Conscious Grief

 

 

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“She was a genius of sadness, immersing herself in it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its subtle nuances. She was a prism through which sadness could be divided into its infinite spectrum.”

 

The months that followed my miscarriage were challenging, enlightening, painful and descriptives upon descriptives. I am no stranger to grief, but this was profoundly different, even with having a pretty in depth understanding of soul purpose and journeys, I was left paralyzed some days. Because grief is a roller coaster and very very sneaky.

Throughout my grief excursion, I wrote. Because that is what I do, so I will share that with you here. It doesn’t matter the type of grieving you are going through, I know mine had to do with so much more than one issue. Losing friends, losing myself, it was all grief.

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Forgiveness. Forgiveness of self. Forgiveness in miscarriage. Loving yourself through grief.
Women tend to carry an amount of shame and guilt and I even felt a sense of greed. “I already have two kids, it was selfish of me to want more.”
And FUCK ALL OF THAT.
Because it’s lies.
It’s important to go through the process: the anger, the sadness, to really feel it. It’s also important to know that it’s safe to release it, too. Realize those emotions don’t serve us well as protection, they weigh us down. It’s been a daily battle for me. The only emotion that serves us and our babies memories is love.

Its okay to forgive yourself. Forgive your body. Release.

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Can we be okay with feeling sad? Can we be okay with doing and feeling things we are told are destructive and unacceptable? Well, turns out, we don’t need permission. I’m going to feel this at my comfort level and do what I want to get through this unbearable feeling. But I’m going to fucking feel it.

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It’s getting calmer now, the wind.
Pull it pushes back again.
Scream into and carries away.
No one wanted to hear it anyway.
Swirling wisps of energy, moving feelings all around me. Not good or bad just is. Is. Is.
Pull it pushes back again.
Calmer now.

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My eyes are glossed over, I’m just trying to exist.
Grief is a toddler’s scribbles, going here and everywhere, off the paper and onto the table. Sometimes on the walls, spreading down the halls. You find some in a drawer sometimes or on your favorite shoes.

Magic eraser, scrub, scrub, scrub.

Where did I put that pen…shit. there it is. Inked all on the brand new couch.

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Witnessing lovely things with despondent eyes. I take note of it’s beauty but I cannot bring myself to celebrate. Maybe tomorrow will feel better in my bones. But today grief has burrowed and settled into the marrow. Ultimate entanglement.

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“Lift me from this floor…
If I can’t walk, I’ll crawl to love” -Saul Williams

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The spiritual journey is a series of grieving. Grieving is growing, nothing shows you strength like grief. It’s mourning the loss of old habits, of comfort zones and of the people that aren’t ready to go/grow with you. Honor them and their role in your journey, send love, mourn and move on.

We’ve been taught to resist the things that don’t feel good instead of feel them. We build walls, we get stuck, we give our power to our pain, to our anger. But Grieve. Grieve well, grieve messy, feel your feelings, be gentle with yourself, talk about it, seek help, recluse, be present. It’s all okay.

 

 

 

Waiting.

I had an ultrasound last Friday, I didn’t really want to go but it was ordered by my midwife…so I was like…sure. Just a simple dating scan, no big deal.

 

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Except it was a really big deal, because they couldn’t find a heartbeat and my nearly second trimester uterus was a carrying a very small baby. I was frozen and shocked and an entire thesaurus of both those things.  Maybe the dating was just off, I assured myself as I had to pull over and weep and panic attack.

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The waiting was the worst part:

Every small feeling is a painful reminder of what’s there…or what isn’t. Every twinge, every pull is more emotionally painful than the last. Not knowing is the hardest thing. Will this end up in tears of joy or despair.

Then Wednesday the blood started and hope was ripped from my white knuckles. Seeing part of your baby on bits of toilet paper is a sight that is absolutely indescribable.  I am being graphic here because this is what miscarriage looks like. It’s not a secret and it needs to be talked about. It’s sobbing every minute, it’s your three old old trying to comfort you “Everything will be okay, mom. Try and take a deep breathe with me.” It’s falling apart. And that is okay.

Even with having an understanding of soul and knowing that this is NOT THE END…even with knowing that, this is hard.

I had a confirmation ultrasound today. I had a team of people with me. Thank you Matty, Reese and Gracie. I could not have done today without you.

Poppy said (when Reese was able to connect into her energy) that when she was with me in her human form, she realized that she was selfish, she knew that Escher wasn’t ready and essentially said “deal with it.” She had a very short human experience yet she gained so much knowledge and passed so much to me. She simply made a different decision…because sometimes miscarriage looks like that, too. A different soul decision, “I’ll see you later when the time is right mom, but not right now.”

No shame, no guilt, no what ifs…This is what life looks like now. And for a little while longer it will be filled with tears and sadness, but not forever.

See you later, Little Girl.

 

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“I don’t want to fall asleep unless I dream of you. Please let it be true that I will hold you someday. Until then, my heart yearns.

Waiting,

Mama”

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