Since I lost my baby three days ago, I’ve been waiting for the lesson—why my spirit drew this awful and dark experience into my aura. 

“What’s the lesson?  What do I need to learn?  What do I need to do differently?”

Then it came—just like that.  The WAKE UP CALL.

I thought I lived gratitude.  I thought I lived grace.  I thought I walked and lived in the light, and helped teach this to others.

But Sister, losing a child I never got to hold has moved me way up the scale in the gratitude department.  It’s been THE WAKE UP CALL.

And I am hearing it, loud and clear.

Helping my kids brush their teeth and put on their PJ’s will never be the same again.  Making them breakfast, packing their lunches, picking them up from school or yoga class, and yes, even doing their laundry—these activities that were formerly taken for granted, or at times when I was a super-tired Super-mom, even somewhat annoying, are now being experienced almost as though I am in slow-motion—really and truly enjoying every moment.

I was talking with a dear friend of mine today when she picked up her daughter from a play date at The Pink House.  She too has experienced a miscarriage—and when I told her how I was so, so, so appreciative and grateful now for my kids, like over-the-top grateful when I even just look at them, in a way that was never even possible before she said “YES!  EXACTLY!  Losing my baby had the same effect on me!”

So…gratitude.  The wake up call.  I get it.  Point taken.

“But was it really necessary?”  I ask myself repeatedly.  “Why couldn’t I have done some more asana and meditation to become even more grateful and present… and had my baby be healthy and happy and strong, like my mantra said?”

I don’t have that answer yet.  But stay tuned because it’s coming.  I can feel it.

My baby’s spirit came in to teach me this lesson, and then went on her/his way back into the light after eight weeks and one day.  I am grateful for my baby’s wisdom and I will carry it with me always.  As I will carry her/him with me in my heart.