Haka

I like what Gal said about my recent experiences. "That is some powerful energy around you."

Not positive, not negative. Just powerful. My spiritual work consists of desperately trying to remain non-judging. And yet, the first dead bird dragged into my house by my puppy becomes rife with symbolism and portents doom. Truth of it is, there are no bad omens in Electric Angie-land. But in Grief-stricken, Sad, Lucy-less Angie-land, my primitive lizard brain cannot help but beware the ides of March.

:::

Not at all pleasant to be around.

That's a fairly apt description of me for the last few days. The three As: Anxious. Angry. Angst-y.

I've described my anxiety in the last few posts. Here is angry and angsty: today, I checked our local town yahoo parents group email. I gave it its own email address, mainly because I thought I had to, so every few days I read it and catch up. "Birth Announcement." Let me preface this by saying, never have I seen a new baby announcement on this board. It is primarily set up for babysitting suggestions, yard sales, local restaurant/pediatrician reviews, and general announcements for kid-friendly things to do in my area. OCCASIONALLY, someone will get into a parenting-related topic like, "What organic repellent do you use on the children for mosquitos?" But generally, it is a pretty good resource for our area,and pretty benign on the dogma/personal information front. So, I was surprised when I read this announcement: "Just thought I'd share with you that our little one came into the world. I gave birth to baby ENTIRELY UNASSISTED. No meds. No one at all to help. On the floor of our minivan. And we're all fine! Email me if you want the whole story." This isn't the direct quote. I cut out the personal information part, but the highlights are there.

I deleted myself from the board.

It's not that I feel jealous of this person and her new baby, or even know her at all. It's a cute quirky story. But it's the "And we're all fine!" thing that got me. Of course you are all fine. I just don't think everyone in my town would want to see my baby announcement ending with "And we're all fucked up now!"

It was a rash decision, but I'm in no place right now. But it made me feel deeply ashamed of that part of me. The part that calls the township to find out the noise ordinances. The part of me ready to email the yahoo group leader about the proper use of the board. Ashamed that I want to impose my grumpiness on others. So, I took my misplaced anger, and decided I best go if I can't handle the content. Not them. They are in happy world where babies live. And I AM happy people are having healthy babies, even in awful, not-so-perfect situations. I just don't feel like reading about it right now. I just wanted to know where I can get a cheap burrito with my kid, dude.

:::

I have been disturbed and anxious about being so disturbed and anxious. This isn't me. I'm not the negative, disturbed, anxious type. Clearly, all of our relationships change after our child dies, even our relationship with ourselves. I take steps now at the first sign of this crap. I step in and take charge of my new self. I treat me exactly like I would treat my best friend. "Let's get up, and get a shower, now. A shower will make you feel good, and a cup of tea." So I forced myself to check my anxiety in with a therapist. I actually saw a new therapist today, who also is a dead baby mama. Whew. A member of my tribe. It was a first session that felt like a third? (That's a good thing.) (BTW, I plan on seeing the Buddhist therapist again too at some point, but we did more meditating than therapy.)

"Come on, now, Angie, a little sweaty yoga will soothe your soul." And so, I did yoga this evening, and as I began Goddess position, I felt it deep within me. This power. It reminded me of the Haka, which is a traditional Maori dance. It is actually a war dance, and the New Zealand rugby team does the Haka in front of their opposing team to intimidate them. It fires up the crowd, and the players. And that is what I wanted suddenly--to be fired up in my dance. But I think my haka is a love war dance, because I felt this immense love. It warmed my belly first, and seeped into my arms, which looked strong somehow. Not flabby, as the mirror suggests, but with the strength of my youth. It filled me with love of my body and love of my strength, which strangely emanated today from exactly the place I used to think it didn't live--my vulnerability and my three As. As the practice moved into different poses, I let those feelings of war dance and power drift away, and the love take up residence in my extremities.

I thought today about how since reading blogs I have found out not just the one way a baby can die, but the thousands of ways babies can die before birth. But babyloss blogs are not handbooks on how babies can die, but handbooks on how we women survive, on how we grieve, on how we comfort, on how we become more compassionate, on how we love each other. These blogs are our haka for the world. Where we shake, and scream and dance, and threaten our enemies, and embrace ourselves. The place where we fire each other up with love, gentleness, compassion and kindness.

Powerful energy, as Gal would say.