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Cruel, kind September

September 9, 2008

It’s a perfect early autumn day. Another perfect early autumn day, in fact. I can’t help but remember how I loved September so, last year. It’s usually my favorite month, the month of my wedding anniversary, the month of clear blue skies and the first fall leaves, the month of harvest’s culmination and of the anticipation of winter (I like snow).

And here’s the wonderful, painful thing. September is being spectacularly beautiful and kind just now; the weather is exactly what I imagined when I was hopeful and naive enough to imagine bringing a baby home. I imagined these very blue skies, this clarity of sunlight, this gentle crispness in the air when I looked forward to those precious early days when I would be able to stay home and marvel at Teddy all day. There are birds at my bird feeders, the moon is waxing pale and lovely, and the other night there was the first hint of woodsmoke in the air. In so many ways it’s just as I’d hoped, this September.

With the sorry exception that while I’m home all day now and for a little while longer, instead of nursing a new baby, I’m nursing the loss of one.

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