Y.

I love it when the light and shadows hit my wall like this.
It is perfect.
It doesn’t last.
But for a few minutes, I forget.

I forget about the babies I couldn’t have.
I forget about the friends who left me behind.
I forget about the times I almost choked from sobbing because I couldn’t
speak to anyone about how much it hurt to see babies with their mama’s.
I forget all this and feel safe.
Then the light begins to move.
I come out of my trance.
….
18 years later
…
I love it when the light and shadows hit my wall like this.
It is perfect.
It doesn’t last.
But for a few minutes, I remember.

I remember how much I used to hurt.
Like a wild and wounded animal, cornered.
Screaming for help.

I remember minimising my grief around others so as not to make them
feel uncomfortable.
Putting their emotions and wellbeing before my own.
I remember that although I’ve never had a baby, and never will, I am beyond loved
by my niece and nephew.
I remember that despite what I’ve gone through, I am resilient,
kind,
and loving.

To have survived the worst type of grief and still show up for myself every day with love makes me proud.
Then the light begins to move.
I sip my tea and thank the light.