Monday, February 8, 2010

My Truth

I am reading the most amazing book right now.

It's called "Miscarriage: Women Sharing From The Heart" by Marie Allen, PhD & Shelly Marks, MS.

I love it so much, I've been jokingly calling it my miscarriage bible.

It is a source of comfort.

And pain.

I resonate with it multiple times per page, and have seen myself in each of the 100 women who bravely and transparently share their miscarriage story.

This book is more appropriately called a workbook for me.

I've cried at nearly every page.

But it's the therapeutic cry.

The cry of "I am not alone in my feelings ..."

" ... I am not fighting this loss on my own ... "

"... There are others who have grieved as deeply as I am."

I'd love to share an excerpt that has brought much pain, yet healing in my journey.

One of the authors speaks of the loss of her baby (which she lost at 12 weeks and named Jamie) She speaks of her pain nearly 15 years after her miscarriage ...
I see that I am still sometimes emotional about my miscarriage, but I am much more at peace about it too. Marie gave me a note about a Buddhist belief in "bodhisattvas" --souls that manifest for someone else's life and lessons rather than for their own spiritual growth. That made me feel so good. It helped explain the loving gift I had received from Jamie's life. With this in mind, I reread a part of my journal in which I said I would give back everything in order to have my baby. I think a part of me still feels this way.

Certainly no earthly thing could replace a child. However, I also now feel that Jamie gave an ultimate gift of love. She gave me her whole life. It was like she said, "I am only here to manifest for a short time and I will be yours and yours alone. No one else will know me as you do. I will come into your life, have an impact, leave a gift, and then I will go." It would seem unfair to Jamie to want more. Asking more of her is impossible.
That last part rips my heart out.

I literally can not read it out loud without crying.

Just like during my divorce, I CHOSE to FEEL. I CHOSE to CRY. I CHOSE to MOURN. I CHOSE to HEAL.

I know that this road is the difficult one.

It's easier to not feel.

To not cry.

To not mourn.

And therefore ... not fully heal.

But if I chose that path, I would not be honoring my intense, deeply painful self.

The self that longs to heal and feel whole again.

And it is that bright future of full healing that I am so excited for.

But until then ... I will power through.

And live in my integrity.

My true self.

My truth.

1 comment:

Suzi said...

You, my friend, I'm proud of. That's it. No other words come to mind. Except how lucky and blessed I am to work with you and to share a friendship with. Love you, Lisa!