i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)


4 min read
07 Mar
07Mar

(note: a modified version of this post can be found on scary mommy here

E.E. Cummings once wrote,

"i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)"

His poem, "I carry your heart with me" other poets theorize, "is about deep, profound love, the kind that can keep the stars apart and that can transcend the soul or the mind.1 My mom gave me the poem as a board book for the youngest poet in the house awhile back, and as I read it, the words stuck in my conscious as only the strongest memories can.

Today, the quote came back to me again as I was suddenly confronted with my grief. Like a wind that gently changes direction on a sunny day to bring in the clouds, the grief came in. I found myself crying in the most particular of circumstances:  at an otherwise ordinary meeting. I wasn't sure when the wind had shifted direction or when the clouds had come in, but all of the sudden, there I was, mourning my daughter. 

There was nothing I could do but let the tears drip out of my eyes. I breathed deep and pushed the grief back in, down into my heart. I could have chosen to continue to cry, but it was not the time nor the place to reflect. It's been five in a half years since I last held my daughter in my arms. 

I have made a habit of telling my children that it is okay to cry. I am telling you, that it is okay to cry. Cry on the subway. Cry in a movie. Cry during a conference call. 

Let it Out. 

It is when our emotion is released that healing continues. Yet today, I didn't do that. I stuffed it in. Now, five hours later, I'm still hurting. Perhaps if I had let it out a bit more, grief would have lessened it's grip. The thing is, I knew what I was doing when I stuffed that grief down. I fell into old patterns of trying to be strong for the sake of everyone else. It never, ever, helps. I can't name one person that has ever hurt less by trying to be strong for others.

 If you're the type of person that does this, please stop. I spent the better part of the first month after my daughter died trying NOT to cry because everyone was crying around me. I felt like I had to be a "Role Model Loss Mom" yet no one assigned me the role besides myself.

 I was strong for the nurses when I was in labor, I was strong for my husband as she was born silently into this world. I was strong when I held her lifeless body in my arms, a warming blanket under her to keep her body warm. I sang her songs and talked to her about the life that would have been. We watched the sunrise together. If you had been walking by my room you never would have guessed that she was born still. The only thing that gave it away was the singular butterfly hanging on the door. For only the briefest of moments, she was me and I was her. We were together in this odd dimension of life and death. I remember asking my husband, "What else can I do?" as I held her. Wires were still connected to me letting the staff know of my heart rate. The IV line for the pitocin that had induced labor pushed her into this cold world was still in my arm. 

So, I sang. I marveled at her long feet (just like mine) and her stubby nose. I felt her long finger nails and I smelled her scent. Her face was a perfect round, and I couldn't stop looking at her. I had been so afraid of what she was going to look like. I thanked God openly for her features, the features that would have clearly told the world she had Down Syndrome. 

My perfectly-imperfect Daughter, (as I often refer to her) was a poster child of the physical traits of someone with Down Syndrome, and in the most tragic moment of my life it gave me such joy to see. 

I never got to see her eye color. The only photos we have of her eyes open are from 3D- sonograms. In the last sonogram photo that was taken her eyes are open. I like to think she was looking right at me, if only to allow me to have one more image to draw upon.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

We all carry someone in our heart that is no longer physically with us. Maybe it's a parent, maybe it's a sibling. Maybe it's your loyal dog from when you were growing up. Whomever it is, I promise you something. 

They are waiting for you. 

They are living in a land that far surpasses the beauty we have on Earth. They are joyful. They are loved. They are surrounded by loved ones from a thousand lifetimes (or however many they had) and pets from every time they were on Earth: goldfish, horses, parrots, hamsters, snakes. Whatever they loved- it's there. They are playing cards, eating pasta (not worrying about gaining a pound) and skiing down mountains where the snow never melts. It is their paradise, and it is very, very, REAL. 

Every once in awhile, they look up from the latest painting they are working on, and decide to come and visit you. They give you a hug while you are washing the dishes. They kiss your forehead as you sleep. They give your hand a squeeze as sit in a meeting. They see you living. Then, they are gone. Back to paradise. Of course they keep up with the latest developments in your life, which is why when you come sit with me for a reading, they can hop right in, ready to help you work and give you their thoughts on your latest tattoo. Their personality hasn't changed. They haven't stopped being your dad, your mom, your child. They are just in a different dimension right above ours. They are within a call away if you need them. 

Every single August around my daughter's birthday, she never fails to make an appearance. Every year she presents in a different way. This past year I thought she hadn't shown up, as her birthday came and went without anything "odd" happening. I was sad, but I hid it. (I admittedly need to work on showing my grief more.) The next morning my family and I got up to get ready and I went to put on my shoes. Something felt odd as I put them on, and I pulled the shoes off only to see a single penny in the bottom of the shoe. The day before I had worn the shoes all day and I had felt something odd. We were busy hiking, and it hadn't bugged me enough to check it. She had been there all along. 

Even though I am a psychic medium, I am at the end of the day, still a mom mourning her daughter. When I saw the penny in my shoe, it was the reassurance I needed. She knew that. 

Even psychics grieve. 

Your loved ones are constantly guiding you on your path, even loved ones that you have never met (or remember meeting.) Great-Grandparents will come by to check on their expanded family, and I've heard of one great-great-Grandparent that has sent signs to the children to let her whole family know she is alive and well. 

Don't discount what young children tell you. If your three-year-old nephew tells you that the Uncle Jake that died when you were 12 says, "hi" don't say, "he couldn't have possibly!" A reasonable answer would be, "thank you" but simply acknowledging it, is good enough. Allow the Universe to send you messages. It's waiting and willing

So, whomever you are waiting for a message from or about tonight, know the Universe is always working. Allow yourself to feel whatever emotion you are feeling: grief, frustration, exhaustion, sadness, joy. Accept it. Experience it. Allow yourself to move through the motion like a river that is flowing

My grief will always be next to me. Sometimes it's more silent than other times, but it's always there. I've made friends with it, but I haven't allowed it to fully bloom. I blamed myself for a long time for not being able to save her, and only a few people know what I sensed in the weeks before she died. Perhaps one day I will blog about what I felt, but today isn't the day to spill grief forth. Today is the day instead, to encourage all of you to feel, to accept, just as I'm starting to accept the bigger role it's starting to play as I continue working as an intuitive. I accept that I wasn't meant to save her. I accept that her role is being played right now, as I continue to learn lessons from her short life. 

What lessons have you learned from your loved ones that have passed? 

 I Carry your Heart With Me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

E.E. Cummings.2


With love,

Nancy

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