Her Days

HER DAYS

Sometime after Halloween, if people ask and I’m feeling up to it, I explain that winter is her season. It all began to unfold shortly before Thanksgiving and so, that year, the nights felt longer and darker.  Winter is her season. And since she was born in February, it is her month.

February is her month and these are her days.

Amalia was born February 9^th 2011 after two hours of pushing, twenty-four hours of labor, three months of desperate grief and sadness, and nine months of love and anticipation. I say that Ama’s birth made us parents, but the truth is, Ama’s pregnancy made us parents.

By the time she was born, Hawk and I had already been confronted with the most challenging decisions parents can ever face. By the time she was born, we were exhausted — and her birth was just the beginning. Our daughter lived for seventeen days.   

For me, her days were experienced as a concentrated parenthood.  Her father and I spent them simultaneously marveling at her perfect newborness while ferociously advocating for her needs and preparing to let her go.

These days will always break my heart. But I am learning to live with it. We are all learning.

Tomorrow, Ama’s Dad, sister, and I will go to the sculpture garden where we held her memorial. We will eat a piece of birthday cake in her honor. We will try to make it through these days.