When I started Life After Benjamin my intention was to write daily for a year, to record the moments of horror and grace that happen so quickly, so intensely, then are gone. This past week of travel I have missed days of writing. The Alana that existed before this pregnancy, before Ben’s death, would have held on to the failure, the unmet expectation and used it as a stick with which to batter my already grief-stricken spirit. The Alana that lives now, in this weakened body and more connected soul, is learning compassion and acceptance. Though there is an ache when I don’t write, I am able to acknowledge the reasons (time with friends I rarely see, exhaustion), forgive myself and return to the page with love at the next opportunity.

I can feel the old habits begin to surface, the should’s and supposed to’s. I’ve lived with them a long time and they are familiar companions. But I know they no longer serve me and I am learning to reach for the better thought, the better feeling. The warmth of forgiveness helps chase them away.

*****

In other news our newest niece has not made her appearance yet though she might decide to come today. I am hoping she is born before we board our plane in the wee hours of the morning. I am anxious to meet her, to experience whatever feelings come, to love her and welcome her to our family.

If I hadn’t miscarried in January I would be giving birth now too. If Ben hadn’t died I would be almost 30 weeks pregnant. The thought hit me again this morning as I watched Ada sleep, maybe if I wait a year or two, maybe if I get really healthy and see my acupuncturist through the pregnancy, maybe I could have another child. Despite the ache of it, the sense of impossibility that accompanies it, I’m not quite ready to let the hope go.