|"Brynn" painted by Candace Cotterman|
Today is Brynn's birthday. She would be three. For the past three years, the days leading up to January 29 have been splattered with PTSD triggers, sending me back to those first horrible moments. That was some deep grief. But it doesn't feel bad to relive it. It feels good. Because looking back, I can see myself crossing the threshold to a more authentic style of living. I gave myself permission to say "Yeah, I know my baby girl just died but I'm not being sad about it in this moment. I'm being irreverent because it feels good, it lightens the air, it relieves the pressure. If you can't handle it, go cry somewhere else." I gave myself permission to let this movie reel of my life be about me.
I gave myself permission to speak to the dead. I gave myself permission to listen to the dead. I gave permission to buy myself little gifts, trying on for the first time an abundance mentality.
These permissions led to other permissions, releasing my spirit, little by little, to experience more joy in life. Those word don't convey how significant this is. MORE JOY IN LIFE!
Attracting to myself a circle of women that would blow your mind.
Inside of me, Brynn was a crazy baby. It feels like I must have made this up, it's so unbelievable, but at her 20 week ultrasound we saw her repeatedly trying to kick her legs over her head, front walk-over style.
In the last days, she would kick me so hard, I could feel, and see, her foot sticking out of my belly. She was a strong and vivacious girl. And her spirit is so effervescently light. Like fizzy pink lemonade.
My sister-in-life Kate had a dream about Brynn last week. They were playing with a litter of puppies together. Brynn shared with her this wisdom: Gather for yourself the compassion, the joy, and the fun of living as though you were playing with puppies. Give to yourself the love and sweetness that a puppy would evoke. Essentially; be the puppy.
I woke up with a call to action this morning: Play. Celebrate Brynn today with play. We went sledding down the driveway before school.
Today I give myself permission to admit to you, and to myself, that I am so grateful that this is my life. I am so freaking grateful for Brynn. For who she is. For what she teaches me. Today I tell you that I would not change a thing. Happy Birthday, lovey.