The Pit

Psalm 88:4
I am counted among those who go down to the Pit; I have become like one who has no strength

This week I attended a perinatal bereavement conference. I was asked by someone at my job if I wanted to attend. I routinely deal with women and families dealing with losses, and I felt it would help me in my job. I like education which helps me be a better nurse. As I sat in this conference, and started hearing stories, I started dredging up my own experiences with pregnancy and loss. I lost my first pregnancy early. It was a very welcome and long desired baby. I had just enough time to tell everyone I knew that we were going to be parents, and start adjusting to our new life. When the bleeding started, a hole opened up that I didn't know existed.
"It was a woman's trial. Something no man could fully understand. After moons of speaking to the child, feeling it move inside you, seeing it grow up in your dreams, a powerful love, like no other developed. The shock of loosing that child, of suddenly realizing you would never look into its living eyes- it stunned the soul." p. 126 of People of the Silence by Gear and Gear.

One of the last speakers used the image of open-pit mines to show us what this grief felt like to people. He used it to explain why most people back away from this grief. It is like standing at the edge of one of these mines, disoriented and afraid. People usually back away from it and say things to soothe their own great anxiety. As he was saying these things, so much of my experiences made complete sense.

After my miscarriage, people either avoided me, and said stupid things like "It was meant to be", "At least you can have more children" and many other things. Their words were meant to be comforting and helpful, but they weren't. They meant for these words to fill in a hole, but this hole was bigger than a city. Afraid of this hole, they move away from it.

Of course, there were others. A co-worker of my husband sent us flowers. Some people sent us cards. I think the nicest thing anyone did for me was a simple hug. I was at work, avoiding people, looking at a bulletin board. He walked up beside me, put his arm around me and simply said. "I've been thinking of you."

Although my pit has been a large sorrowful part of my life. I can certainly say, now, that I wouldn't trade it for anything. I have been blessed to see my own experience of this hole as a connection with other women. I have managed to stand on the brim along side others as they try to make sense of this feeling. I have had several conversations with women as I try to remember that Psalm that talks about the Pit. I tell them to read it, knowing that the Psalmist tried his best to articulate what that sort of grief is. I think that my experience gives me the gift of being fully present, as others have been present for me. It is truly a privilege to spend this sort of time with others. I feel sorrow for those who spend their time backing away. I understand that the depth of pain, can also be matched by joy.

So, this is how my life seems to work. The universe put me in a place to help me. I went to this conference under the pretense of helping others. I, now, see that it was in a very profound way, it was simply to help myself. If there weren't enough coincidences in this conference; I realized, yesterday, that it happened on the anniversary of that loss 16 years ag. I have been given an incredible gift of healing among incredible people. I hope that I can begin, in some way, to repay this gift.