I knew it must of been time.  My labor had picked up to the point of not being able to work through them and I knew she was coming.  When the doctor checked my cervix during contractions to see how close I was, she informed us that the baby's body was out but the head was trying to fit through.  That's when she told us that Mira had passed. 

If you don't want to imagine it, that's okay.  But if you want to share in my grief, I welcome you in to try.  I've never felt such devastation in my life.  My husband has been to places after horrible tragedies, such as Haiti after the earthquake.  Every trip like that changed his heart and perspective as he saw tragedy with his own eyes and came home more grateful than when he had left.  I had only heard stories and honestly never wanted to imagine it.  I didn't want to share in others' grief because I didn't want to feel the pain that others went through.  On Monday morning, it was our own tragedy and there was no way to escape it.  I wanted it to be over so badly and I wanted to run as far away as possible.  All I wanted was to mourn and cry.  I wanted a baby at the end of a hard labor.  I wanted the physical pain to be over or I wanted the mental pain to be over.  To have both at the same time was unbearable.

I have experienced pain and tragedy in my life before.  The separation of my parents, the painful mocking from peers, the loss of friendships, the depth of depression, the betrayal from a loved one. . . but I didn't remember how deep pain could go.  It was the kind of ache that one could not run from, cope with or medicate.  The only answer to that pain was to sit through it and there wasn't another choice even though I wanted one.  I didn't ask the Creator to make it stop because I knew it was my time to experience the tragedy.  I knew it wasn't because of something I did, I knew it wasn't a punishment, it wasn't karma.  

The doctors had left, leaving me alone with my husband, my nurse, and my baby inside.  I saw the tears in my nurse’s eyes as she kept helping me through my contractions.  I saw my husband crying silently next to me, not being able to save me or the baby in any way.  They offered their hands as I continued to labor.

Functioning and coping after perinatal loss was like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. I was a zombie. A literal zombie. I didn’t know how to cope, I was alone, and I didn’t know what I needed. I didn’t know how to ask for help and people didn’t know how to help me. I would lock myself in my bedroom with my other two littles right outside my door asking if I was okay, wanting to escape to god knows where. Friends and family were there the week of loss, but what I needed, was support for the months after (even though I didn’t always want it.) This is the need that I am offering.

If you have any questions about my offerings, please fill out this form for a free 20 minute consultation.

With all my love,
Nani