Chaos & Clarity

Dear Mama,

You have joined a club that no one wants to be a part of.  With regret, I welcome you into the company of those who have lost babies in pregnancy and birth.

I remember standing at that same entrance, unwilling to move; unwilling to acknowledge my membership.  Fear entices you to run and hide, but there is no visible exit.  And you cannot tear through these walls that now enclose you.

My dear woman, you are safe, even though your earth is shaking.  You are surrounded by loving arms that are ready to catch you if you fall.  Come, sit a while, and I will hold a space for your sorrow.

My love is all I have to offer.  I am devoid of the healing you seek so early in your loss.  There are no tricks to make it all go away.  No express train to peace.  But there is a path out of the sorrow.  I promise.  You cannot see it yet.  But you will.

At first, you may wander aimlessly,  grasping at reason and cursing life itself. You will scramble to pick up the pieces of the belief system that used to fuel you.  You may grieve louder than is comfortable for others and perhaps longer than people hope you will.  Or withdraw into a space so dark that even you cannot find yourself.

But eventually, like fireflies at night, hope will emerge in flickers.  Little bits of sunshine will seep into the cracks of your broken heart.  Until one day you stop having to chase the light.  Instead, you find yourself standing in it, unable to resist its warmth.

A token flower on your doorstep.

A bird splashing in a puddle.

And yes, even a baby crying.

Love will return. Resiliency will reign.

There are great life lessons that are exposed only through the experience of tragedy.  They are yours for the taking. Allowing yourself to experience loss for all its potential will inevitably lead to grace.  With compassion and confidence, I invite you onto this new path.

May you be blessed on your journey and know that you are never alone.