It's okay to not give all of yourself away

On Motherhood: A tragedy while we fell asleep together in the gray light listening to the thunderstorm.

It was August and the warm summer rain fell heavy outside. You were barely a month old, wrapped up safely indoors in the cocoon of our shared existence. We’d barely left the bed since I brought you home from the hospital — both healing from your journey Earthside. I remember listening to the rain in the trees and studying every inch your face. I remember feeling lucky to feel a love like this. I remember feeling safe and content and happy. 

Meanwhile, an entire community was being washed away. A flash flood had carved its way through the mountains and the town next to ours was under 19 feet of water. Two people died, 30 were missing, and 500 families were displaced. A tragedy while we fell asleep together in the gray light listening to the thunderstorm. 

Later, when we drove through the rubble of what was left, my heart ached for the people and what they’d lost. There were cars stuck in the trees, belongings hanging from power lines, and houses ripped from their foundation. The third-generation piano company now looked like a graveyard—70 water-logged pianos in a pile by the road. 

I had a box in the closet of clothes you'd outgrown. I wasn't ready to let them go, but I met a woman with a newborn baby boy who had lost everything in the flood. I wanted to teach you that sometimes we have to do things even if we’re not ready if it helps someone in need. 

You were playing on a rainbow blanket next to me when I pulled out the box from the closest. I held each piece of clothing against you to see you in it one last time before putting it into the giveaway bag. I had a small pile of pieces that I left out. A memory attached to each one—your sleeping face, tiny folded hands, and little feet. I put them in the bag last, one by one, and cried when the pile was gone. 

You were trying to teach me something, too.

"Be gentle with your heart, mama."

I hear you, my darling.

I wiped my tears with your onesie and kept everything in the memory pile. I still had a trash bag so full of clothes to giveaway that I could hardly tie it closed. 

It’s okay to not give all of yourself away. 

It’s okay to keep things for yourself sometimes.

Thank you for showing me that, my little teacher.