Because I need to write.

This silence is too loud.

I wander the house, everything looks different with a baby in my arms, attached to me by this sling. I gaze at all the things that made up life before I came into this land, everything looks the same and yet will never be the same again. I put things down, I adjust books on shelves, I take dishes out of the dishwasher, I eat some porridge and still the silence deafens me. Who am I here and now?

The bomb has gone off, the dust still settles. Today is the first day of a new routine, a new world, new friends and new places to go. Fears swirl around as to when to go out, how far to venture. My body, still aching from the trauma of the explosion, itches for more but wisdom tells me to rest. I read the old old words that have held me so far in this world and tears well and slowly drip down my cheeks. How can we sing the songs of the Lord in a foreign land? And this land feels so foreign. Who is He here? Who am I here?

I feed our son. I hold him close. He snuffles into my chest and stares deeply into my eyes, studying my face as if to say: ‘Who are you?’ ‘What am I doing here?’ I echo his concern, his worried frown and I wonder at how normal yet strange this feels. This flesh of my flesh, this being created and grown within me, this new world in my arms.

This silence is too loud.

I find there is time to think, the ringing in my ears has stopped, time has slowed to normal again and I find there is a life to be built here. Slowly but surely. The urge to stare at familiar voices on the computer screen has dimmed. The all consuming consumption of West Wing has stopped and I no longer need CJ, Toby, Josh, Leo Josiah, Charlie, Abby, Donna and Sam to console me. Martyn Joseph still plays on the computer in front of me. Lyrics that threaten to undo me help shape this new place: “There’s still a lot of love round here, still a lot of love, still a lot of love round here…” “This house is dark, lets find a window.” “Whoever it was that brought me here, will have to come and take me home.”

Friends come and go, chocolate is eaten, tea is drunk, I read some of a book and am reminded that I can read, that some things haven’t changed in this new world I face.  The warm body still rests on mine and I wonder what tonight will bring. Long term feeding or sleep? Frustrated cries or contented sighs? The washing murmurs in the background, for now the boy sleeps and I reflect on the day.

I write. This is me. This is who I am. I write. I breathe. I love, I am loved. The songs of the Lord are still here in this foreign land. For now in this moment there is hope.

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4 Responses to Because I need to write.

  1. Mia says:

    Dear Kathy
    I feel your uncertainty and strange emotions. I still remember how I felt after my children were born and especially with the first one, I also had many, deep questions and fears. Today they are both grown men and I feel another uncertainty, that uncertainty to let them go, to take the back seat and allow them to live and love without my interfering and I find that very, very scary! I never had to do that since they were born and now I have to find a whole new me again! Praying for you!!
    Much love and blessings to you.

  2. Judi Hangen says:

    Hey I will tell you your life has changed. But it has changed for the best. All your highs and lows will be around this child. And as a mother whose 24 years old has moved home, she is loving every minute. You will never not think of him. But he is the joy and the future and the pain and the love. So just embrace it. And God gave you him. And I thank God every day for Jesse. Just let it happen. Because it will not matter how much you worry about it. Love you guys.

  3. Emma says:

    Praying for you hon xx

  4. Pingback: Tuesday | The Long Walk Home

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