A dear friend messaged me to tell me it was Luca’s “inside-out” birthday.
Let me preface this post by saying how thankful that I am that she remembered, and that she reached out to me. When any of my friends contacts me remembering him, or sends me a picture or a thought that reminded them of Luca, my heart gets full. If you haven’t noticed any of the links of other loss families that I’ve posted, or read what I myself have written time and time again, this is the single best thing you can do for me and for Gina.
My mind is still boggled by how many times I have told people that I want them to feel comfortable in the discomfort of talking about Luca to me if it comes up for them, that it’s okay if they say his name and bring him up. It isn’t re-opening a wound. If any of you think there is a minute of my day that goes by where he isn’t on my mind, well you’re mistaken. He will always be there. I will always be missing my son with every physical limb, with every ounce of my life force, because he’s not in my arms, and because I don’t get to watch this beautiful life of his unfold in front of me.
It’s not like I’m going to shut up about it. (If you are my friend on Facebook, one of the many that has taken me off their feed because I’m uncomfortable to watch, but revisits every now and again, and somehow ended up on this button-pushing post, read it and don’t make a change or reach out to me, then please de-friend me now. )
I lost my son folks. I’m not sad all the time, but when I am, I have every F$%KING right to be. I also understand that it is in being in this sadness, and discomfort, that I will grow. Like Patanjali says in the Yoga Sutras, “anything burned out will be purified. The more you fire gold, the more pure it becomes. Each time it goes into the fire, more impurities are removed.” (notice how he talks about gold right? ahem….)
Every time I am in the discomfort, and sadness, I come out a little stronger. I come out a little more compassionate. I come out a little more loving to the experience. I come out a little more thankful to Luca D’oro. I come out a little less attached to that which doesn’t serve me.
But I digress, this post is about the “inside-out” birthday.
It’s called this, because today would mark that Luca has been outside of my body just as long as he was inside. Which really isn’t true on so many levels. He was there way before he was physically in my body. And he will be in my heart, and scientifically proven in my blood, for the rest of my life. His energy and his soul run through.every. piece. of. me.
My hope is that he will be in all our framily’s hearts as well. (thank you to Tayo and Tara to introducing me to the true meaning of friends as your family)
I think it’s a completely appropriate name for this birthday for me, because I feel like I’ve been turned completely inside out over the last 9 months. Moment after moment, lesson after lesson, through the tears, through the smiles, through the goodness I can see in the world, just as much as all the sadness I see in the world; I get turned more inside out.
The last 9 months, I have put it all out there. I have shared my vulnerability with anyone, really, who was willing to sit down and listen, brave my Facebook posts, or follow me on instagram.
And you know what? It’s been extremely healing for me. I have not avoided my grief. I have not pushed it away or shoved it under a carpet. I opened up and shared the way I did, because to be honest, it was a cry for help, and it was all that I could figure out to do.
In order to survive.
I’m still here. So I guess it worked. (insert happy face and thumbs up emoticon) .I got turned inside out, and I let it all come out. I let my freak flag fly, as they say.
I will continue to do it as I see fit. I will continue to do it, to let other baby loss mamas know that they are not alone and that they do not have to suffer quietly in their minds. To show them their children will remain a part of the core of their own existence, for the rest of their lives. And to cry out for help.
I will do it, so that my family , including Luca’s siblings, that will hopefully some day soon enter our lives here on earth, will always remember Luca, and know this great driving force behind us to live our days to the fullest.
9 months. It’s really just the beginning. Thank you my sweet son. On your birthday, I wish I could kiss those perfect lips just one more time.