SURVIVAL

by Caitlyn Siehl

This is how we survive: 

We survive. 

I have learned that there aren't tricks

for breaking the fingers

of the things that choke us in our sleep.

There aren't remedies that take away

heartache without the word "time"

written sympathetically across our therapist's face. 

We survive by surviving.

We do it unconsciously, 

the way our bodies remember to

breathe, even when we're asleep.

The first step is always deciding

to take the first step.

The second step is miserable

and we usually trip down the stairs, 

then wait months before climbing back

and starting again.

What I'm trying to say is, be patient.

What I'm trying to say is, I don't have the answers.
my bones tell me to sing when I'm lonely, so I do.

I sing and I don't think of him or his hands.

On days when everything feels

like a eulogy, walk slowly, and don't wear black.

Don't let this be a funeral.

Teach yourself to navigate the wound

and take note of all the places

you see along the way, like the park bench

with your initials carved into it, 

or the weeping willow that is tired of crying. 

There will be months that try to swallow

you whole, with fangs that pierce your chest

like a bullet.  Look for the exit wound.

Look for the Hallelujah chorus

at the other end of your skin.

It has come and gone and now everything

is a symphony.

"I pray for more reckless, pure passion that ferociously beats against our walls – swoops in and captures us. And we wake every morning to give more of ourselves, and, in turn, receive the reward of watching abundant life swallow everything that has to die to loose the freedom we were made for." - Taryn Phaneuf

new beginnings:

I've been wanting to put my experience of pregnancy, birth, motherhood into words for months now, but for the first time in my life I realized I was going through something I couldn't find the words to express it all.  But this is how I process things, at least this is the first step of processing things usually, get it out and sort through it later, so here goes nothing. 

Becoming a mother has been the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. And I don't say that lightly..I've had some pretty challenging experiences in my day.  Motherhood seems to be the most paradoxical happening that can grip a person's life.  It is the most beautiful transformation to take over someone (and people will tell you over and over throughout your pregnancy that, "its a beautiful thing!" usually when their hand is on top of your bulging belly), yet the reality seems anything but beautiful as it screams, "I haven't showered in three days," or when you realize you're spending the majority of your life in your pajamas and probably even in your bed, but you still have bags under your eyes, or when you're sobbing alongside your sweet, beautiful and perfect baby-- that, at the moment, at 3:am, is kind of making your life a little hellish. The reality is stretch marks, loose skin, a scar or a marred body that despite your best efforts- will never be "the same as it use to be." 
The reality is exhaustion. And yet somehow, in spite of itself, yields incandescent bliss. 
 It is the most rewarding thing I have ever gone through and every day I wake up, I, like every other mother in the world, convince myself that I love my child more than anyone has ever loved another person before. 

I never really had any intentions of being a mother.  In  my more day-dreamy moments I had hoped to be a mother one day (at least another 5 years down the road) because I knew were I to have a child, they would be the love of my life, but I definitely did not expect to be where I currently am:  Raising a baby alone, inhabiting that awkward space within my circle of friends, where half of my friends are single, and the other half are moms like me, but going home to a husband instead of an empty bed.


I could write about how hard it is all day... the unsolicited comments and advice, the judgement (its going to happen no matter what you're doing), the loneliness, the doubt - "am I an okay mother?"or  "I feel like I must be doing something wrong, am I doing something wrong?" and "are they supposed to smell like that?!" 
But I could write about how great it is for even longer, and I've been told I haven't even hit the good stages yet.  (Okay, I'll list a few since I just have to =) ) the moment I met my sweet Max the first time. the gassy smiles. The first bath. The moment his umbilical cord fell off and I yelled "Finally, thank God!" (and then cried because 'he's getting older!'), the sleepy smiles. the happy-just got fed- version of baby. The first time I realized that I look at Max all day, and still somehow manage, every single time, to think:
He's mine. I can't believe he's mine. 

The greatest gift motherhood has given me has been that it constantly shows me how desperately I need my savior, how desperately I need something much bigger than I to rely on. Circumstances dictate that I do this alone, but I know better- I know that I can't. 
I know that I'm nowhere near the woman and mother I want and need to be for my son, and that the biggest thing separating me from this self- is my (wounded but resilient) pride.  I know that in order to be free of myself, God is going to break me, and it is going to hurt. So in all of the hardships now, I find myself praying that he do just that; break me, mend me, break me again.  none of the hardships or pain or regrets go wasted, everything He uses to show He has a plan that I can't even imagine right now. My friend posted this the other day, and I really love this quote from it, I believe it sums up motherhood so eloquently: 

"Motherhood teaches women the imagery and language of the gospel on an intensely personal level. How appropriate the intertwined imagery of childbirth and the Cross: the necessary spilling of blood for the commencement of life, great loss holding hands with great gain. "

So here's to new beginnings: 
the kind I've been given to wake up every morning to. 


"And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”