A peculiar thing has been happening lately.
People, either in person or via private message, have been reaching out to hug me and to say,
“I’m so sorry [for your loss].”
It’s true that when I am confronted with images of other people’s brand new babies or talk of another person’s pregnancy, I still harbor a desire to give birth to a girl child but, mainly, I feel like I have gained a lot from my most recent miscarriage experience.
Perhaps, it was because of how fully I documented and engaged with my process that I now feel full and, definitely, not empty.
(Although I did experience my womb space has immediately barren in the days following our bloody ordeal.)
After gratefully receiving these condolences from others, I have shared with a few about how I feel I have gained so much – even in the face of my loss.
One Mama Sister Friend asked me how and what I have gained, so I thought I would share more here.
Death is its Own Medicine.
With my three year old son in tow, I bow before it and thank it for sparing other parts of my life – some of which I can not bare the thought of losing.
“Thank you, Teacher.”
Standing in my backyard, I gaze down, and see a purple rock – the word Lila emblazoned in white upon it – as it sits in
our Garden of Loss. I painted that rock to commemorate the 7 week-old energy that, I believe, sacrificed Her body so that I could harness the urgency of this Now.
The start of my last pregnancy, which began in September, had me waking at 3 and 4am. It was an immediate, internal alarm clock going off – just once and without any resistance from me. So, up I would go – padding around our fall yard, readying the space for birthday celebrations and our home-based cooperative.
Even as I began to surrender to how crummy I also felt – a deep hacking cough emanating from my lower, right lung – I still rose before the sun and wandered out under the stars to identify familiar constellations and to witness a setting Moon.
When we gathered in Sisterhood for my “Ceremony of Release & Renewal,” a Priestess (the same mama sister friend who helped to call in my son’s Soul when he reached day #120 in my womb) shared that the bright, light energy of the recently past embryo was still surrounding me and that I needed to fully release it. Immediately, I felt sad as well as scared that I wouldn’t be able to integrate the life lessons that this life force energy brought with it.
Instead, in a moment of clarity and power, I chose to commit to myself.
“I can do this,” I thought.
“I can wake before the rising sun,
so that I can sing my unique, morning song.
And so that I can gather precious energy from time spent in solitude and darkness,
while sowing my own form of meditative seeds – by gently stretching or dancing, quietly singing, writing or doing work that I simply can not accomplish when my 3-year old son is around.”
With this thought, I then released “Lila” as I imagined her running, hand in hand, with her big sister Esperanza, a 7-week old embryo that I miscarried in 2016.
Lila, a precious reminder of the playfulness of creation and the child-like urgency in only having this time now, on Earth, to create with.
So, what do I do?
How do I use my two hands while I am here?
I use them for creating and sharing my Sacred Work in our world.
What are your hands here for?
Do you harness innocence and urgency, and use it as a fuel to propel you in your life?
If so, how?