Sunday, April 12, 2009


Every movie seems to have the death of someone's child in it.

Disney movies are notorious for knocking off mommies, but then every other movie knocks off someone's kid. It isn't surprising, I guess, because death is just one of those philosophical issues with which humanity will always wrestle. And honestly, now that I am a dead baby mama, I just see every death as the death of someone's kid. The modus operandi of any Bruce Lee seems to be to kill off someone's kid every fight scene. I discovered that today when Enter the Dragon became my nap time movie choice. I switched it off for Evening. Someone's kid dies in that one too.

Today is Easter. Another story about a woman's son who died. But three days later, he rose from the dead. Is that what makes this holiday so beautiful...the wishfulness of it all? Freedom from death, suffering, in fact, a release of all suffering through one death. A religion that allows our children to live forever in paradise is a beautiful religion. I have always loved Lent and the Lenten period, the build up until Easter. I actually think Good Friday is my favorite Catholic day, if you can use favorite without a sort of heretical undertone. I just mean, it used to be the most intense spiritual day for me. I would feel most connected to my religion, back when I was a Catholic. I love fast days, the solemnity of the quiet, the rawness of the feeling of fasting.I think what moves me about fasting in the Catholic definition is that we eat one meal where no meat is consumed. No death. Nothing is sacrificed. Of course, most Catholics eat fish on Fridays and Good Friday. It never made sense to me, but if I were in charge of the Catholic Church, things would be a lot different. But I'm not even touching that shit.

Since Lucy died, I have cut my consumption of meat to almost nothing. I just can't stomach the idea of eating someone's child. It sounds ridiculous when I write it, but death death death, it is everywhere. And yet, I still cook it for Sam, still get my hands bloodied. I hate it. I am so tired of death. Back to Good Friday, I used to get choked up during the Stations of the Cross, which is intensely sad, beautiful, selfless story--the Passion. It humbles me. Sometimes I miss Catholicism, not for the faith, but for the ritual. The ritual is beautiful, and I wax poetic about it often. (Poor Sam.) On Saturday, the altar in the Catholic Church is stripped bare, and no mass is given, rather it is an intensely silent, dark time in the church. And the truly devoted pray the rosary in silence. It makes me shudder. I have only attended once, and it was intense.

This year, I forgot about Easter. Well, not completely, because last week I bought Beatrice some baby animals thinking I might decide to tell Beatrice a giant rodent wearing a pastel ascot is coming into our house in the middle of the night to fill her basket with candy and toys. I debated it in my head--to Easter Bunny or not to Easter Bunny? When I put it like that, it seems silly, and yet, this is what childhood is about myths, traditions, holidays, silliness...but something about this year makes me not want to tell her or myself that there is magic in the world. Giant bunnies (can we say Night of the Lepus anyone?) aren't breaking and entering this year. This year, Mama is giving a gift of baby animals because Spring is here, and things are born. And sometimes, that is enough reason for a gift.

Of course, there is another reason, a more practical reason, we adopted Jack yesterday, and well, I just forgot I was supposed, without further ado, young Jack the dog:


  1. This is a very interesting way to look at Easter. I suspect only us babylost Mamas could ever really look at it this way.
    And I too look at movies differently now, whenever I see someone die. It is always someone's baby.

  2. ohhhhhhhhhh, and Jack is so cute!!!

  3. I have nominated you for the Sisterhood Award. Your blog has helped me relize that we are not alone. Thoughts and Prayers to you!

  4. I so wish I could make the Catholic thing 'all better' for you. It saddens me that it brings you more pain than good.
    I've been thinking about you during my absence, hoping and praying you find peace.
    I love Jack.

  5. Oh, dear, sorry to make it sound like Catholicism brings me any pain. It doesn't. I think it is an incredibly beautiful religion. I am actually deeply grateful to have been brought up Catholic, and so much of the ritual is so ingrained in my being that it is almost inseparable. In fact, my degree is in Religion, partially because I could not become a priest, and thought was calling was to be a mother, not a nun, but alas...Catholicism rejected me, rather than the other way around. I was indirectly excommunicated by not being allowed to participate in sacraments. I think like most Catholics I always wrestled with faith, but so has 2/3rds of the priests I have met. But I think faith is defined by its doubt, otherwise it would be knowledge. I have always respected the religion too much to 1. not tell my truth and 2. follow its rituals without believing in its some of its major tenets. My soul just feels much more Buddhist than Catholic these days, though I read Catholic thought often. One of my major areas of interest at university was theodicy--primarily Catholic philosophies about reconciling the existence of suffering with a just God. Sadly, I could talk about this all day, because well, it is my raison d'etre to talk of religion. Anyway, no, I love Catholicism, but Catholicism does not like me. I have a similar relationship with eggs.

  6. Some days I walk down the street and see everyone, regardless of age, as someone's child. Someone's child who didn't die. And I just can't get my head around how the hell all those people managed to be born.

  7. Hello, I came over from Blogger Bingo. I am so sorry for the loss of your baby girl. I lost my son in July. *hugs*

    I really enjoyed your post. I am Catholic and always understood the meaning behind Easter, but you really gave me something to think about and really appreciate. Thank you.


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