I’m offering a story that may be triggering for some and it involves the concepts of pregnancy (and lack there of), miscarriage and loss of a baby. However, I am including a loving and meaningful invitation, so if you normally might skip reading this, I encourage you to take some deep slow breaths into your heart, filling it with love and ask your spirit if it will be nourishing for you to read this instead of harmful. Listen to your heart, it knows.
This morning I opened a letter from an old friend. At first, it looked like a holiday card covered with pictures of her and her husband and family. Then I realized what they were wearing - shirts that showed that they are expecting a child. Suddenly and without warning, a huge wave of emotion crashed over me. I immediately called and left a voice message tearfully congratulating her, bumbling over my words, so delighted and happy for her and surprised by my big emotions.
The magic of spirit connection is often about the timing, and you’ll see how that unfolds here. I just returned from a trip with two of my high school girlfriends and during the trip we were leaning into the concept of letting go of our belongings. When we let go, we invite experiences and things that are more aligned with where we are now; clearing our lives, our spaces and our beings of stagnant energy. Yes to that! The task of actually going through the steps of purging things, especially after a build-up, can take extra time and energy, often two things I have little of.
I had decided during those conversations a few days ago to make a date with myself. I blocked time in my calendar for this very afternoon to go up into the attic and begin sorting through the mountain of baby things I’d held onto, in the case we might have another child. To be clear, that ship sailed shortly after having my son, eight years ago. The experience of pregnancy and birth was SO extreme on my body, which changed in almost every way imaginable and took many years to recover and heal from. It was also SO intense on my marriage from lack of sleep and the drastic change of our focus. I dearly love my child but we were immediately reluctant to enter another round of all that. Just in case, I held onto things, particularly because I felt another spirit connected with me. There is an amazing story of reuniting with that spirit which I’ll share another time.
Right after leaving my friend the message, I realized the magical and obvious timing and excitedly offered all of my baby things to her in a follow up text, and to my delight, she said yes to taking them! She explained that they hadn’t really gotten anything yet, wanting to make sure the baby was strong and healthy after her miscarriage history. I didn’t realize they’d been trying for a baby - I thought they’d decided against it. I had no idea…
Suddenly I realized that the huge wave of emotion was not only for the news of the baby that is coming, but also for the times she’d lost her babies and that I’d missed the opportunity to hold her in that space in some meaningful way.
So many people struggle with deep grief in silence when trying again and again to conceive, through miscarriage, or the loss of a baby. Here’s a blast of warm love if this is you. The only way to break the cultural silence is to share. Please let your beautiful voice be heard and honored. Your community can’t support you if they don't know and we want to love you through your losses as well as your joys. I believe that holding love and support for those who have experienced the loss of a child at any age (including not coming into physical form) can be just as important as the celebration of a baby coming into the world. So I encourage you to do two things that are interlinked and dependent upon each other:
Share your losses, even when it is uncomfortable and feels vulnerable.
Surround those who share their losses with deep, authentic and meaningful love.
Show up with presence in either and both scenarios rather than avoiding what is uncomfortable. When you do these things, you bravely model connection and community and that vulnerability is the most beautiful strength possible, paving the way for others to do the same.
Don’t know what to say when someone has had a loss? Share that honestly. Ask, “Can I bring you dinner Wednesday?” “Would you like a massage with this wonderful healer?” “Can I come help do your dishes or laundry or spend time with your children?” “Is there anything that you can think of that would be helpful for you right now?” Always gain consent for offering support in any form including a hug.
For those who’ve been through these losses, discerning with whom you share. Does your energy feel uplifted and held with this person in general? If so, you can trust they will likely hold space for your grieving. If they don’t know how, don’t take it personally and if you have the energy, you can address this by asking for consent to share something important and difficult for you beforehand and what kind of support you’d like from them before you tell them. Please also share in the comments with us any additional ideas we can say and do that would be most helpful in these moments.
Here’s an invitation: Write about your journey of loss or about another’s journey of loss you are witnessing or have witnessed, whether they are alive or not. Sing about it. Talk about it. Cry about it. Laugh about it. Think about it. Share it in some way that is authentic and meaningful to you. Feel free to share your own story here. Make sure to gain consent if you want to share another’s publicly. Even if no one else reads or hears your story, you are sharing it and by doing that you are helping to shift the tides of our culture. The world will only grow more loving and more real as you do.
My employer offers bereavement leave for employees who experience a miscarriage, but since most women don't tell coworkers about a pregnancy before the end of the first trimester, a lot of people do not know about the benefit. It's worth checking with HR if you experience this type of loss so you don't have to use personal time off or have to work during a period of mourning.