have coming into this world. I know that no one is to blame for what happened, not me, not Silas, not the midwives, not the tub, not being at home. It is what it is and I’ve come to terms with it. I will never understand why this happened to us, but I do know there is no magical reason. Shit happens and it happened to us.

Somehow we are now part of this large community of people who have lost their babies. I have been connecting with women who have responded to this blog, to friends of friends, to old friends and women we met at the support group. We are now part of this community that we never even knew existed. They have welcomed us with open arms and hearts. The thing is, I don’t want to be part of this group, I didn’t ask to be one of them but here I am. I talk with women who are 3, 4, 7 and 10 years out and have had subsequent children as well as women who have just lost a child recently like us. With each conversation I gain a little more understanding, for them, for me, for us and for our future.

Some days I feel emotionally drained. I try not to let it consume me each day, but even a few hours of this reality creates this little pain in my temple and jaw and just sits there.  Oh we laugh, we pretend we’re normal most of the time. Chris writes about that so frequently these days. Its the only way we can survive. Otherwise we’d still be in bed, 6 weeks later, smelling pretty badly. We get up, we shower (most of the time), we work, we talk, we type, we drive, we eat, we cook, I do my yoga (almost every day!), we rock out on Rock Band, we lay on the couch for hours and we think about Silas. I am getting acupuncture and massages. We are living, we are living the lives of people who have lost a baby.

I can say now that I have progressed from where I was 6 weeks ago. Then I was in a state of shock. Now, only a month and a half out, I am somehow living this reality. I still cry every single day, but I haven’t sobbed in weeks. I am moving myself forward in every way I can. With each new baby born to all the friends in my life who were due this fall like me, I smile for their happiness and cry for my sadness and what I don’t have. I have come such a long way in these 6 weeks, but yet I have a long road ahead of me, that I know.

Tomorrow is going to hurt.  Everyday does, really, but tomorrow it will be pain as a choice.  Pain we can own.

We’re getting tattoos in honor of our son.  Ink everlasting in our skin to capture an aspect of Silas that we can see every day.  Weird?  Maybe.  Not what you’d do?  That’s fine.  For both of us it feels perfect.

Same spot on each of us (inner wrist) slightly divergent designs.  Lu and I are alike in many ways, but in others so very very different.  She likes onions.  I can’t stand’em.  She’s hopeful and optimistic.  I’m a cynical bastard.  Both of our tattoos will contain the constellation Orion, though, and we can’t wait.

It has been a challenge to reconcile our two paths through this grief.  Lu wants to know everything about everything that went wrong that day.  I can’t know the data and statistics.  I can’t have this terrible lottery ticket in my head.  But I understand her need to have the details, it’s good that she will have them.  We balance each other out that way.

I also understand our need for permanent ink.  I want that constellation blazed across my wrist.  I want to feel the needle vibrating sharply through my skin creating stars I can stare at as often as I like.

The brief life of Silas seared our souls, and we need some beautiful scars to prove it.

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