My husband and I are trying for a baby. We’ve been pregnant twice in four months. I’ve just lost the second one. I suspect the reason why and my acupuncturist and I will work it out together. I’m not soliciting for advice.
But yesterday morning while the sadness seeped into my heart, and I ate my comforting breakfast of semolina and rapedura sugar (I only eat this when I need heart nurturing), I knew that the one thing I could do was work on my rewrite for my story for uni, and hand it in.
Which I did.
I spoke to myself in words to get through the day. Maybe I can’t create children yet, but I can create stories.
And the reason I can create stories and poetry, is because I’ve persisted. It’s a cliche, but horse riding experience from my youth taught me one very important thing. Get back on the horse. Even if you are bleeding or broken, get back on the horse. Walk calmly across the paddock to the horse sweetly eating grass and eyeballing you sideways, and get your feet back up in the stirrups. Or lead it to a log and jump on its back. Or if you can’t get back on, take it by the reins and lead it, but don’t walk away from the horse. Don’t give up.
On the positive side, we are falling pregnant easily enough, and although I am losing them, it is early on and I’m not haemorrhaging. It’s actually a clear parallel with my writing process at the moment. I have no problem conceiving stories. I can do short ones. I haven’t worked out yet how to do long ones, to take a fully fleshed novel into existence.
I don’t think there’s an exact correlation between the two; i.e., I don’t believe that if I write a novel I’ll magically have a child. But I do think there’s some underlying spiritual issue here about my ability to create, or my belief in my ability to create something good and worth while. I’m still scared of bringing something awful into the world, and being responsible for it. I’m still scared of carrying on the mess that my family was. These are things I need to face, head on. So while this is very personal, I’m sharing this here because it helps me to stare it baldly in the face, and to not back away. It helps me get back on the horse.
I won’t give up. The stories are coming; there is a difference in how I feel. So too in my body. I have a certain bloody mindedness that kicks in when I face a major obstacle or challenge. I get angry and I get active, the anger fuelling my activity and taking me through the depression that sometimes results from failing. I know I’ll get there. My mind is very good at making things happen when I really want them too.
It is only a matter of time, perseverance and addressing the root cause of my creative health (procreation being the ultimate creative act), none of which is a bad thing.
In the meantime I shall continue to chop wood and carry water.