The heart of a mother…
When I was pregnant with Evan, I underwent a pagan right of passage called a Trimester Ritual. Part of this ritual was recognizing that a women’s pregnancy is divided into three trimesters as is her life, well typically. So part of the trimester ritual is giving you a candle representing each of these three phases that you are supposed to burn while in labor. A white candle to represent the maiden, purity, innocence. A red candle to represent the mother, the menstrual blood that come’s signaling that a girl is a women. Then a black candle to represent the ceasing of said menstrual blood and the movement out your fertile phase of life. That’s a very superficial overview anyhow. These things run much deeper but I could be here all day.
Here are the candle’s pre-labor in Evan’s nursery.
Anyhow the point of this is that we lit our candles while I labored at home, then we had to put them out as the midwife rushed us to the hospital when she could not locate a fetal heartbeat. After I got home I hated those candles, I felt they had failed me, failed to protect my baby. I didn’t know what to do with them.
This week I decided it was time to finish burning them down, to accept that Evan is gone and that there is no bringing him back. So I lit them and the way in which they burned is significant to me and thus I took pictures to commemorate. The maiden candle burned down at the speed of light, disappearing before my very eyes. Gone in a flash, much like my innocence and youthful lust of life. The mother candled burned down in second, the crone candle lingering behind. Staying put. That crone candle, which to me represents death, it still burns slowly away, staying behind long after the other two have completely gone. Like the candles, most days I feel like death is all I have left of Evan.
However, the love the exists in the heart of a mother can never truly be extinguished, and my candle agrees. Here is how I found the wax.
Magic I tell ya, magic!! I love my Evan so much.