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.