May 21, 2012

Abbreviated Observations From the Other Side



My son was born and I have scarcely a word to write about it. A blinking cursor has stared me down for the better part of nine days and I'm not sure there has ever been a greater discrepancy between the amount of thoughts streaming through my head and the inability to put any of these impressions and observations into words. Perhaps this says enough.

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I thought seeing Leo would mean seeing Margot and it never occurred to me to think otherwise. The reason for his existence seemed inseparable from her, his life intrinsically fused to her life and death in a way that was concrete, a foregone conclusion. And then I saw him and I only saw him. He wasn't a continuation of Margot's story. He was just himself, without attachment, without her. His own revelation.

Margot is still present, as close now as before Leo, the foundations of her memory being built by the gifts she bestows, by the grief, by the transformative nature of experiencing her. If Leo has changed our grief at all, it's in the distraction of taking care of him, in the expansion of our hearts for another child.

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I forgot how long my mind has been living in the future. How long we have been waiting, biding our time, distracting ourselves, ticking days off the calendar before lunch time. Perhaps the greatest part about having Leo, other than the obvious, is the way we can be present again, fully here, without a future date branded onto our brains. It's like seeing the world in color again, without the future and the anxiety graying over everything.

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We were up last night, mother and father, around two in the morning, tending to our crying kids. While Leo struggled to learn the art of nursing, jerking and crying and latching on repeat, Stella woke up in a fit of tears. The moment almost felt sublime, miraculous really, two kids, crying in unison, both here, fully present in our home. I gave pause before tending to the eldest, thankful for this chance, for the added noise. The sound of their tears echoed off one another like sweet relief, the sun at the end of a long, gray winter.

27 comments:

Jamie said...

This is beautiful. Such a powerful glimpse into your world and all the dynamics.

Molly said...

My oh my... I can't say "ditto" and "yes, yes" enough! I relate to EVERY word here. Having so many thoughts but not sure what to say. And as I've told Kari, I felt my boys would be sooooo intertwined that I was taken aback about how separate they feel, in a good way. The whole living in the future thing was so us too. It seems surreal that we can live in the now without something looming. And caring for two?! Wow. There are no words. We have waited so long for that. I marvel at having two in the car and managing two in a store. Grateful, appreciative, etc... Those words don't do it justice. I napped with two of my children in the same room today, and it was an amazing feeling. Glad to hear an update. I think of y'all often. Love to everyone!

Josh Jackson said...

Thanks sis.

Josh Jackson said...

Love to you too Molly. Such a surreal experience, isn't? All of these emotions seem so individual but are so corporate in reality. Peace!

Merry said...

The thoughts and feelings from afterwards are extremely surreal. For weeks dh and I just kept falling asleep; we didn't realise we were so exhausted from the worry. And when we woke up, unscrambling the one boy from the other has become increasingly complex. I find it so hard to believe it all happened. It's like waking from a nightmare but the trick is trying not to forget even though I almost wish I could.

Gwen Jackson said...

I'm glad Leo is Leo. Margot is Margot and we will never forget her.

We'll be adding 9 hours to our lives today, crossing the Atlantic and the U.S. from east to west. Can't wait to get there to be in the mix of all that is life for you right now. Can't wait to hold Leo in our arms, something I so missed with Margot. Can't wait to play with Stella. Can't wait to hug you and Kari. See you soon!

Anonymous said...

I've honestly never before heard anyone express joyful gratitude over two kids crying in the middle of the night. Your new perspective is certainly a gift from your Margot. How beautiful! I'm sure that is a gift she will give to many of your readers as well, as you have articulated it so clearly.

Groves said...

Perhaps this says enough.

...ticking days off the calendar before lunch time.

The sound of their tears echoed off one another like sweet relief, the sun at the end of a long, gray winter.

*****

Dulcius ex asperis,

Cathy in Missouri

Tiffany said...

so very true. i often tell my husband that i feel like our little girl is teaching me how to live again. she is definitely putting the color back into our world. leo is amazing, and i'm so happy that he is here. thinking of Margot always...

Josh Jackson said...

Thanks Mom. Can't wait to have you here!

Josh Jackson said...

CIM, I really wish you would come out with a book or something. I think you have enough material to use just from all of the comments I see sprinkled around the web. Thanks for always stopping by.

Sweeter after difficulty,

Josh

Josh Jackson said...

Yes, it feels like we are learning to live again too, like we are young again, on crutches, healing but standing, learning to walk. Thanks for stopping by Tiffany.

Josh Jackson said...

Merry, we definitely wonder if this will happen with us too, later on, as the worry diminishes. Maybe having a boy after losing a girl will make the transition easier? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Thanks for stopping by!

Sapphira said...

Thank you for writing. Your words have always resonated with me, as they have brought to the light what I have felt deep inside. In this post, however, a difference stared at me...I look at Julia and I DO see Shoshanna. I know Julia is her own being, but her connection to Shoshanna is so strong for me. It's not a bad thing--just an observation. Maybe because they're both girls and look alike, maybe because she is my first living child to parent--I don't know. I do know that no matter what, your writing helps me a lot. Thank you, Josh. xoxo to all.

Natalie said...

Thank You...from a parent who has really not known your particular struggles...but has known them all the same.

There is gratitude and beauty in this post...which we all need reminders of in our life struggles.

I am so glad that Leo is here and that this is the post that we all get to read. Gratitude....life is hard sometimes, but oh SO rewarding and beautiful, when all of the stars align.

Love to all 4 of you.

Josh Jackson said...

Thanks Sapphira for your kind words and observations. I thought I would be feeling so much of what you do. Some days I wish I did, as I feel M slipping back to third. Maybe it is a girl-girl thing or a first living child thing? It's so hard to know with all of the variables in place. I'm so glad you shared here because I think so many probably feel similar to you.

We miss seeing you. Hopefully in June we can connect.

Hope's Mama said...

I don't think I realised just how much I appreciated living in the present, until I read this post. Certainly the 15 months waiting for Angus after Hope arrived and the nine months carrying Juliet, we were anything but present. But this is it now for us, this is the little life we've been waiting for and hoping for. And I feel so glad to be living it now, and in some way sharing it with you guys.
Welcome to the other side.
xo

Anonymous said...

Josh, Your posts move me and your perspective of life post-margot informs and even alters mine. Thank you so much, old friend. Andrea Summers

Mary Beth said...

It's amazing how you're just in it, right? I, too, am so often grateful for crying in the night, screaming at dinner, for exhaustion that comes from chasing two children. There are times when I'm grumpy, but mostly I'm just so thankful.

Glad to hear you guys are settling in. Sending lots of love as you navigate these new waters :)
xo

Josh Jackson said...

I'm glad to be sharing it with you too. There is something special about walking this road together, the mud and guts and pavement of it, and then sharing the joys and relief together too (and way too many pictures of our kids). :)

Josh Jackson said...

Andrea, I really appreciate your kind words here. Thank-you for stopping in!

Josh Jackson said...

Yeah I get it, especially after spending three years with Stella. The grumpiness and frustration and wits end certainly comes, but oh how it diminishes after losing a child. A gift from the land of the dead, I suppose.

Peace and love and I wish you posted more. :)

Josh

March is for daffodils said...

This is a beautiful, beautiful post. Simple and lovely and heartwarming. I long to live in the present again. I am happy you are.

Sofia said...

How calming to read your post as we wait in quiet, yet seemingly screaming anticipation for our second baby, 18 months after our first born died. I find myself trying to picture this baby, yet all I can imagine is Laurence at his 20 week scan, smiling, and looking just like his father, and then at term at 40 weeks looking so peaceful and beautiful. I know this baby is someone else, so I worry that I am tangled up in the grief and yearning for our son and I feel guilty because of our tentative quietness instead of the exuberant excitement and anticipation as a baby's arrival draws closer. This baby deserves this elation too yet it eludes me! I am too terrified to feel such abandoned joy. Then I reflect on this out of control Ego of mine, and gently remind myself that this baby has chosen us and knows we come with the baggage of our loss, the deep love and longing we have for our son, and the knowledge that we will fall in love with them too and appreciate them for who they are. Indeed a precious gift from the land of the dead that we will conquer any difficult moments with our child, just so hoping that the baby stays with us this time.

Very happy to hear you are enjoying your little family of 5 and continuing to find amazing connections with Margot. I aspire to have that with my family, to live in the moment and to hold Laurence in every pore of my being.

Thank you for your writing Josh.

Josh Jackson said...

Sofia, your words ring loud and clear. The screaming anticipation and tentative quietness you speak of are exactly what we went through, what I think all of us go through after loss. It is so raw and fraught with fear and love and hope. I hope, a mountain of hope, that you're new little growing baby makes it out alive.

Peace to you in these days, as you hold Laurence in your being, and hold hope for what is to come.

Josh

Anonymous said...

so great to read your post. and that you have your hands full!

i am so happy to read that he is his own revelation. you know, what you guys went thru, i can't see you thinking any other way but to link margot+leo together, but what you wrote was so true- he is here on his own. and so is margot, but in her own way. thank you for writing that.

your son! congratulations! and as always, remembering margot, and thining of stella, and kari, and you all. a beautiful family indeed.

Sofia said...

Thank you Josh,
Filled with your mountain of hope, and smiling gently at how this makes me feel. xxxx

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