By Miriam Maslin
I was visiting with my daughter and grandchildren when my cellphone rang and I heard the words that a doula hopes never to hear: “Miriam, we just did an ultra-sound and they told us there’s no heartbeat…”
I was deeply moved when Elisheva and Daniel shared with me that it was clear to them that all parents have specific tasks in raising each of their precious children. They understood that this sweet little neshama (soul) needed to complete his work in the world only through having a brit milah (ritual circumcision) and a proper Jewish burial.
They chose to pray for people in need of healing, for childless couples, during contractions. They were able to take their own pain and turn it into a plea for others who were also in pain. I sat outside the room, knowing that sometimes privacy is the greatest support we can give.
After a while, Daniel came out and asked that I go inside and speak with Elisheva.
“I’m stuck,” she told me. “I feel like I’m not progressing and I don’t know what to do.”
“Elisheva, you’re in such an amazing place spiritually…I have a question. Have you allowed yourself to cry?”
This beautiful young woman looked at me and asked, “Daniel and I know and accept with love that this is G-d’s will. How can I allow myself to be sad?”
The world we live in today is interested in “curing” diseases, in “fixing” problems and yet, sometimes things cannot be fixed. If I only see goodness when things go my way, then how do I cope when they do not?
“Healing” is not about “fixing”. When I’m involved in a healing process, I’m asked to enter into relationship with my pain. I am never asked to negate my loss, only to sit with it and see where it needs to take me.
In gardening, there is never any new growth from the place on a tree where we have pruned. And yet, it’s because we’ve done this work that new growths are allowed to sprout.
Yes, I can accept that this loss has been given to me from G-d with love and yes, I am in pain. I must honor both places in order to ultimately heal and come to a place of wholeness.
I left Elisheva alone in the room to sit with her grief. After many tears were shed, she began to find that her labor was progressing. She had given her body what it needed in order to do its work.
When the time came for her to birth her child, she pushed with incredible joy and light. It was an honor and a privilege to be with her. And then, once she held her son in her arms, she allowed herself to honor the moment. She mourned her sweet, lifeless little boy. She gave herself permission to be.
It’s all about holding paradox. We dance with the contradictory truths in our lives in order to become a vessel great enough to hold them all. This is why we’re here. This is how we ultimately will heal ourselves and the world.
May 4, 2008
