I keep trying to write this down, say it out loud, deal with it; but every time I try I find a good old excuse not to. It shouldn't be this hard. We should be allowed to talk about it. I find it creeps into my everyday like a slow moving fog. I want it to lift. I want to see the brighter side of the cemetery stone.
I had a miscarriage in June. I have spent countless hours mourning the loss of the baby I always wanted.
No, I wasn't in a serious relationship - in fact the morning I had the miscarriage the guy took off for two weeks to NY with nothing more than a kiss on my forehead. If that didn't suck - in the next two weeks I lost my home and had to leave my dog as well.
Dominoes.
For many years my life has read like a falling stack of dominoes. I accepted it; much like a accepted this miscarriage and then the constant state of loss I allow myself to stay in.
Key. Words.
Allow myself.
Changing the conversation (the dialog) I have had with myself for a long time has been key to getting me to this point. Saying what I mean to MYSELF. (IE: being able to write this down)
I'm not looking for attention of any kind of sympathy when I write this - I know how many of us woman (and men) have gone thru this; what I have wondered this whole time is what defines this great loss? What story do I walk away telling myself everyday?
I tell myself I'm ok. Over and over. That I'm strong. That maybe the reason for all of this to happen was to give me the time to reconnect with my sister and HER kids. Kids that already exist that I love dearly. I am not being punished. I did not deserve to experience yet another great pain or loss in my life.
It just happened. I'm ok. For that short amount of time I felt what it might have been like to be a mom. Initial fear, amazement, a miracle!!! It just didn't stick.
I believe every soul has intention. I also believe that this is an important time in our lives that we are able to accept universal energy and allow it to change our path and our beliefs if we so chose...or if we just simply need to make a different choice than the one we have been making for many years.
I chose to not let this sad and emotional loss rule me. I will no longer let any kind of loss define me. I am ok. I am strong, beautiful, creative and independent. I didn't need the baby to make me whole; I already am. I did love the baby. Love should always be enough. As long as you give it for free; even if it is not returned.
A gift. This loss was a gift. Every moment is a gift to give yourself love. I pulled thru this heartache without hurting anyone - especially myself.
There are two paintings that sit next to my bed that I painted while I was in the throws of losing the baby, the "boyfriend", my home, and having to leave a town that I love and my dog. Art has always been a way to tell my story without me (trying) to be obvious. I look at these paintings and I'm so grateful that I was able to make art out of it all. That I have these two beautiful reminders of this one very small part of my bigger story. I hope you have art in your life that gives you this. I really do. It is one of the bigger reasons why I do what I do - I believe that art heals.
Thank you for reading and for sharing in this with me. It means a lot that I am more than an "artist" or someone who incessantly posts art on facebook, or pics of my dog...or that my internet personality paints a good facade without telling the truth.
Here it is....the hardest thing I've had to write to date....and here is that painting (and the artwork above) that tells of that heartache. I call them the dead baby paintings. I know...parts of my internet personality are true; just the sick one's mostly.
The true test will be if I click Publish...if you are reading this; then you know I just gifted myself with a fog lifting ceremony. Cheers.
.JPG)
