Eyes wide open.
- At May 12, 2013
- By Molly Chester
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4
Today’s my Mother’s day. We’ve all got a mum, and we share a unique experience of this universal day. When I was a kid, my mom was really good at nurturing. My memories involve a cool, soft sheet spread on the sofa when I was feeling puny. Having to tell her “3 things that happened today” when I got home from school, and dinner on the table every night, a task that I can’t even begin to comprehend. She helped me explore my imagination and took me to ballets. She was and is a work in progress, but she’s become very honest about that fact. She’s raw, creative and real. She’s developed a resiliency that I think runs counter to how most age. And, her ability to grow into acceptance of her sharp edges and imperfections is teaching me how to let go of my own battles with perfectionism. I’ve found the personal growth of my parents’, even from my perspective as a 34-year old grown adult, teaches me faster than almost anything else. Their willingness to adapt, learn, change, feel and grow sparks deep inspiration and even quiet skills to do the same within my own life. I find it freeing to think that I don’t have to be perfect to parent. I just have to keep living, accepting and becoming.
Back in August of last year, I had a miscarriage. I was four weeks along, which isn’t much on paper, and I thought I would breeze through the aftermath and move on pretty quickly. I live on a farm, where birth and death are all around. But, it didn’t happen quite as quickly as I expected. The miscarriage triggered anxiety, which I haven’t experienced since I was in my early 20’s. For those of you who haven’t known it, anxiety feels like intense fear. John brought my mom out, so that I had another woman who could listen as long as I needed to talk. I couldn’t sleep very well, and sleepless nights added to the chaos. For me, the miscarriage sparked an analysis of what was working or not in my life. Though lots of things were working, I had a few areas that needed renovation, and the anxiety shed light on those dark spots. After walking through those very real changes and needs, I was puzzled by the remaining anxiety.
Until a wise friend said, “Molly, when you feel anxiety, try finding a quiet spot and ask yourself if you’re sad.” I did, and I was. Each time, I had an overwhelming flood of grief, resulting in a peaceful, non-anxiety ridden calm. Here my anxiety was simply trying to get my attention. I was trying not to feel, and the anxiety was not going to let me get off that easy. It knew that I’d be missing all the gifts that come when you travel through feelings with your eyes wide open. Along with learning to feel, taking long walks and simply allowing the passage of time, a kind doctor helped me with one other practical piece of the pie that might help you, if ever in a similar situation. When a woman has a miscarriage that early in the game, it doesn’t have anything to do with the health of the man or woman; it was something amiss with the fetus. That simple little insight took away lots of the questioning.
As odd as it sounds, I’m grateful for our miscarriage. I feel at peace with the loss, but if it ever wants to rear its head again, I’m willing to feel what it has to say. Many experience a miscarriage as a Mother, no matter if the child came to term or not. I respect and celebrate that experience, and I understand it. I do feel subtle waves of blue today, Mother’s Day, but most days, I actually have experienced the miscarriage as a Student. Our very temporary baby gave me perspective, insight and wisdom in bushels, and I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the things that I was taught.
Two days ago, a pregnant heifer at Apricot Lane gave birth to a gorgeous light brown calf on Friday afternoon, just as the sun was softening the edges of the farm. My little niece Sophie was in town, and she picked the name “Goldie.” Time will tell if I am to be the Mother of a human, and I’m ok with that. But either way, this journey is incredible, so long as when I feel blue, I cry.
Anna Wildman
Beautiful post, Molly. Thank you for having the courage to share your story.
Megan Schrecengost
I love you, Molly. That was heartbreaking and wonderful to read. And hello again, sweet Goldie. I’m so glad you’re here.
Faith
This was an inspiring post, Molly! Thanks so much for sharing!
You seem like a beautiful person inside & outside :)
Wishing you many blessings!
Adrianne
I just wanted to tell you that I connected with the idea that anxiety replaces sadness when we try not to feel. I felt exactly the same way leading up to the anniversary of a loved one’s death. I guess I did not want to throw myself wholeheartedly into the grief so I just tried to ignore it and anxiety is exactly what I felt. I wish you all the best on your journey–praying that you will have the blessings your heart desires.