Building Endurance

In the days before Cecilia was born, I asked my older sister if she thought that Cecilia would bring us pain relief. She said she thought it wouldn’t be much better but it would be better than the abhorrent limbo in which we were all suspended between the death of Lizzy and the birth of Cecilia. When Cecilia was born, I called her an anesthetic because for her entire birthday, May 5, grieving Lizzy was suspended. The next day, I called Cecilia an analgesic: pain relief rather than the pain killer she had been the day she was born.

Cecilia has continued to be an effective source of pain relief to me, but since she is a newborn, there are hours upon hours at a time when she is either sleeping or nursing in which I am left to my thoughts, however dark they are. And then when I must attend to Cecilia, I am drawn back down, out of the shadow world in which I float, immobile, between death and life. I am summoned to change diapers or nurse or walk or eat so that I may care for her. And it keeps me tethered to this reality.

In another day, Cecilia will be exactly eight weeks old, which means it will be three months since I lost Lizzy. Three months of living when life should no longer be possible and three months of nurturing a new life at its most fragile stage. Three months of becoming accustomed to the shape and spectrum of my life as it stands now–of becoming accustomed to the horror of Lizzy’s absence.

In my post last night, I discussed our ability to adapt to ongoing, sustained horror. This is what is happening to me. The weight of grief has not changed; my ability to carry it is what is changing. Any one who works out understands that building muscle or building endurance takes extreme conscientious effort over a period of time.

And so I am beginning to understand the nature of grief in a new way. Grief remains the same; it is not so much stagnant as immortal. Grief causes you to transcend the lines that separate life and death; as a result, you learn to live in-between. But grief remains a mystery which is also a burden, and with time, you learn to live closer to that mystery and you build endurance in carrying that burden. Perhaps grief is a muscle that you use, unwillingly, constantly. And this muscle, regardless of whether or not you want it to, grows stronger every day simply because you do not stop using it.

I am trying to understand the changing nature of unchanging grief because I am trying to understand what is happening to me. I find it easier to focus on Cecilia these days. She is growing more interactive with each passing day, and the maternal instinct is so strong that I naturally respond to her without thinking much about it. Cecilia does bring me joy, and when she makes me laugh, the laughter is real.

Does she remind me of Lizzy? God, yes. In every breathing and blinking moment. But though she is so like her sister, she is also herself, and I am learning her, as she is learning me. The process is as natural and intuitive as it was with Lizzy, and Lizzy’s absence is not lessening it, but making it more poignant. I am not wasting a single moment with Cecilia, because I know intimately how quickly she can be taken away from me.

But Lizzy is still on my mind and in my heart in every waking moment. I think of her constantly. I do not exaggerate when I say this. I am literally always referencing or remembering or desiring Lizzy. It is ceaseless. And this ubiquitous suffering is growing an endurance in me that I do not fully understand and did not expect. I have to be here for Cecilia, and desiring to give her as much wherewithal to be in this world as possible is a driving force. But an equally overpowering desire is to be with Lizzy, which can only be achieved at the end of my life. Is caring for Cecilia a path to Lizzy? If being Cecilia’s mother is what I am being called to, then the answer is yes. Loving Cecilia is working for and towards Lizzy. Building endurance to carry this grief enables me to love Cecilia better. Loving Cecilia will one day bring me to the end of this life.

And it will make sure that the time I am required to spend here has not been wasted.