Now Six Months Ago

Brian and I and the dogs hiked up Mud Lake today to spread Ari's ashes. We have hiked to this spot many, many times. In fact, Brian and I had one of our first falling-in-love moments there. Sitting up on a large boulder, Brian played the guitar and sang a song he wrote. After, I pulled out a note I had written for her:

Dear Ari: Six months ago today our tears began. We were sad, so deeply sad. We were shocked, so deeply shocked. After our nine months together as a family, you were lost to us. We could not hear your cries. We could not feel your soft skin. You were a daughter lost and we were parents lost. We never once stopped loving you, but in the midst of our pain we could not find you. The last six months have been so hard in so many ways. Trying to build a house to make a home, trying to keep me and Brian together, trying to get in one piece again. We have struggled with drinking, out of control emotions, friends not understanding. We have hidden from our pain, been numbed by it. Yet, still at other times, we dove head first into the pain; embraced, surrendered, accepted it. Then only to backlash with anger and sorrow. This entire struggle has had one sole purpose. And that is to find you again. This time not wiggling in my womb but somewhere else, somewhere less immediate, less tangible, but yes, still there.

It makes me so happy, so deeply happy, and full, so deeply full to say that I have found you again and you have found me. We are no longer lost to each other. I talk to you with ease and trust. I see you in the clouds, in young girls, in dandelion tufts, in moths, in wind, in storms. I see you there- I feel you there. And I know you can feel me. I cherish getting to know you deeper and deeper.

Today, June 2nd, 2006, we spread your ashes at Mud Lake. From this spot you can see all of Victor, and from all of Victor you can see this spot. We spread your ashes and are reminded of your beautiful tiny body. We spread your ashes and release your body and soul fully and completely into the universe. We are happy for you to be free. We spread your ashes here but know you are everywhere- inside and out. Even though we are moving to Maine, we know you will always accompany. But, here, at Mud Lake, will always be a special spot, every time we visit or Liv and the dogs come for a walk. May your rich ashes bring nutrients to this soil. May the trees here grow taller towards the sun. May the wind carry your ashes down to the alfalfa fields below. May they land in the Teton River and flow to the ocean. May you touch every part of life and bring your riches along. Your ashes have been close by these months- in hand, in bed, by bed, on the windowsill. And now today we are ready to share you with all the world. We love you more than I ever knew possible and are blessed to also feel your love. Be Free My Sweet Arianna.

We kept a button that made it through the cremation and a teaspoon of ashes. These along with a piece of sage and a heart-shaped rock are now in her box. Brian and I had a good cry and a good smile.

Memories

15 December 2006
My dear Child Arianna: I am filled with your sadness today- sadness for you, from the loss of you. My body misses you inside me. Eating is different, singing different, sleeping different, knowing you are not inside to receive. I wanted to make a list of some of the things we did in our nine months. These are my memories, our memories. I cherish them. [Not in order]

Nana and Arnie's wedding, a rainy week in Maine, kayaking the Teton River, visiting Yellowstone, crossing Fox Creek by rope, traveling to California, Thanksgiving, baby shower weekend, wetland fieldwork, babysitting Major and Blaze, setting up your crib with Brian, prenatal visits with our midwives, modeling for an art class, making your Christmas present, evening stretches and readings with Brian, collecting the supplies you would need, camping in Palisades Lake, Brian and I moving into the Birdhouse, then moving into Joe Casey's house, playing with the neighbors dogs- Lamar and Philip, weekend retreat to Spring Creek Ranch, getting Max the cat, Jack the dog running away, Brian's baseball games, weekend camping at the Green River Lakes.

We had a good time Ari

Remembrance Ceremony

We had a remembrance ceremony for Ari on December 5th, 2006. A small group, including my mom and two sisters, Brian's mom and sister, our three midwives, and several close friends, gathered in the early morning chill in a place called Moose Creek. We gathered in a circle around a sage fire each holding a small pink candle. The creek provided a calming background noise, as I started the ceremony with some words for Ari. My mom spoke next, followed by my sister, who wrote down her words:

"Sweet Ari: You have blessed our family and graced our lives. Your peace and its purity are truths kissed to our cores. As you embark on your journey, rest assured you come from great strength and infinite love. Look behind you- you will hear us smile. Look to your left and to your right- you will feel your mother and father's hearts. Look ahead and you will see your path is lit and the journey bright."

Others shared their prayers and our close friend Molly sang. Molly is a soulful woman with a soulful voice. I don't remember what the song was or any of the words- but the feeling was unforgettable. Her notes sifted into our bodies and lifted us up. I focused on the soft line between the forested hills and the cloudy winter sky. My hands shook from the cold and my chin quivered on the brink of tears. But Molly sang with power and calm, unwavering and steady, holding us all there together.

Still others added to our ceremony and Brian concluded. He and I went on a short walk through the woods and headed home for some quiet time. It was said later by more than one, that the smoke from the fire blew in the direction of whoever was speaking, slowly shifting around the circle. True or not, we all felt Ari there and she felt us too, I know.

These Last Few Hours

28 November 2006
These Last Few Hours
By Dee Dee McColl

It is important to me
that I spend a part of the next few hours
along with you in the darkness.

You and I
will never be this close again.
By morning
you will be a tiny person all your own.
No longer the kicking, demanding
bulge in my body
that I have grown so love so well.

I pray that god will safely guide you
on your journey tonight,
and ask him for the strength
to help you all I can.

Again you signal
your impatience
to be free.
Time to wake Daddy.

28 November 2006

Dear Riley or Arianna: Winter is filling the valley as I write. You remain in my womb, only days remaining. We are ready for you to join the rest of the world, whenever you are ready. Just wait until you see all that awaits you- our universe is so much more amazing than the tiny world of my belly. I cannot wait to introduce you and watch you navigate through. I cannot wait to gaze at your face and touch your baby hands. I cannot wait to receive all you will teach me and hopefully provide you with knowledge too. Even though we now share the most intimate of relationships, I cannot wait for my eyes to fall to yours. Truly miraculous, my miraculous child. See you soon! -Mom

September 2006

5 Septermber: Today some bad news of death- Nick's mom passed. It is not this morbid thought I wish to share, but rather, the sense of living that I was reminded of today- you growing in my soft round belly. I am so full of gratitude for you- your creation, your energy, filling my space. Thank you baby! We also met Michelle, a midwife, who will likely helpy you into this world. I love you!

20-24 September: Your first trip to California!

June-August 2006

3-9 June: Your first trip to Maine!
14 June: The first book I read to you is "With Love: 10 Heartwarming Stories of Chimps in the Wild" by Jane Goodall. I don't think you can hear yet, but oh well, I am sure you are getting it in one way or the other. -Mom
20 August: Dear Baby, I had a wonderfully vivid dream of you last night. You were a girl. Every time I entered the room, your face and whole body would light up. It felt so good and loving. You have really started kicking now- mostly in my right rib cage. Brian has felt you too. You feel so real. I rarely feel alone sitting in an empty room, as your presence is more full now. I went to Kat Willcox's baby shower on Friday- some already mothers, some babies, some expecting this winter too. Tomorrow we find out if we are headed to Maine or stay here. Either way you will be happy, I know. I love you my baby!

9 May 2006

Dear Baby: Jack, our puppy, and I are cuddled on our new couch under one of you soon-to-be baby blankets. Your Grandmother, Nana, got it at a used clothing store. Imagine the history we are continuing. I threw up today- only the second time. So I guess you are being pretty easy on me. Its been two weeks since the first ultrasound. It was almost unreal to see you there- so foreign looking from what I expect humans to look like. But you didn't feel foreign. I felt so comfortable, laying there on the doctor's table, just gazing at you, hearing your heart, watching you wiggle. Where did this energy that is you come from? From what spark, electricity, whirlwind did you come to find my belly? When the ultrasound was over, I wanted to stay with you. But then I remembered you are still with me and I am still with you. I want so badly to hold you but it is also true, I hold every part of you in every part of me every day. And I shall for the rest of my life. Brian is distracting me and bed time it is. I love you my little one. -Mom

11 April 2006

I started a journal for Ari at the start of my pregnancy. My intention was to record her milestones, my feelings as she grows older, cute things she did and said. I would have given this to her at some appropriate point- her 18th birthday, the birth of her own child. These are excerpts:

To my dear child: You rest deep in my belly, an unexpected addition to my body, making every inch richly sacred. Truth be told, you are not unexpected, as my heart has felt your arrival for some time now- premonitions, yearnings, dreams. For some time now, the seed that is now you has been actively present. For some time now, perhaps in reality forever, I have loved you ever so largely and wholly. You are my coming home- coming home to my ancestors who have, over the millenniums, traveled the journey of motherhood; coming home to rediscover myself as a woman; coming home to a physical nest that I will create for our family for our lives. You have taken my body, making it sacred, magical, and creative, for you my dear child are sacred, magical, and creative. I love you, mom.