January 22, 2013 § 1 Comment
It’s taken me six weeks to write this post. Since Robin was ill, life has been about healing. About him healing, physically, then about the rest of us healing, emotionally.
I give thanks for all the issues that have surfaced in the past few months, ready to be released and healed.
One of them was some feelings about the baby I lost, six years ago now. I hardly ever talk about him and I’ve rarely even mentioned his name. It feels such a personal experience that it is hard to talk about, even to acknowledge what occurred.
Meir Heartman; my third son.
He only lived for five months in my womb. However I felt him move within me, and knew his spirit. I gave birth to him as I have my five other children, feeling the high of birthing a baby and at the same time the raw hurt of grief.
Losing a child has been the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced. The birth was utterly heart-wrenching. My arms ached for my baby. My breasts leaked at the cry of another newborn. The sense of being ‘different’, marked by misfortune, was really strong and uncomfortable.
It’s true that life was tricky at the time I was pregnant with Meir. I don’t know how life would have been for our family had we had another baby at that particular time. It was a terrible price to pay to keep the harmony in my life and family.
‘Meir’ means ‘bringer of enlightenment’. For me, Meir brought with him the absolute knowing that every baby is so precious, and deserving of unconditional love. I never felt any guilt at the time, but in the past couple of years I feel I am doing Meir, and myself, a disservice in acting as though he didn’t exist, or change me.
My two eldest sons remember that time. On the day I went to hospital to birth Meir, William was at Kindy, where the hens laid just one egg. The teacher gave William the egg to hold all day to keep warm. That teacher also organised for all the mums of the class to make some meals for us. I’ll never forget that. And now my third child is going into her Kindy class – the cycle of life rolls on.
I’m so sorry that you couldn’t stay with us. XX
January 16, 2013 § Leave a comment
On New Year’s Eve, Sol and I did some intentional letting go for 2012. I wrote down what I wanted to let go of, and I burnt it. A lot of hurts had built up, a lot of responsibilities that felt heavy, as well as frustrations I’ve felt lately about my personal limits. I had a lot to let go of.
I believe there metaphysical causes to illness and disease. So when, a few days after my letting go, I woke up with very sore joints and swollen hands and feet, I knew it could not be a coincidence.
Some acupuncture took care of the physical, but I also turned to good old Louise L. Hay:
Swelling: Being stuck in thinking. Clogged, painful ideas.
Joints: Represent changes in direction in life and the ease of these movements.
What are you afraid of losing?
From ‘You Can Heal Your Life’, Louise L. Hay, 1999 ed.
Sometimes the truth is brutal. However the brutal truth can facilitate a shift more quickly than anything else.
I’ve been aware for a while that life felt hard. To organise the family to go out, to get even basic housework done, felt hard. It’s much easier to let one’s internal dialogue get sloppy and negative, rather than supportive and positive – at least it is so for me. My mind has gradually slid into a bit of a hopeless, ‘can’t’ space.
I’ve been undertaking a homeopathic detox this past month, and today finally had an ‘aha’ moment; linking the detox to the rush of emotions that have been overtaking me lately, so much so that I have begun dreaming about being overwhelmed by tidal waves (water represents emotions in the dream life). My intentions on New Years Eve were to let go; it is happening. It feels like a roller coaster ride, but the letting go is happening. All I can do is acknowledge the feelings that arise, and open the door so they can leave!
My hands and joints were back to normal after a few days. I’ve made some changes to my life for this year. I find it is the little things I do each day that truly shape my life, so even the smallest changes have huge impacts. And the emotional tidal waves are receding, gradually. As the fog drifts away I can see how it was just that: fog. Not the real me.
January 14, 2013 § Leave a comment
Last week we took some time out for a small family holiday at the beach a few hours north of Sydney. It was a holiday desperately needed, and deeply enjoyed.
We had plenty of time swimming, and just being together. William became reacquainted with the skate ramp (he prefers the skate ramps outside of Sydney for some reason). Watching William skate is one of those experiences where it is a joy to watch; where the person and their activity are one. I marveled at how my kids are evolving: Zara, looking like a little girl now rather than a toddler. She spent hours playing quietly in the sand. And Lily (not pictured), running into the surf with her board without any fear. I spent hours in the water, baby on one hip, teaching her to catch waves. Thankfully Robin found waves hilarious.
Every time we go to Nelson Bay we do a dolphin watching cruise. And every time I go onto the boom net, which hangs off the boat into the water, so it is like you are swimming with the dolphins. I don’t think the dolphin experience is complete without getting wet! Robin came onto the net with me too. I’ve breastfed three of my kids now on this dolphin cruise in the net!
My sister and her family were also holidaying in the area. I think the highlight for the kids was getting to spend lots of time with their cousins. By happy luck, we have boys of similar ages and girls of similar ages too, and they are all close.
I think holidays are essential. Already planning another mini-holiday before school goes back!