Spirituality + Intentional living + Conscious Motherhood
I consider myself a fortunate person with a blessed life.
But I have been both the giver and receiver of lemons.
And I guess losing our daughter was a lemon. I think we can all agree on that.
But no matter what happens to me in my life, no matter what experiences I am thrown into, I have the opportunity to ask myself these questions;
Mia,
in your 6 months of life you changed everything
you made a girl into a mother
a man into a father,
you turned two into three,
you showed me life,
you showed me death,
you are as close to me as you are far
with only one infuriating inch of space that separates us
and even though I am a mother who has to understand
that your journey in this life was a short one,
I can’t help but wish that you were in my life
instead of all around it.
This experience is good for me.
It’s good for me because it turned my entire life into a giant question mark.
And I think it’s a good thing to feel like that from time to time.
I have seen how fragile life is. It was a topic that I had been contemplating before I became pregnant with Mia. It was a concept that had become illuminated in my life. And now I know it more deeply.
Last summer, I had been thinking about death and my own mortality a lot. For the first time, really. At the time I finally realized that I was walking through life like I was invincible to death. And I felt that was a foolish way to live when I understood that life is not promised to me.
Going through this journey with Mia has taught me that death is just as beautiful and just as necessary as birth.
And now, I see the gift of life.
In my mind, I picture two newborn babies. One, perhaps a child of my future, who is born alive. And the other, my Mia, who is born sleeping.
The difference between these two babies, the life that exists in one, and the life that is absent in the other, it is invisible. And yet it is everything.
My baby was born still,
in a quiet room,
with her big eyes closed.
But she was still born,
just sleeping soft,
held 6 months in my womb.
–
My baby was so small,
that she fit right in
to her father’s hand
My baby was
still born, but she was still held
–
My baby’s heart did not beat,
but mine was broken,
cracked in two
and yet all the while,
bursting in ecstacy for her
because my baby was
still born, but she was still loved.
–
My baby was born in quiet room,
and she did not cry,
but the roar of her presence
was so loud
because my baby was
still born, but she was still heard.
–
The next day
my baby was taken away,
to another room and another world
that we could not go,
but she lives on within us
because my baby was
still born, but she is still ours
–
My baby was set free,
in a soft stream
of cool flowing water,
my baby was born still,
but she was still born
and still my daughter.
–
A messy poem I have written for our girl. It isn’t perfect, and nothing seems to flow, but it is the truest reflection of what is in my heart.
Well, I always said I wanted to make my blog more personal – to write about my experiences and about life as I’m living it, rather than it being a textbook of instructions. And now it can’t be anything but intimate. I can’t write anything other than my truth, and what is at the center of it. And right now, the center of it is a blend of deep grief and gladness.
I like to write. Writing is soothing and healing for me. And so I will write.
I love this part of the story. It’s my favourite part.
For most people, the best part of pregnancy is having a baby. For me, it was going labour and birthing my daughter. For me, the best part of pregnancy was the pain. It’s a morbid and sad thing to realize, but I have not known it any other way.
I don’t know what it is to give birth to a baby who is alive and who I can bring home and watch her grow up. But I know what it is to give birth to my daughter. And it was the most beautiful experience of my life.
This is the the hardest story that I am living, and the most difficult one to write about.
I knew I wanted to share this part of my pregnancy with you too, because it is real and true and heartbreaking and a part of my life that I cannot ignore or deny.
But I am conscious that it is not only my story to tell. It is also my husband’s story, and his comfort is mine and his pain is also mine. So it is only with his permission that I share this with you today.
We had to say goodbye to our sweet baby girl at 6 months of pregnancy.
This year I only have one resolution.
Only one thing I resolve to do.
I only desire to keep my spiritual practices as my priority in each day of 2017.
I guess there are a couple of reasons why I came to this, but the main reason is that it’s truly the only thing I really want to do. Like, really, really want to do.
In September I attended Isha’s Inner Engineering program. During the course, a concept that really permeated deep into me was realizing that I have the capacity within me to be a mother to all beings of this world. This was weeks before I found out that I was pregnant. I am a mother of the world. A mother is creation and nurturing. A mother is your biggest cheerleader, she believes endlessly in your goodness, a mother picks you up and puts you together again when you are broken in a heap on the floor.
Continue reading “I am a Mother of the world: Spirituality in pregnancy”