a name in the dark

Happy Birthday Baby: in a sweat ceremony when I was newly pregnant with Callum, I sat out of one of the hotter rounds.

It was fall. He was the size of a lentil. I didn't know he was a he. I was scared because I had lost three pregnancies before, but I could feel his presence so intensely that it felt safe and secure to ease into the knowing that [YES, everything will be fine]

Brandon helped me out of the Iodge, laid me on a stack of blankets, and placed another stack of blankets on top of me. I laid in that spacey in between place and felt the spirit of a polar bear come lay beside me. I saw the bear, beautiful and luminous, and felt it's deep chest rise and fall with each breath it took.

For a while we laid there, us two, just being with each other. Then I asked if he wanted to share something. That vision I will keep private but he said, without my insistence or asking, that if the baby should be a girl I would name her Aurora. She will be the dawning of a new life for me and he showed a vision on the horizon that is hers.

Aurora it was.

But shortly after that I felt that he was a he and that he needed a name of his own. So I asked Spirit to send one to me in a dream. A few weeks later it arrived.

The dream felt deep and ancestral; it was dark and smelled of earth. And in that darkness a name was called: "Callie"

I knew in that moment it was my sweetname for my son. I knew his name was to be Callum.

A few months ago, I had another dream where a voice in the dark reached out to me to say: "the girl was always meant to survive, the boy was not. The time could have been then or it could have been now. You chose." What to do with this? Rational mind says many things, loudly and repeatedly and emphasizing that this shit is crazy. Spirit mind says to listen to my heart.

My heart says to trust the journey, trust the process, and trust that I was part of a situation that had already been written. Heart says to stop seeking answers to things I can't possibly understand-- they are beyond human comprehension.

So I sit with what remains on my little man's 2nd Birthday: a couple pictures, a jar of bones and blessings, and the story of how he came into being.

death day 2

Death Day: I have so much to say but none of it feels right-- so I'll stick with honesty over poetics.

I've been avoiding this spot for the two years since Callum died because it was my favorite spot to soak during that summer and because I planned to teach him how to swim there. Except for ONCE last summer when I was pregnant with Bea (which was far too weird and painful to walk the same terrain while doing the same things, while carrying a different baby and praying for a different outcome!), I haven't seen this spot since the day before he died.

We decided to celebrate Callum's death by reclaiming this spot.

Not unlike our life, it has completely changed in the two years since he died. The winter thaw and spring rains totally transformed the landscape from what I remember last year. Our usual swim holes are no more. Everything shifted.

And it really feels so fucking good.

Like a breath of fresh air. It's newness like a blank page. We can create a different story.

And we did.

We played and swam and sucked on rocks and visited black dragonflies and were caught under an unintended rainbow from the glare of the sun on the camera. All with OUR baby.

It felt like stepping into a portal to another world.

I'm finding, in this first year, Bea is changing our healing path. She is closing up our loose ends and mending our broken hearts. Callum sent her to us for that very purpose ❤🌈 so while we celebrate the death of one life, we celebrated the birth of a new life for us.

And just a deep thank you to everyone who reads the crazy shit I write. I never intend for my posts to be anything but therapy for my pain. I'm so glad that they resonate and that you guys can really hear our harder stuff alongside our joys. I love you 🥰

i am his mother, he is my baby

2 years ago today at exactly 41 weeks with my sweet son: this was the last full day Callum Angus was swimming in my womb. We heard his strong heart a few times that night and by 3pm on the 5th he was gone.

This was literally peak happiness for me-- I couldn't remember a more blissful day. We swam at our favorite hole, ate a picnic of pistachios and mango, played with Gert, slowly walked up and down the creek breathing through loads of contractions, and talked about how life was going to change once this little stinker decided to make his entrance into our world.

I couldn't look at this picture for a long time. When I took it I thought it was going to be the one picture I would proudly show him when he became a little boy. I remember thinking that I would tell him "look how mama glowed with you inside her, you made me so beautiful". Once he died those words seared in my heart. I will never forget what this picture meant to me, what it made me feel.

It felt like the start of a new journey, but certainly not the one I intended or wished for.

So the next few days are really hard for us.

The 4th was our last day together as a family (and it honestly seems like the last time I was that fully embodied and happy). The 5th is when Callum died. The 6th is our spiritual labor. The 7th is our physical labor.

We're just holding space for ourselves and keeping our hearts in tender places (and really pouring lots of love on Bea!). But let me say... the pain is unimaginable. The physical longing for your child does not go away after your child dies. There is an imprint, a primal feeling, that you're left with.

I allow myself to sit with that feeling from time to time just to remind myself that I AM HIS MOTHER and HE IS MY BABY. Sometimes it seems like that is all we have. That deep overwhelming embrace. The place of intense joy and intense sadness.

We did this together. Agreed on this path together. Decided it was this lifetime together.

But, still, this is the one day I long to return to. Just to feel that bliss again. It was truly a perfect day. At least I have that.

sometimes the only path forward is a leap of faith

Before it all: Summer 2003

Back on Christmas Eve I got pulled over for talking on my phone. I was in the throes of a massive breakdown and looking for help and not thinking straight and needing to talk to my mom.

Holidays are really hard for me. Callum's death is really hard for me. Seeing Bea and the kids in my life that are around how old he would have been is hard for me. It all came to a peak that day. Another holiday where we would move on without him being 🤲 here 🤲

I didn't try pretending with the cop. I couldn't control the breakdown. I was hyperventilating, barely coherent, telling him what was going on, what I was working through. My son died. Holidays are hard. I needed help. THAT was the best I could do.

He went back to the cruiser and returned with a ticket. He said he and his ex-wife went through the same thing a few years back. In the moment, and really needing guidance, I asked how they got through it. He said: "needless to say, it's why we're not together".
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I will never forget that combination of words. I knew in my gut it was a wake up call.
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A Universal 2x4 to the head: "oh yeah! that DOES happen! there's no guarantee we make it through this."
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Keeping a relationship going for 17 years is really hard. The optimist in me thinks it'll get easier but it just keeps getting more complex. Richer, yes. Down time and breathing room to get back in the fight, yes. But navigation is so hard. Especially in the times when we're both lost in our own darkness.

Normal marriage is complicated. Heap on the grief, pain, anger, rage, disbelief of your child dying 🤦‍♀️ coupled with a life that just keeps moving forward (because life really is indifferent) and you can find yourself in interesting dynamics.

Yesterday someone asked me the age of our relationship and I immediately responded "infancy". I think we're on our fourth relationship together. We're in a process of relearning and recommitting. Crafting a life after death. Just a couple of babies.

Wild and untameable shit, this new chapter.

And an unknowable future. Scary. Exciting. Who the fuck knows 🤷‍♀️

pea face

Pea face turned 9 months yesterday! 2 more weeks and she'll be out as long as she was in 🤣 I don't know why hitting 9 months feels different than the others but it does 😌 a little bittersweet for some reason

A little about Bea: She's crawling, standing, moving between objects, and eating like a hungry little monster. She loves going for car rides, waving, playing in her tub, getting in the garden, baking with mama, Gert, boobies, and anything @brandon.of.bjerke does. She is independent and snuggly, funny and observant, smart and explorative. When she needs something she let's you know (and you pay the price if you don't listen to her routine-- we're definitely testing her limits all the time) 😂 her meltdown cries sounds like a bag of angry cats and she is verrrry talkative when she's tired. If you have seen, she's really just the cutest. And we still don't see either of ourselves in this little one 😉