Someone very dear to me lost their child this past Thanksgiving. The aching in my heart for this mother and her family is constant and intense, and yet I know that it cannot compare to the heartache my dear friend must be feeling.
If it were anyone else, I would be surprised by the strength and grace with which my friend is handling this loss, but with her I am not surprised. She is the embodiment of spirit, awareness, strength and dignity to which I aspire. She is who I want to be when I grow up. Even in her grief her heart remains open.
When I first heard the news, I experienced the usual emotions; shock and disbelief, sadness and anger. Almost immediately after my only thoughts were: I would die if I lost my child. This could happen to me. This can never happen. What can I do to make sure this never happens? And then the unsettling answer: Nothing.
I know that many mothers have lost children. Most of those mothers have lived through it. Many of them manage to live beautiful fulfilled lives. I admire these women so much as I marvel at their strength and wonder if I could ever possess it.
Since becoming a mother my heart has grown to sizes previously unimaginable. This new giant heart of mine feels big and strong enough to wrap my sweet baby inside and hold him there forever, but it is also very soft and tender. Since his birth I can’t help but see every person I meet as someone’s child.
It is perhaps silly, but I find myself saying, “This person is someone’s baby.” As if I didn’t know that before. Obviously, I did, but there is a difference in knowing something intellectually and feeling something deep within.
This new perspective is very useful if I find myself getting annoyed or feeling impatient with someone. Telling myself that this person is someone’s child triggers compassion instantly.
But in situations where I observe a person suffering or in pain, my giant tender mother’s heart just bleeds. I simply cannot bear it.
I’m still new at this mothering thing, and new to this expanded love and heart-consciousness. I know that it is one of the greatest blessings of motherhood, to feel this kind of love. But it is also very scary to be so raw much of the time.
Is this my new state of being? Will I always weep so easily and feel everything so acutely? Or will I learn how to manage this powerful heart; to find a place of open-hearted equanimity?
What would I do if I lost my baby? I hope I never have to find out the answer to that question. I also hope that the mothers who have faced the loss of a child feel the giant tender love of mothers everywhere, enveloping them and holding them there. Those of us who cannot know your pain because we have not experienced it, feel the ache and cry for you. Those that do know your pain because they too have experienced it, know your ache and cry with you. Either way, you’re not crying alone.
Has motherhood made you feel more connected with others?
This is an original post to World Moms Blog by Ms V. in South Korea.
Photo credit to Joe Penna. This photo has a creative commons attribution license.
Ms. V. (South Korea)
Ms. V returned from a 3-year stint in Seoul, South Korea and is now living in the US in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her partner, their two kids, three ferocious felines, and a dog named Avon Barksdale. She grew up all over the US, mostly along the east coast, but lived in New York City longer than anywhere else, so considers NYC “home.” Her love of travel has taken her all over the world and to all but four of the 50 states. Ms. V is contemplative and sacred activist, exploring the intersection of yoga, new monasticism, feminism and social change. She is the co-director and co-founder of Samdhana-Karana Yoga: A Healing Arts Center, a non-profit yoga studio and the spiritual director for Hab Community. While not marveling at her beautiful children, she enjoys reading, cooking, and has dreams of one day sleeping again.
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What a great post and sad that you have a reason to write it. You ask the question ‘Will I always weep so easily and feel everything so acutely’ – I think the answer to that is yes. My eldest is 23 and I don’t worry any less, he has a 6 month old now so my ‘mothering’ instincts just expand to include more.
I can’t begin to imagine how any mother copes with losing a child and my heart goes out to your friend.
My 16 year old son was talking about one of his mates the other day whose mother has died, that made me sad that any child should have to grow up without a mum.
I think our hearts expand and we feel so much more once we become mothers.
At the start of the American invasion of Iraq (2003) I found my Mom sobbing in front of the T.V. I asked why she was so upset. She told me that the men being killed were someone’s sons, someone’s sweet little baby with 10 toes and 10 fingers. She couldn’t help but to hurt for all those Iraqi woman. And now neither can I.
Great post Ms. V. I’m sorry your friend is experiencing such a loss. One of our WMB own, Amy Hillis, has suffered the loss of not one but two of her children. If she gets a chance to read your post, I hope she’ll chime in with some thoughts.
I remember, when I was pregnant with our first child, saying to my husband: how am I going to find the capacity to love someone beyond you? But of course I/we both did. When I was pregnant with our second child, I remember having the fear again: could I possibly love another being as much as I already loved my husband AND our child? Of course you kno the answer.
The human heart is a marvel. It grows and evolves and adapts…and heals. I pray for healing for your friend. I hope she finds it through many channels.
What a beautifully written post, and what a sad reason to write it. When I was pregnant with our second child, my husband voiced a concern of how would he be able to make room in his heart for another little being? Instinctively I knew that we don’t need to make room – our hearts just grow to allow more in. I now find myself putting myself in other’s shoes much more. Even in fictional tv shows, if I see a hurt child (for instance) I imagine myself in that situation, and I am much more effected by it (coincidentally, so is my husband – so its not just mother’s hearts that grow).
My heart goes out to your friend. I hope she finds strength and cherishes the fond memories of her child.
Hugs.
I’m so sorry to read about your friend’s loss. How unimagineable. As to your point :“This person is someone’s baby.” – I have thought about that in terms of my own relationship with my mom. Once I became a mother, I thought about how even though I am a grown woman, I am still my mother’s child…and it helped me rethink some of my preconceived notions about my mom. Not sure if I am making sense, but becoming a mother has broadened my ideas about the fact that we are all someone’s child. Thanks for sharing your thoughts in this heartfelt post!
This was a beautiful post, Ms. V. I definitely feel a connection with mothers, and especially women who had a difficult time conceiving or who are going through that now. I want to support them because I went through that, too.
So happy that you’re on board with us!
Jen 🙂