From my WOMB and HEART, to yours / Part II

Two weeks ago today, we had a miscarriage.


For two weeks these words have been growing inside of me, waiting to come out, waiting to be birthed. I woke up this morning with no doubt in my mind that today is the day.

Just as I imagine someone who encounters a person in grief feels, how I have felt – there is so much yet so little to say. A while ago I decided that I rather say a lot, whichever side of grief I am on. I'd rather say a lot to the person grieving, and I rather say a lot as the one within the process. I rather say it ALL or even say too much, actually, just for the sake of brining in some kind of balance into the way we share, into the way we communicate the really heart wrenching, painful, uncomfortable things.

Two weeks ago I woke up and did all of the things I usually do in the morning. I had been pregnant for 9 weeks and felt the symtoms wearing away, but as literally everything else within a pregnancy, I was told that it is normal. Everything is normal, and you are supposed to listen to your body and go with the flow. The only thing is that your body is not yours anymore, it is on a lease – rented out to a process that you are not at all involved in in any way, except for the extreme feelings of hunger, fatigue and nausea. A few hours later I was bleeding heavily. The blood was releasing all of our dreams and all of our hopes, letting go of all of the stories that never became real. I bled for almost a week, and then it was over.

Through it all, I felt how tired I am of the way we are conditioned to joke around with pain and sadness – not showing it, masking it as something it is not, not sharing it, shoving it down our bodies.

For me, this miscarriage is so much more then a failed pregnancy. The recent unveiling of all of the stories of #metoo is making my womb RE-member all of the horror, all of the terrible, aweful things that she has gone through. Giving birth to an embryo that couldn't survive inside me, is only one of those things. There are no women around to tell a painless story – we are all carrying this grief in one way or another. We have all stared it in the eye and howled in pain. We have all felt it in our WOMB, or the place where the womb has it's imprint – the place of birth and death, transformation and life. The place that holds the memory of what has been and what is yet to come.

All of our unborn children, and the faces of all of the men who raped us and burned us, dwell there. All of the life that we can create within our cycle and all of the magick that we bring forth in co-creation with Earth Mother, dwell there. All of our scars and all of our STRENGTH, dwell there. Our sisters and brothers and mothers and fathers, dwell there.

Pregnancy, fertility, miscarriage, birth, loss. A decision to not become a mother. A realisation that being a mother can be so many other things then having a child.

Wherever you are, whoever you are, I am here to see and feel your story.

We heal through sharing fearlessly.

We heal together.

With love always,