Naming Ourselves: How We Can Practice Loving Ourselves Even Through Loss
In my own life, as so many of you already know, the pain that holds me back is the inability to safely carry our child. My husband deserves to be a father, he is one with every fiber of his being and yet I cannot deliver him his baby. Even as I say that, I am rejoicing that I have a spouse, that I have a partner, however hard the journey may be. Certainly our blessings come with one hand and are snatched away by another.
In June of last year I wrote to you all that the two great dreams in my life were crumbling. Our surrogacy had just fallen through and only days after we found out that the hide we were building had not been properly permitted by the builder, it was not to be either.
I couldn't see through to a time when the dreams in my life could come true. I couldn't list myself as something, someone I loved. In fact, I loathed myself, my body for its inadequacy, I listened to the birth announcements of people I love more than my own heart and felt as if I were floating, scrambling, trying to get to the nearest closed door so that I could feel my back slide down the wall, feel my hands clasped impossibly tightly around my mouth, stifling my own cries of agony.
I no longer stifle them, they no longer come. Almost a year later I still feel that light, dazed feeling when I hear that someone I love will be blessed with what I wanted more than anything in this world, but I also embrace the news with an open heart. Why? How?
I have learned to love myself, to want myself, to value myself. I have learned to dance in the rain and when I did, the sun finally came out.
Next month we move into our new home, one much more beautiful, more convenient, happier, and closer to family than the old one ever could have been and I know I know in my heart that another short year from now I will be sharing our news, finally that news, the only news that we have truly prayed for, sacrificed for, died a little for, and learned to live, truly to live for.
This year it is a home, next year it is our child. I believe. I love. I rejoice.
Today I hope you are courageous enough to believe in your dreams, to put yourself somewhere waaaay at the top of that list. Believe that you are enough. Everything is just as it should be. And you are enough.
Lots of Love,