So this morning I came across this very powerful cartoon... http://theoatmeal.com/comics/plane
It hit me so hard. Go read it before continuing here or this might not make much sense!
The image of the plane descending, uncontrollably, on fire...if you haven't walked in my shoes this might sound overdramatic: but this is exactly, exactly, exactly how the last two years have felt. Orion's death and birth, completely out of my control but clothed in a measure of grace. Continuing on almost instantly to Iris's pregnancy...total chaos and surrender. Tumbling through the night sky, heading for earth at a frightening un-survivable speed. Time standing still as mortality hangs thick in the air. Feeling completely helpless...not being able to save my children or myself, only being able to hope for a miracle and fight like hell to do whatever I could to give us the best chance possible. Knowing that I had zero control over any of it. That my "best" was not good enough. Mortality, death, is not something we can outwit. I could not save my son, and it was not me who saved Iris. I laid on that operating table as they pulled her out of me wondering which one of us was going to die, or if it was going to be both of us this time.
It has changed me. It just went on so long...I couldn't just get through it and move on. I had to learn how that blind burning freefall was not something I had any control over and no power to avoid. And then I had to continue with that helplessness every single moment of every single day. I had to transform, mid-crash. That burning airplane became my chrysalis. Because that was my only choice: chrysalis or coffin. It had to be one or the other. Either I transformed, and held onto the essential grains of truth of who I am, or I died. There was no walking away from this plane crash.
I grew some pretty delicate wings. It has been a struggle to understand what happened and where I am now. Who I am now. Its hard to know how these clumsy wings work.
But when I forget everything else and submerge myself entirely into the joy of the moment with my girls, I soar. When I reach out to other families facing loss, I fly. When I remember to take a deep breath instead of yelling at my husband, I am worthy of those wings. As my photography grows, it is revealing me to myself. And so the choice is made again and again, a million times a day: chrysalis or coffin? Which will it be? Its hard work to transform and fly. So it is something I struggle with. There are butterfly pictures being taped to walls in my house, as reminders. There are quotes and inspiration everywhere, because I need them. I need to remember that there is goodness, and strength, and bravery all around and I can be a part of that.
