Third Full Moon
Isabella was born on the full moon. A week or so before she was born I looked up online when the full moon was in June. I thought that the chances she'd be born on it were slim, since she would only be 38 weeks. My entire pregnancy I assumed Isabella would be born after 40 weeks since I was born ten days after my due date and my two sisters were each at least five days overdue. It never crossed my mind that she would be born on the full moon and die before its appearance was drastically altered.
Tonight is the third full moon since her death. In July, we saw the moon while in Durango, Colorado, coming back from a road trip. In August, we walked around our neighborhood talking about an unexpected adoption opportunity while the blustery night whipped tree branches about, obscuring then revealing the moon in turn. In September, I took a walk with my middle sister and talked about the roughly two horrific months between my daughter's birth/death and her daughter's birth.
While we were still in the hospital several days after Isabella died, I saw the moon waning outside my window. Watching the moon first wane then wax following her death was the hardest lunar month I've ever viewed. Each evening I saw the moon continuing to change, visibly marking the passage of time that I did not have my daughter in my arms.
All of the moon phases we've witnessed since June remind me of the passage of time. The moon keeps waxing and waning, as it has for thousands of years. I sometimes wonder about the countless other parents who have watched the moon changing and think of their child. For many, the monthly menstrual cycle marks yet another month without the hope of a desired baby.
Some aspects of life are predictable, even after the future I anticipated was buried. Sometimes this continuity hurts. The sun rises each morning, reaches its zenith, then sets. Seasons come and go; summer officially began two days before her due date and autumn will begin the day Isabella would have been 15 weeks old. The credit card still needs to be paid each month. Our grass grows, as expected, and needs to be trimmed far more often than it actually is mowed.
When people ask me what days are hard right now, I answer, "Fridays, Saturdays, the 9th, the tenth, the 17th, and the full moon." Fridays - day she was born; Saturdays - day she died; 9th - day she was born; 10th - day she died; 17th - day she was buried; full moon - day she was born. That's roughly 40% of the month. Some month in the future we will not even notice these days, but not yet. Today is the third full moon since my daughter died, and it still hurts. Like crazy.
Tonight is the third full moon since her death. In July, we saw the moon while in Durango, Colorado, coming back from a road trip. In August, we walked around our neighborhood talking about an unexpected adoption opportunity while the blustery night whipped tree branches about, obscuring then revealing the moon in turn. In September, I took a walk with my middle sister and talked about the roughly two horrific months between my daughter's birth/death and her daughter's birth.
While we were still in the hospital several days after Isabella died, I saw the moon waning outside my window. Watching the moon first wane then wax following her death was the hardest lunar month I've ever viewed. Each evening I saw the moon continuing to change, visibly marking the passage of time that I did not have my daughter in my arms.
All of the moon phases we've witnessed since June remind me of the passage of time. The moon keeps waxing and waning, as it has for thousands of years. I sometimes wonder about the countless other parents who have watched the moon changing and think of their child. For many, the monthly menstrual cycle marks yet another month without the hope of a desired baby.
Some aspects of life are predictable, even after the future I anticipated was buried. Sometimes this continuity hurts. The sun rises each morning, reaches its zenith, then sets. Seasons come and go; summer officially began two days before her due date and autumn will begin the day Isabella would have been 15 weeks old. The credit card still needs to be paid each month. Our grass grows, as expected, and needs to be trimmed far more often than it actually is mowed.
When people ask me what days are hard right now, I answer, "Fridays, Saturdays, the 9th, the tenth, the 17th, and the full moon." Fridays - day she was born; Saturdays - day she died; 9th - day she was born; 10th - day she died; 17th - day she was buried; full moon - day she was born. That's roughly 40% of the month. Some month in the future we will not even notice these days, but not yet. Today is the third full moon since my daughter died, and it still hurts. Like crazy.
Comments