Nine Months Is A Valentine

How a Mother’s Love Became an Eternal Valentine

Nine months is a Valentine for grief that imparts when a mother departs.

Kellen

In 1990, Valentine’s Day took a new meaning for me. My Mother passed 31 years ago on Valentine’s Day, nine months after her cancer diagnosis.

Nine months. Same length of time she carried me in her womb, when our bodies were one. My very first creative growth cycle and spiritual transformation. In her womb.

This photo was taken on our first Valentine’s Day after I was born. Today, for first time, I realized I spent first Valentine’s Day in my mother’s womb.

Nine months, then I left womb body. Birthed into physical realm. Began life.

Nine months, then Mom left tomb body. Birthed into spiritual realm. Began Life.

31 years later, when I close my eyes and breathe into my heart, I feel my mother breathing with me. Like we did for nine months together. When her body sheltered, nourished, and protected me.

Tonite, finishing my first book manuscript, a collection of poems, I feel my Mother helping me birth my first book. “Push, push...you can do it.” Just like she birthed me into this world, she helps me birth poetry onto page.

Now in a spiritual realm, my Mother has become my creative doula. Pushing me now, like she did with elementary science projects, tap dance recitals, keeping a journal, student council, first chair trumpet in symphonic band, college exams, and my first corporate job.

Nine months is womb of magic and mystery. The supreme unmanifested space of pure divine unlimited creative potential. Where the desire to love and be Love reaches into wombs, and extends beyond tombs.

Nine months is a Valentine. Thanks, Mom.