Little griefs

To most doctors, a patient’s miscarriage is simply another “missed abortion”. To the midwives I know, it’s a time for rest, healing, and self care. To parents it is often a loss of love, of life, of possibility.

Last week I shared the news of my pregnancy. Today I am in the middle of a miscarriage. While I am sad, I am also at peace with the process. The fears are gone because they have been realized. When I look at the incredible light shining from my daughter I am reminded of what is possible, what will come to pass again. The physicality of it all is taking a toll. I am exhausted. I am also surrounded by love. Sharing the pregnancy early has brought my communities – new and old – to my door in support. My eyes are filled with tears of gratitude.

In my meditation three nights ago, I felt a little burst of energy zip past me, disappearing into the whiteness of the ceiling in my mind’s eye. A tiny voice said with a smile, “I’m okay Mom”. I smiled in return. Crazy? Perhaps. My mind playing tricks to comfort my soul? Possibly. But I felt my daughter’s presence days before she was conceived so why is this not possible, this moment of comfort that lies outside the bounds of what we know to be possible?

I have questions that might never be answered. I wonder why I’ve had to learn this lesson twice. I think about all the unwanted pregnancies that come to full term, and all the loved little ones who leave too quickly. My heart holds the story of the woman in Haiti who dug for 50 hours, her bare hands bleeding, working to free her young son. I am awed by the power of love and the resiliency of the human spirit. I hold my husband and sob, knowing that release is necessary. I breathe deeply and allow the little griefs of life to wash through me, leaving me clean for a still, peaceful moment, until the journey continues and the knees on my heart get skinned again.

~ by Alana on January 23, 2010.

13 Responses to “Little griefs”

  1. Alana,
    I am so sorry to hear of your loss. Your words so eloquently, and beautifully, share an experience that is still raw and poignant. I feel so much of the Mother in your words, the big Mother that works through you, that loves you so deeply. I am glad you have many who love you surrounding you and comforting you at this time.

  2. This is so beautiful. I am sorry for your loss. I am also deeply comforted by your wisdom and the way the poetry of your words describes such familiar, ineffable feelings.
    Thank you, and, again, I am so sorry.

  3. sending love, love, love your way and also some love in the direction of your departed child. I deeply appreciate the invitation to share this moment. with sympathy and trust in your process, Dy

  4. Julie – thank you, what a huge compliment.

    Lindsey – thank you for leaving me a note. I’m grateful you found comfort and sorry it’s familiar.

    Dy – Your support, as always, is greatly appreciated.

  5. I am so sorry for this loss, and I appreciate your way of speaking of it and your trust in things beyond our logical consciousness. I hope your words bring comfort to others who might, in turn, feel less alone in their own experiences.

  6. Sending my love until I can give you a huge hug in person. Continue to take care of yourself. xo

  7. My heart is breaking for you. I have been there several times in the past almost 2 years. It is excruciating and has a way to throw everything into question. Life doesn’t make sense and pain is never reasonable.

    But know that this stranger is sending you her love. ::hugs::

  8. I had a dream about you and Steve and Ada last night. I woke up this morning wanting to tell you about it. You had created a beautiful white dress a long time ago and someone wanted to purchase it and make it her wedding dress. There was a sense of immediacy and flurry and white everywhere. And all three of your faces were there shining in it.
    I keep erasing everything I try to write to offer comfort to you or express my sorrow, but nothing is coming out that feels right.
    So maybe I am just suppose to share my dream of you and your family. I love you and send hugs! Cynthia

  9. A beautiful tribute to a special part of you. I do believe what you experienced in meditation is possible. Thank you for sharing with us & I’m sorry for your loss,

    Bonnie

  10. Just found your blog from a comment on the mindfulist. Read your about page and felt a connection. tweeted to say so then cam back to see this post. I had a miscarriage last Spring after a year and a half of trying. I am 42 and am coming to terms with likelihood that I will not be pregnant again. Well, my thoughts go out to you. I don’t know what your journey has been to this point but whatever it is a lost pregnancy is always a dream unrealized. There may be more dreams but this one mysteriously comes to an end. I look forward to reading more of your blog and your journey.

  11. [...] recent blog post by wholeselfcoach on her own miscarriage caught my attention in being both lyrically accepting and also raw in her honesty about the sobbing [...]

  12. [...] just had my second miscarriage in January, this topic has been top of mind. I wrote about it and then Bruce at Privilege of Parenting had this loveliness to say on the subject. As Anne told us [...]

  13. [...] this night last year, I felt the first little spirit we had conceived leave my body. In rereading what I wrote then, I am brought to my knees once more by the events that Alana had yet to experience. I am reeling [...]

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