Mother’s Day. I hated this day for four years, starting with the year I miscarried in 2012.
Truth is, I didn’t know why I was hurting because when I was in my early 20s, I did not even want to have kids. But as we go through the natural progression in our lives, in this case, getting married, children immediately come into the picture.
I thought that having children was easy. But, boy, was I wrong!
When I lost Basti+ the first time, I was devastated.
Statistics say that miscarriages occur in one out of four pregnancies, but no one really talks about it. When I went through my first miscarriage, I almost gave up on my marriage, my career, my everything. I wanted to pack my bags, go home to my Mama and just cocoon myself forever until the pain disappeared.
But I guess, in some weird way, the pain never really goes away. So here I am, 10 years later and with my two rainbow babies, Santi and Lucia, there is still this heart-shaped hole somewhere in my soul for the love I have for the two boys I lost in 2012 and in 2013, Basti+ and Basti+ (I never really knew their genders because I lost them both in the first trimester but somehow, the heart just knows) –
I wish that I knew what I know now so that I could have dealt with my suffering better. If you are here, reading this because Mother’s Day hurts so much, please allow me to say these words to you:
It is not your fault. You are not your uterus. You are not your miscarriages. You are not your disorder. You are loved, no matter what.
For months, I castigated myself – thinking about where I went wrong or what I could have done better to save my pregnancies. But, I now know that there was really nothing we could have done. We were doing our best at every single point in those pregnancies to the amount of knowledge we had on how to deal with the situation.
While this thought hurts, I have realized over time that there are just things outside our circle of control. And whenever it is outside our control, it becomes someone else’s business — God’s. We do everything in our power, but there is still a Higher Force at play at the end of the day.
And you may shout at me now, asking me why this has to happen to you. Or why does God allow so much suffering in your life.
I understand what you feel, my dear APAS Mama, because I have been in that pit so often.
I couldn’t give you an answer that can probably assuage your bleeding heart. So instead, I will share what I have learned through this experience and some tips as a life and grief coach.
Because I lost my children, I appreciated life more.
Because I lost my children, I realized that I do not control the events in my life 100%, and I have to have a little faith.
Because I lost my children, it doesn’t mean that I am not whole. Yes, there is this hole inside me, but I can fill it with love for the children I have lost, even if they are not physically with me.
Because I lost my children, I understood how life is so fragile and that we should do our best to appreciate every moment we have.
Because I lost my children, I understood the capacity of the human heart to take in so much pain. And at the same time, transmute it to love. I still had my husband, who was probably hurting as much as I did but just didn’t show it time because he needed to “be strong.”
I would have never figured this out when I was in my grief, but the losses in my life made me into the person I am today.
Because I lost my children, I found my advocacy. It fueled the fire in me to spread awareness about the condition in my book Lost but Found so that other APAS mamas can find an explanation for why they have lost their pregnancies or why they could not conceive.
Because I lost my children, I found renewed vigor to take a hard look at how I was living (because they say autoimmune disorders are caused by stress) and changed bit by bit. I turned into holistic wellness and became a certified aromatherapist, yoga practitioner, and certified mindfulness and meditation teacher, all geared to attain mind-body-soul wellness and counter stress.
Because I lost my children, I found strength. And love. And submission to things outside of my control.
Because I lost my children, I found my calling. There was a reason purpose for everything that happened in my life, even if I couldn’t understand it back then.
Because I lost Basti and Basti, my appreciation for Santi and Lucia is beyond words. Indeed, they are my rainbow after the storm, and I strive to become a better mother.
Yes, because I lost my children, I found my soul.
I know that you may not resonate with any of these now, and you may be grieving.
I don’t even know the answer if you would ask me that if had a choice then, would I go through all that shit – maybe. Maybe not. But I have long released attachment to what-could-have-been and chose to move forward.
But Mama, if it feels like you cannot swim anymore and you are sinking, please know this – there are people who love you no matter what. And your children, while they are not physically here, will always, ALL-WAYS, call you their Mama.
Here are some things that I hope can help today:
- Do not be guilty when you feel down today. Your pain is your pain, Mama. Do not be guilty of feeling these emotions. In our society, we have been taught to not break down. To just be strong. To not cry. But one of the most cathartic feelings is letting all the emotions out. To feel when you need to feel. However, we should also be mindful that we do not sink into these feelings and ask for help when needed.
- Spend time with people who love you. When I had my miscarriages, I thought I was all alone in my heartache. But later on, I realized that there were so many people who loved me – my family, my friends, and my husband most of all. In my grief, I pushed everyone away. Little did I know that their love could pave the way to my healing.
- Prioritize self-care. Taking care of yourself in this season is not selfish, it is VITAL for your mental health. Get a massage, diffuse some of your favorite essential oils, and binge-watch your favorite K-drama. The idea is not to get you from feeling zero to 10 but to raise the notch even just to Level 1.
I truly hope these help, love! And I am sending all my love to you.
To all of us who have loved and lost, whether a little angel or our dearest Mama, may we all find grace in our pain. To quote one of my favorite authors, Rumi, “The wound is the place where the light gets in.”
Happy Mother’s Day to you all.
Love,
Balot
P.S. If you would like to connect, let’s meet on Instagram. See you there!
