The Things We Do For Love . . .

I've been thinking for awhile now that if our default mode was one of love rather than fear, we could probably make a big dent in the number of abortions that take place. 

Isn't that what everybody wants anyway?

No woman "wants" to have an abortion, even those of us who have had one. 

And duh, the pro-lifers are all against abortion. 

What better way to have it all?

And then a couple of weeks ago, my daughter's boyfriend showed me a perfect example. 

He made a decision based on love, not fear. 

He chose to walk in my daughter's shoes long enough to understand her reproductive choices were "their" reproductive choices. Her comfort or discomfort was his too. When she was not healthy, it impacted him also. They both knew before they began their relationship that they didn't want to have children. Neither pressured the other to think the same way about a future with or without kids. After watching her medical struggles for a year now with various hormones and patches and their impact on her body, mind and spirit, he decided he would do his part. 

He made a decision to have a vasectomy. 

Now, more than a few folks think he is crazy. Or, he's too young (26) to know whether or not he wants kids. He may change his mind. My favorite - why would he risk a knife to the "family jewels" in the first place? 

Maybe there is a new generation of men out there who are more open to this kind of sharing. I hope so. I've met men who refused to wear a condom, much less decided to have a vasectomy. This young man's actions seem pretty extraordinary to me. 

I don't know what the final straw was that propelled him to make this decision, but I know that he loves his girlfriend, my daughter, with his whole self. He's watched her pain and seen her anxiety. I believe he's felt these things with her. 

He made a choice for unity instead of separation. 

He made a choice to operate with compassion and love for the benefit of the whole of the relationship, not for the benefit of himself. 

He made a choice for love over fear. 

He leaned into, not away from. 

He built a bridge to greater intimacy, he did not dig a bigger moat. 

He earned his "man card". 

He's a modern day Knight in Shining Armor in my book. He's taking responsibility for himself and the woman he loves. He leaned into a decision that many other men don't ever make. He chose love over fear. (And, ironically, a decision that will hopefully prevent an unplanned and unwanted pregnancy). 

I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but I do know, as a mom, I couldn't feel more grateful for the partner my daughter is with today. 

Ahhh, the things we do for love!

What will you do for love today? Lol!

Namaste. 

Are You Ready for Rebirth?

“Where is the man with the drugs?” I demanded. “You are all lying to me aren’t you? You say he’s coming, but he’s not, is he? You’re all full of it!”

I should state here that this was not one of my finest moments during the delivery of my second child and biggest baby. This week he will be sixteen. If you read last week’s blog, you know his younger brother was also born in October, so January seems to have been a particularly fertile month for me!


Born on October 17, 1998, he was 8 pounds 11 ½ ounces when he made his way into the world three days past his due date. Even though he took his time deciding when he was ready to be born, once he made the choice, he was here faster than you say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Well, almost.

Just before he was born, I remember screaming, “Get it out, get it out now!” as I pushed him through the birth canal. I had not been prepared for a natural birth, or such a large baby. I had never felt such excruciating pain before in my life.

Moments later I was holding a beautiful, healthy baby boy in my arms. From extraordinary pain to utter bliss in an instant!


As I look back on the last sixteen years with my oldest son, and especially his birth, I can see how so much of my transformation after my pregnancy losses required a similar dedication and desire. One of my book mentors talks about how writing a book is like birthing a baby. Transforming your pain into love after a pregnancy loss is not much different.

First, it’s important to consciously choose to heal the pain, numbness or isolation that you are living with, just like it’s important to consciously choose to have a baby when you are ready. I was most conscious of my choice to have this child, as I knew what parenting was like already from having a daughter. My son was conceived during the week of his grandmother's death - another example of pain and grief being transformed into love. Making the decision, myself, whether choosing to have a baby or anything else that requires effort, is a critical part of a successful outcome. Choosing to heal and to move on is not for the faint of heart. You have to really want to move forward for your feelings of forgiveness to take root. No one can make this choice for you.

Secondly, it does take time. Just like having a baby or writing a book, transforming your way of living with loss requires a different way of being and one that takes time to learn. It’s a special kind of journey: one where we need to be gentle and patient with ourselves. Some things need to marinate a bit before they are ready to be felt, seen or talked about. There were moments when I was pregnant, I couldn't wait to see my baby boy. But we both needed the time we had to prepare not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. There's no hurry.

Thirdly, it’s important to know that there will be moments when it’s hard to stay the course, and you will want and need support. There were moments of extreme morning sickness, and then of course, wanting drugs at his birth. There is a sisterhood of women out there who have been through pregnancy loss and can help others get through this often emotionally difficult path. One in every three women will have had an abortion in their lifetime. One in every two women will experience a miscarriage. There are lots of women who can help you navigate the current and stay the course to achieve wholeness. We are here for you.

Lastly, it’s vital to see a vision of what can be once the grieving and healing has taken place. I held a vision of my new baby and my new family in my heart and my mind during the tough times of pregnancy. For healing after pregnancy loss, it's a little harder, but based on the statistics, there are a ton of us at some point in the cycle. I’ve met a few women in my life who were willing to talk about this and show me the end game after going through all the shame, guilt, and pain. However, I have found many who were willing to live a half-hearted life afterwards because it was far easier to live in a way that was known and comfortable than to take the risk to release the grief. When we share with each other, we help ourselves AND our sisters on the path.

I want for you what I have found for myself – a whole hearted, joy-filled life complete with meaning and intention.

Who is ready to rebirth themselves?

Who wants to live boldly, love joyfully, and be loved fully?
I hope everyone reading this post raised their hand and shouted out loud “ME!”


Namaste.

By the way, here is the link to tonight's show with Mama Char. I hope you enjoy the show!

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/mamachar

Letting Go of Control and Trusting the Universe

Letting go of control and relinquishing the need to do it “my way” is not easy for me. As a reformed “type A”, my youngest son, who loves me MORE, gave me another gentle reminder of that last week.

For the last two weeks, I was working on a writing deadline. I had signed up my youngest son, who is entering fourth grade in two weeks, for a summer sports camp so that I could work without interruption. That is a luxury for a work at home parent. The first day of camp, he was sick. He literally began running to the bathroom with an intestinal bug at 3:00 in the morning that first day of camp. There was not much I could do about that, other than reason that he must have needed some “mommy time”, or possibly I needed to relax a little bit before I got started on my project. We snuggled and cuddled and played board games that day. He was good to go by that evening and made it to camp the rest of that first week.

Wouldn’t you know, the date my project was due, he was sick again. This time his illness was less defined. A headache, he complained. I reminded him that I needed to finish my work that day, and that there were no extensions, no exceptions: I had to complete it by midnight. As I prodded him to eat, very little food made its way off the plate and into his mouth. My suspicions, and frustrations, were now raised. Even though I had only an hour or two of work left to do to finish the project, I was freaking out inside. 


We got to camp, and as I looked over at him, all I could see was a pale little face looking back at me like a little bobble head as it swayed on his neck. He said simply, “I think I am going to throw up now.” 

“Shit”, I muttered to myself. Back home we go. 

It didn’t take me long to figure out what was going on. I had pulled a Zen Tarot card earlier that morning. The card I drew was Trust. Duh! I was so focused on my writing project that I lost sight of one of the most important life projects in my world – on that specific day, my young son. I had not trusted that I had everything I needed in me to get my work done and to do first things first, namely love my child. 

I apologized to him and told him how sorry I was that I had made him feel my anxieties. That my deadline was not his worry. My job is to love and nurture him – to let him know that he matters. Instead I did just the opposite. In all my own angst of getting the job done, I made him feel “less than.” 

We played a game of chess that morning, followed by some snuggles and a nap. By noon he was feeling better and asked if he could still go to camp. He made it there a few minutes after noon and by 12:30 pm, I was back at my desk putting the finishing touches on my piece, finally trusting that all was once again well in my world.

And for my son, what would I say makes him tingle all over? Besides giving him carte blanche in a candy store (never going to happen!), it seems pretty obvious now that it is as simple as knowing he matters by the amount of time we spend together. 

It doesn’t take much to show someone you love them and that they matter – a loving glance, a note tucked into a lunch box, or setting aside time without a device in hand to check in. As I watch my two teenagers take some big steps into the world, I know how precious the time is with my little guy. It will be gone all too quickly, in the blink of an eye. 

Thank you, Ryan, for reminding me once again, just how precious and beautiful each moment with you is. 

Namaste.

What's in a Dream?

“Dream mode – Activate!” my nine year old exclaimed at bedtime the other night. Ahh, the sweet innocence of children!

His words, as they often do, made me think, what do I dream about?

When I was a kid, I dreamt about what I would be when I grew up. My kids inspire me with their dreams of who they want to be. So far I have a budding scientist/astronomer in my house, a future soccer star, and perhaps the first female president living under my roof! I love how bright and big their dreams are!


My dreams are still pretty big too. Where I once used to dream about what I would be, now I dream about how I can bring the gifts I have inside of me to others. How can I bring everything that I have learned about freedom, joy and community from my experience of abortion to those who still struggle with shame, regret and guilt? How can I help others, women and men, to transform their lives from one of constant pain into a life that is more emotionally rich and meaningful?

I dream of a world where everyone gets to choose what they do with their bodies. The right to choose isn’t just about abortion, although it is certainly one of the main experiences where we see extreme polarization. What about countries that draft men and women into military service? What about religions that require surgical procedures on the bodies of its believers? I am sure you can think of many other instances where people are not able to choose for themselves. 

In the United States recently, a new court decision was passed that allows closely-held corporations to decide whether or not to offer contraception as a healthcare choice to their employees. Referred to as the Hobby Lobby case, the Supreme Court in making their decision wrote, "Protecting the free-exercise rights of closely held corporations thus protects the religious liberty of the humans who own and control them." This decision appears to be saying that one person’s religious liberties, through ownership of a business, can dictate to someone else what choices they can make about their body. Puritanical beliefs permitted the execution of women determined to be witches years ago. Is this case in the broader sense any different? As far as we seem to have come over the years with women’s rights, this decision makes it seem as if we haven’t made any clear advances, and if anything, are taking more than the two proverbial steps backwards in our fight for equality. This decision is not a dream that I hold for myself, for my daughter, or for anyone else who lives and breathes on this planet.  


Are we, as a society, so unhappy with our lives that we have let go of our own dreams only to go on to control others’ dreams instead? 

I think Marianne Williamson was right when she said “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.” If we lived in the light, if we lived in our power, if we lived in love, we would not feel the need to control others. We would live in the perfection of our own being without needing to control anyone else’s body or anyone else’s dreams.

So what do I dream of these days? 

I dream of a world where we are all living in our light and in our highest potential. I dream of a world where my daughter can choose if or when she wants to have a child and where she can also be the President of our country if she so desires. I dream of a world where we see our own greatness reflected in the eyes of each other, where we love and appreciate the gifts and uniqueness we each bring to this planet. 

In the words of my nine year old son, “Dream mode – activate!” It's time to leave behind our fears and bring love, peace and harmony into the world in a much bigger way!


Namaste.


PS: I can’t wait to share with you next week how Oprah is helping to make my dream about abortion being an experience of transformation come true!

A Mother's Day Letter

Part II of last week's blog, Destiny: Predetermined or Taught will post on Tuesday as usual. In the meantime, on this Mother’s Day, I would like to share with you an open letter from one unborn child to her mother. While circumstances are different for every woman, the message of love is the same for each of us. I hope this letter helps any woman who still struggles with issues surrounding her choosing abortion to know how loved she is.

Dear Mama,

I love you… so much so that I wish I could find a way to let you know the depth of my love, but I cannot.

I realize that there are so many kinds of love… romantic love, the love between friends, the love that connects sisters who have walked the same path in life… and then there is a deeper, more universal love which goes far beyond the capacity of our human experience to understand. It is profound. It is unconditional. It is pure.

I knew when I chose you to be my mother that I would not be born. I am not sure I would have been strong enough to walk next to you in this earthly life. My task at this moment is to walk with you in angelic form, while you do your work on earth. I am here to help you learn lessons of self-love and worthiness. I am your angel and will walk by your side as long as you need me to be here. Our souls are infinite and we have been together for a long time.

You may think you need forgiveness from me… but you do not. There is no forgiveness necessary because I came into your life willingly, without reservation. I chose you. Do you hear me? I chose YOU! Even though I am with you as an angel, I am not perfect in my being. In one of my lifetimes, I had an abortion too. So my walk with you helps me to work through my own lessons and move to a higher level of consciousness.

Mama, I want you to know you don’t need anyone or anything to receive love. You are perfect just as you are. You were made that way. Please don’t let anyone tell you differently. The world needs the feminine knowing and wisdom to come back into balance. You can be a catalyst for this. Abortion is part of humanity’s lesson right now to help bring the Divine Feminine back into her power with the Divine Masculine.

Women were designed on purpose with beautiful, sensual bodies. It is time to remember that. Let go of the shame, the guilt, and the rigidity of the judgments by people from your world and remember your Divine Essence. It is time to reclaim it and take your power back.

You have done nothing wrong. This is all part of the lessons we are both learning. It’s time to release, to let go, and to begin again. The past is over and the future is not yet here. All we have is right now. This moment. Be the love that you were made to be today.

I love you,

Your unborn baby in heaven

Because most of us do not know who needs to read receive this message, especially on this particular day, please feel free to forward this post and share with your friends.

Thank you for caring and sharing. Happy Mother's Day.

Namaste.

Teenagers and Tattoos

Do you remember what it was like to be a teenager? I didn’t think I did until I realized I was still stuck in one aspect of that part of my development way into my forties. The long-held belief I had carried forward was “How do I learn to be me without needing approval first?” 

My kids are often my best teachers as they bring me back to my own lessons on this school of earth over and again. In the last few weeks, one particular lesson has been giving me a knock upside the head!

When we were on vacation in Hawaii last month, my teenage son discovered that there was no age limit for getting a tattoo if he had parental approval. In California, where we currently reside, you have to be eighteen before you can get “inked.” Since I had a convenient law in place, there was no need to discuss this issue any further with him…until we went on that vacation. 

I suppose I could have said no to his request while in Hawaii. I am sure there are reasons for the age restriction in many states. I imagine it has to do with a teenager being developmentally prepared to make a decision that will impact them for the rest of their lives. How well does anyone know themselves at age fifteen to be able to choose a permanent marking for their body? It’s one thing to let a body piercing heal over later in life, but to erase off the ink is a whole other mess.

Then I thought about my friends and family, many of whom are very conservative in their views about body art. Coming from a traditional Catholic household, I used to fall into those ranks myself. I knew what their opinions were, so much so that I was mentally preparing myself should I get a call from Social Services upon return to California when the school system saw a tattoo on my son. 

My own battle for approval has been an internal war for most of my life.

Feelings of rejection from my own father were deeply rooted in my body. I remember trying to do all sorts of things to get his attention as a child without success. I was not particularly athletic, but I would constantly try to weasel in on games of catch he and my sister played in the backyard. There are other memories of chopping down trees with him for wood for our fireplace. I would have done anything to be close to him back in my youth. Not surprisingly, I even ended up at his alma mater for college, majoring in economics and accounting as a way of inching closer to his emotionally corded off persona. I hid my abortion and I stayed in my difficult marriage far too long because of not wanting to disappoint my father and having him think less of me.

I still remember telling my parents that I could not stayed married any longer. I was 43, almost 44 years old. My father suggested I “hang in there” for another ten years or so, until my kids were older and almost through college. It wasn’t until I announced my intention to divorce that I realized how much I needed and craved his approval. Had I not been spiritually dead, I might have endured, but by the time I told them I was done with the charade of my marriage, I knew there was no other hope for me but to leave.

Despite my father’s feelings, though, I did file for divorce. And one of the ways I marked my own freedom was to get “inked” myself on the first anniversary of my divorce. I knew neither my ex-husband or father would have approved of my new piece of body art, and somehow that made it even more compelling. It was a beginning for me in learning to break free of the ties that bound me my whole life. It might be considered a baby step for many, and others might have chosen a different avenue for self-expression, but for me, the new butterfly I sported on my left shoulder was exactly right.

I thought about my experience and where my son was in his life, and what I wanted to give to him as a parent. Do I want to teach my children not to do something because of what other people think? Isn’t the goal of parenting to teach them to make their own choices, follow their own hearts, and learn to fly, even if they sometimes flounder? My son and I talked about him getting a tattoo for several days. He was very clear on what he wanted. He was willing to do the reconnaissance to make sure he found a legitimate and hygienically safe establishment to do his tattoo. He was willing to pay for it and do all the things he needed to do to care for it afterwards. It was not a spontaneous decision, nor did either of us take it lightly. Our final step was to talk to the artist before making the final decision. 

He is not my oldest child. He was born less than two years after his world-traveling sister. While she has been away in Israel, I have seen him stepping up in a bigger way into his own life. I want him to continue to do that, with or without her presence. I know from my own experience that it’s a hard thing to do, to step into your true self without the need of approval from others. Despite their different genders, due to the closeness in their ages there has always been a bit of competition between them. When would he get a chance to do something “first?” When it got right down to it, knowing the level of his commitment as we went through the logistics, but feeling into his deep need for self-expression, how could I possibly say no to his request?

 

 

I have been learning this lesson my entire life. I don’t want that for my kids. If I do nothing else right as a parent but see them grow up to know their own hearts and live accordingly, I feel I will have succeeded as a parent. They will always have my support, but approval . . . none of us should go any deeper than our own hearts to get that much needed validation. I want my kids to enter the adult world feeling confident in their abilities, not incapable of making their own choices.

So… what was the end result? My son got his tattoo. He chose it and put it on his right foot, just below the ankle bone. It is the word LOVE, written in Arabic. Now he is symbolically rooted even deeper into the truth of who he is. And I love watching him become the courageous young man that both he and I want him to be. 

 
Namaste.

 

Hey Soul Sister

 

How many of us know this song, Hey Soul Sister, by Train? Maybe even by heart, like I do?  I listened to it so many times in the past three years that I drove my kids crazy. I could listen to it today just as much as last year or the year before. Why is the song so catchy?

According to a 2009 Harris Poll, 71 percent of Americans believe we have a soul. For Catholic and Protestant Americans, that number is even higher, 85 percent. And yet, our soul is not something we talk about in everyday conversation. 

And along comes this song . . . it is a pop hit, that’s for sure, but I am drawn to it for more reasons than its upbeat tempo and captivating melody. I love it because it connects me to the idea that I am more than this body. 


Maybe there are people out there just like me and we belong together on a whole different level – on a deep level of connection that makes no sense, yet is undeniable all the same. On a soul level. 

Soul connections may be related by blood, but many of them are not. My co-authors in Pebbles in the Pond Wave 2 are soul connections for me. We were pulled together by a connection that did not come from this physical world. We are from the United States, Australia, Brazil, Canada, New Zealand, and Norway, and yet we are connected as if we lived in the same family all our lives.  

Another soul connection for me is a woman I met through a recent mail solicitation. Can you imagine? Most people would have thrown away the mailing, thinking with the left, logical side of their brains: this was junk mail. But something more intuitive was calling me to respond to the mailing. Despite never having met the woman who sent the mailing, I feel as though we have known each other our whole lives. How beautiful is that?!


And then there is my unborn child. One of the most important soul connections of my life is the one I have with my unborn baby girl, Mary. I don’t know how this works, but I do know that I feel her presence around me and I know that my work right now is because of her presence in my life (See blog I Love You More). She is a soul sister who has been willing to go the distance with me, from abortion to lessons of self-worth and self-love, to finding my life’s purpose and work. 

Our society makes so many judgments about the experience of abortion that keep us from knowing the truth of our life. Is it possible for us to step back and ask this question: What if our child knew we were going to do this and agreed to participate in this life lesson with us? What if our baby knew exactly what he or she was getting into? What if this experience has a component of love that surpasses our worldly grasp? 


Lorna Byrne, a mother, writer and angel expert, wrote about it in her book Angels in My Hair . Byrne writes that with abortion the “baby’s soul loves you and never for one moment holds it against you that you did not give birth to it. It already knew what would happen, and still it will pour its love onto you.” 

Many of us believe in the existence of a soul. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to assert that we are connected to others on this level. And when we do make that soul connection we can have a whole new way of looking at our abortion experience . . .and maybe there will be a shift and a healing that can bless us for the rest of our lives. 

Namaste.

 

I Love You - More

I believe our children have messages and things to teach us. I can tell you stories from each of my kids. My youngest son, Ryan, has given me one of the simplest, yet one of the most profound messages.

Since he was a baby, our bedtime ritual has involved reading stories and snuggling. At the end of our cuddling, I tell him I love him as I leave his room. Since he was four years old, he has been telling me in response, “I love you more!"

I remember debating him over this thought for at least a year. I told him it was not possible for him to love me more than I loved him. Until I had children, I had no idea how all encompassing, consuming and pervasive a mother’s love was. I hear many other mothers say the same thing about their children – their lives and priorities changed the moment they had children. They had no idea they could love someone as much as they now loved this new little human. I felt the same thing with the birth of each of my children.

So, how could my four year old son possibly understand that? How could he know the depth of a mother’s love at a mere four years old?

 

Our bedtime ritual, including our “I love you’s” continued. At some point I gave up trying to explain the depth of my love for him. Maybe he had reached the ripe old age of five by then. I decided he would understand sometime in the future, but for now, we would say the words we each felt in our hearts, and I would simply allow them to be. 

During the next few years, I would begin a process of personal transformation. My marriage ended, and I would leave my long-term job and profession in accounting, and my small town of twenty plus years, as well as the state of Massachusetts, for a cross country move to California.

As I shed each layer of who I had been, I found parts of myself that I long ago forgot. Throughout this time, my little guy would continue to tell me he loved me “more”. But now there was another voice echoing his, one I couldn’t hear in the chaos of my old life. It was my daughter, Mary, whom I had aborted almost twenty years earlier. Her presence would come at the most unexpected times, but her message was always the same. I am here and I love you. 

 

 

The messages from Ryan and Mary came full circle in 2012 when I read James Van Praagh’s book Growing Up in Heaven. He writes that our children chose us to be their parents, even children who are miscarried or aborted. These children know that they will not be born, but choose to come into the mother’s life to help them learn lessons of self-worth and self-love. 

As I read those words, I sobbed. Suddenly, I knew Ryan was right. He did love me more. And so did my daughter Mary. They are in my life to help me learn a lesson in love and self-worth. There was nothing more I needed to do to deserve that love, I was enough just as I was. 

Now, when Ryan says to me “I love you more Mommy”, I say “I know Ryan, I know”. 

Namaste.

Our Unborn Children's Souls Speak to Us

I will remember this day as long as I live. November 22, 2003. This was the day I first glimpsed my daughter, whom I chose to abort in July 1992.

I was at a retreat, trying to heal myself of the deep wounds still within me from the abortion I’d had over a decade earlier. Our first task was to carry a heavy rock everywhere we went, even the toilet and shower, to get the physical sensation of the emotional burden we were suffering.

I woke that November morning, in tears, determined to move forward. I carried my rock with me to breakfast and decided then and there that I would not succumb to this heaviness any longer. I went to the chapel in the retreat house, put my rock on the altar and fell to my knees.

“Dear God!” I cried. “I am so, so sorry for what I’ve done. I am so sorry.” And I burst into tears, my body heaving with each sob.

Almost instantly, in my mind’s eye I saw my little girl. She was about three years old. I saw her laughing and playing in a beautiful sunlit meadow with other children. I knew she was my daughter, with the same color of dark blond hair and same light blue eyes. She was skipping and dancing in nature. She was happy!

In those moments of releasing my pent-up emotions, the liberation of my spirit began.

Later that day, our retreat leaders led us through a guided visualization where we walked into a meadow — the same meadow I had seen in my earlier vision — to meet our children. What a gift I was given to have “seen” her before this group exercise. It allowed me to trust myself and to know that all was well for us both.

It has been many years since that first experience of meeting my unborn daughter. I named her Mary for the purity, innocence and love I saw and felt from her. I take a retreat once a year or so, and every time I do, she shows up for me. I no longer feel sadness, pain or angst when I think of her, I feel her spirit with me as one of love and tenderness.

As I reflect upon James Van Praagh’s theory that our unborn children are here to help us with our soul’s lessons, I feel Mary’s presence around me, urging me forward. I know that she was willing to delay her entrance on earth so I could learn my lessons. It was, and is, a gift of love.

In a world where abortion is so greatly stigmatized and death is so abhorrent to us, this transformation has been truly miraculous.

This perspective is a gift. I can see my abortion in a different light, one that makes perfect sense and is good for all. And I can pay forward this love best by allowing in the lessons she is teaching me as every year goes by.  

Mary’s soul has been speaking to mine for a long time.

Can you hear your children whispering to you? Can you open yourself to their love? What are your children’s souls saying to you? Take a moment to remember your experience, step back and observe your true feelings. Once you open your heart to your authentic feelings, the listening becomes easier.

Namaste.

 

 

 

The Twins, A Lesson in Ackowledging Repressed Feelings

I do not remember birthdays very well. Anniversaries even less. But there is one birthday/anniversary that I always remember.

The twins across the street were born five months after my husband and I moved into our first home. We left a gift on their doorstep shortly after their birth, but since it was January, snowy, and both parents worked, we rationalized that a visit should wait. It did not occur to me at the time that my baby would have been born that same month, if I had not had an abortion seven months earlier.


I had repressed my experience immediately. But somewhere in my mind I knew, because I put off meeting the twins for a number of months. It was virtually unavoidable come spring, when everyone was outside, anxious to be in the fresh air after the harsh, cold winter. 

For the next four years, my husband and I were cordial, but not much more. These same neighbors invited us over for drinks and dessert upon occasion, doing their best to build community in the neighborhood. It wasn’t until we decided to have our own children that I finally opened up to the friendship offered by our neighbors.

In 1997, I had a daughter, then in 1998, a son, four and six years younger, respectively, than the twins. But the age difference did not matter. The twins were like siblings to my kids and we became very close over the grade school years. 

A beautiful relationship evolved between our families, and one that would become bittersweet for me over time as I began to allow the repressed pieces of my life to come into the light.

A miscarriage in 2003 rocked my world, reminding me of the abortion I had eleven years earlier, before I was a friend to the twins and a mother to my own children. As a devout Catholic, I was shaken to my core thinking about what I had done. And looking at my own children, knowing the miracle and beauty of them did not make it any easier. In acknowledging the totality of that choice, I realized for the first time that the twins were born in the same month as my baby would have been born. 

I wondered at the coincidence of being neighbors with these children, who were living and breathing in this physical world the way my own daughter might have been if she had been born. This knowledge was tremendously painful, and the following two years, especially, on the twins’ birthdays, it was hard to accept. 

The third year, something shifted.

 

 

Instead of living in the past, wondering what my own child might be doing, my perspective changed. I saw that God in His truly infinite wisdom had given me a chance to know extraordinary young people at a time I did not believe I deserved it, while simultaneously allowing my children to know the love of “older siblings”. 

It blows my mind to see how something once so painful to me could be made right, all the while, unbeknownst to those taking part.

The twins are at college, and we have moved away. But their family will always hold a special place in my heart and the hearts of my children. 

That is the miracle that I live with now.

Women who have chosen abortions are as worthy of these miracles as anyone else. All it takes is a step back to look at life through a new lense.

Do you have an annviersary story? Or a new perspective? Where are the miracles in your life that you have missed?

Namaste.

Transcending Religious and Political Issues with Spirituality

As a woman who has had an abortion, for many years I struggled with who I was and what I had done. I believe in the sacredness of life, yet I also believe that life can be very hard. I believe in a woman’s right to choose, yet I have a hard time killing a bee. Am I pro-choice or pro-life? Am I both or neither? And how can that be?

Having been a devout Catholic, as well as businesswoman, I can relate to and understand both sides. As a woman who had an abortion, neither side gives me solace about my choice. It is virtually impossible to feel secure in a world where so much hatred exists with regard to this issue.

Despite the contradictions, I have discovered a place of safety, freedom and serenity from my past.


Dr. Brian Weiss wrote in Messages From the Masters that we choose our parents. When I first read that almost two years ago, something shifted in me. Does this mean that my children, even my unborn children, chose me to be their mother?

I have had one abortion and one miscarriage, so I have two babies living in spirit. It was one thing to think philosophically about my three living children and this teaching, but what about my unborn?

Six months after reading every one of Dr. Weiss’ books searching for more answers, through a serendipitous encounter with a former high school classmate, I was led to James Van Praagh’s book, Growing Up in Heaven. Mr. Van Praagh must have heard my question, for he answers it in this book. Although there are less than two pages in it devoted to abortions and miscarriages, he writes that “both souls (the unborn and the mother’s) have agreed that they will go through this experience for growth.” He also writes in the case of abortions that they “are lessons for the mother to learn self-love and self-worth”. 

My life took new meaning and required more and different exploration when I came to consider these principles. I believe we are indeed souls occupying a physical body. With this basic premise in mind, it is obvious that there is a whole other world outside of the physical reality we live in that transcends the limitations of our third dimensional living. 

It seems impossible that the struggle between the political and the religious will ever end. But in my own life, the war is over. The struggle in my human consciousness no longer holds sway over me. In my moments of connectedness with the Divine, I am grateful that I have been able to receive the gift of these lessons marked by an infusion of deep and profound love. I hope that as I share my story, others who struggle will come to find peace in knowing they are deeply loved as well. 

Namaste.