A huge fragment of my grievance includes what ‘might’ have been. This brings me down, my acute alertness to what will never be. I loved the fact that my boys where 9 months apart: I took pride in this. I took pride in that I was ‘busy’. We’d get together with other moms& I cherished the fact that they thought I was ‘busier’ than them, that they wonder how I ‘did it’; how did I manage to take care of two babies (one of them with special needs) & still teach yoga & still paint. I suddenly felt respected in my motherhood- my ‘stay-at-home’ mom status was finally good enough. I was good enough now.
When Tommy was in NICU, it use to enrage me to see pregnant NICU nurses. Haven’t they got any sense at all? All I want is to have my baby in my belly for 3 more month &this is what you put in my face? To remind me of my failure? I teach breathing to prenatal yoga student, I instruct yoga delivery workshops & look at me now… I got a stupid c-section? Double failure. And now, this. The resentment is palpable.
I didn’t expect to feel this way. Diminished. When I had Thomas, he was my pride & now I am full of shame& guilt &humiliation. But mostly, I am humbled. Humbled that I once thought being pregnant & giving birth was easy, that I thought having two babies was ‘harder&better’, that I was superior because of some outside variable. As I explore my grief, I am filled with purpose, forgiveness & compassion to others and myself. Deep down is this inner knowing that I am enough; that I have a place in infinity that doesn’t include people, or things or statuses.This project is waking me up, giving me fire(agni)- fire of love &understanding.