A peculiar thing has been happening lately.

People, either in person or via private message, have been reaching out to hug me and to say,
“I’m so sorry [for your loss].”

It’s true that when I am confronted with images of other people’s brand new babies or talk of another person’s pregnancy, I still harbor a desire to give birth to a girl child but, mainly, I feel like I have gained a lot from my most recent miscarriage experience.

Perhaps, it was because of how fully I documented and engaged with my process that I now feel full and, definitely, not empty.
(Although I did experience my womb space has immediately barren in the days following our bloody ordeal.)

After gratefully receiving these condolences from others, I have shared with a few about how I feel I have gained so much – even in the face of my loss.

One Mama Sister Friend asked me how and what I have gained, so I thought I would share more here.

Death is its Own Medicine.

With my three year old son in tow, I bow before it and thank it for sparing other parts of my life – some of which I can not bare the thought of losing.

“Thank you, Teacher.”

Standing in my backyard, I gaze down, and see a purple rock – the word Lila emblazoned in white upon it – as it sits in
our Garden of Loss. I painted that rock to commemorate the 7 week-old energy that, I believe, sacrificed Her body so that I could harness the urgency of this Now.

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The start of my last pregnancy, which began in September, had me waking at 3 and 4am. It was an immediate, internal alarm clock going off – just once and without any resistance from me. So, up I would go – padding around our fall yard, readying the space for birthday celebrations and our home-based cooperative.

Even as I began to surrender to how crummy I also felt – a deep hacking cough emanating from my lower, right lung – I still rose before the sun and wandered out under the stars to identify familiar constellations and to witness a setting Moon.

When we gathered in  Sisterhood for my “Ceremony of Release & Renewal,” a Priestess (the same mama sister friend who helped to call in my son’s Soul when he reached day #120 in my womb) shared that the bright, light energy of the recently past embryo was still surrounding me and that I needed to fully release it. Immediately, I felt sad as well as scared that I wouldn’t be able to integrate the life lessons that this life force energy brought with it.

Instead, in a moment of clarity and power, I chose to commit to myself.
“I can do this,” I thought.
“I can wake before the rising sun,
so that I can sing my unique, morning song.
And so that I can gather precious energy from time spent in solitude and darkness,
while sowing my own form of meditative seeds – by gently stretching or dancing, quietly singing, writing or doing work that I simply can not accomplish when my 3-year old son is around.”

With this thought, I then released “Lila” as I imagined her running, hand in hand, with her big sister Esperanza, a 7-week old embryo that I miscarried in 2016.

Lila, a precious reminder of the playfulness of creation and the child-like urgency in only having this time now, on Earth, to create with.
(Thank you.)

So, what do I do?
How do I use my two hands while I am here?

I use them for creating and sharing my Sacred Work in our world.

(Click image to see an example of my Sacred Work in our world)


What are your hands here for?


Do you harness innocence and urgency, and use it as a fuel to propel you in your life? 


If so, how?