Heartly, the immense impact of her short life in the flesh
Heartly’s Unique Blessingway Ceremony
I would like to share a bit about myself & my own journey with grief & motherhood. I start with my own stories because Story sharing from other women has been some of the deepest, most impactful medicine for my soul as I have walked with grief in my own life as I transformed from maiden into mother.
I am a woman who always knew, since I was a little girl that I wanted to be a mother some day. I practiced my mothering skills whenever possible, holding all the babies, feeding, changing diapers, just being near them. When my mother took me to the doctor I would take the free parenting magazines and read about the development of babies and children.
As I grew older I babysat as much as possible, nannied and was an au pair in france for a year to 3 little french girls.
Zoom forward to 2014 and I found myself childless and single, with a deep desire to be a mother. I had envisioned myself as someone who would enter motherhood in my 20’s, and have 3 or 4 children, so when I was 32 and a single maiden I was definitely disappointed to say the least. Then One day I decided to make a very intentional call out to what i call Universe, Mother Earth & to my soul babies, to bring me together with my soul flame, the father of my children. I created a 40 day ritual asking our soul babies to bring us together at Conscious Culture Festival and 40 days later on the Summer Solstice a little periwinkle butterfly led me to him. In our first few minutes of conversation we asked each other, are you single? How old are you? Do you have kids? Do you want kids? 2 weeks later he proposed, 3 months later we married, and a month after that we created our first tiny life together.
Having been obsessed with babies forever, attending births for years and supporting numerous women as they entered motherhood, I was elated to know I had a little wombling growing inside of me and was so excited for the full experience of pregnancy, birth and mothering.
2 weeks later, the night before we left for Hawaii on our honeymoon, I began to bleed, and I experienced my first birth, the early birth of my first baby. I was devastated. Owyn, my husband wasn't quite sure how to support me, but he did the best that he could & I felt nourished and held by the ocean waters as one drop of my blood became part of the whole ocean.
A few months passed & we created another spark of life, this time I focused on speaking to this wombling & asking them to stay. I couldn’t bear to think that my journey with pregnancy would include more death.
When I was 6 months pregnant, feeling my baby alive & moving inside of me I learned that my baby had no kidneys, & would not live once they were born. They might not even survive birth itself.
Oh my, I was so angry at universe, at the world, at my husband, I was irrational, i wailed and cried, making noises i have never made before. I was so angry at my body, at myself for deeply desiring to be a mother and that this was the path unfolding, filled with death rather than the birth & life I had yearned for.
We named our baby that same night, sex unknown, Heartly was her name. We had planned to wait till our baby was born to name them, but now that the only time we would have with them would be inside of me it felt good that they had a name.
In the months between knowing my baby’s fate and waiting for the birth, the grieving began, along with the memory making. I Read to her books like Blueberries For Sal while I myself ate blueberries, knowing that through her umbilical cord was the only way she would ever get to taste them. We took trips to see relatives so that they could “meet” Heartly while she lived inside of me. Close friends came and spent intimate meaningful time with Heartly and me.
My community rallied around and held a special Blessingway ceremony to honor Heartly’s short life. It was such a sacred blessing to be held by 15 other women of my community with honor and love. Holding space for my daughter, honoring me as mother knowing that I wouldn't get to mother her in the typical earthside way.
As her due date drew near I found myself worrying about the fact that I would literally be the one to push her outside of myself and that she would die when she was born. I worried I might not be able to or want to birth her.
Then, one Friday evening, her labor began. I did all that I could to slow it down, I didn’t want labor to be happening, I wanted more time. After two days and two nights, on Monday morning at 1:31 am, I birthed my daughter bum first, into a birthing pool on my living room floor. Halfway out she was moving, Owyn got to feel her move. She was alive, I lifted her to my chest, she never opened her eyes & died moments later in my arms after a few gasping breaths. I carried her around with me for over 34 hours, kissing her, examining her, bathing her, carrying her outside and into the sunlight & taking precious photos before allowing the funeral home attendant to take her body away.
This experience of losing my own child, my flesh and blood continues to be a transformative experience for me as I grieve and love & mother her endlessly.
Grieving in the early days and weeks looked like me being with my husband 24/7, never wanting him to leave my side. Our expressions of grief looked quite different, and yet we wove ourselves together in love. We took a road trip down the Oregon coast to be with the ocean and into the redwoods to be with the ancient forest. We sprinkled some of her ashes in a few places where I also released a few drops of her breast milk. It felt fitting to leave some nourishment with her body.
I had a difficult time making small talk with strangers without bursting into tears unexpectedly, embarrassingly. A simple trip to the grocery store didn’t feel simple anymore. The wound was still too deep for me to talk with my family and friends that were lost about how to support me and reaching out in different ways.
For me, grieving in this phase was very introverted and personal closed off from many of those that love me. I wrote about my experiences some during this time, a lot of which no one else has ever read. I read other women’s stories, women that had walked a similar path before me. I created little altars in my home as a way of remembering my daughter, held personal ceremonies for her almost daily. I spoke to Her as though she were there with me, sometimes feeling her spirit more than others. I spent a lot of time alone with the Earth. I received little signs from her from time to time that helped me believe that she was with me.
Within the first year of Heartly’s birth & death I had the opportunity to attend a retreat for bereaved mothers, where I had the blessing of being with others that were mothering babies in spirit, I was not alone. It really helped me to hear their stories, witness their strength & see that life continued on and that alongside grieving and loving their babies, they returned to joy in their own unique ways, in their own time. Some women had been mothering babies in spirit for many years, while others were within their first year, like myself. Although we all sat somewhere different on the path, and had variation in our stories, we all described the palpable bond of being with other mothers that “knew.”
Those first months and years were the most tender for me, including when I carried & birthed my next baby who is 5 years old today. Pregnancy, birth and mothering after loss each came with a new set of experiences and grief. I was fortunate to have a caring group of women in my life that walked the path alongside me. Remembering Heartly, & carrying the burden with me.
I will always continue to hold her in my heart, love her, celebrate her life and mother her in my own way.
In the last several years I have found myself called to walk with other women through their own experiences of love & loss. First it began with women in my community connecting me with others who were experiencing the death of a baby. That support I gave grew into me holding virtual circles for women who were also mothering babies in spirit. Together we created a safe container for women to show up & grieve, to speak their baby’s names, for their sorrow to be witnessed, for their baby’s lives to be known about and held by other mothers who “knew”.
The paths of grieving are infinite, as unique as each one of you and your experiences. None are better or worse than others, they just are. Grief, is ever evolving, looking different depending on the setting & the people and shifting over time, Ebbing and flowing like the Ocean. I believe that the opportunity for healing is endlesss and for many grief also never ends, as the love never ends.
Amana Be Love
