The Wake Up Call
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.








May 26th, 2009 at 8:52 pm
Wake up calls come in different forms. Yours was a miscarriage, mine was needing a biopsy on a lump in my breast. Neither were necessary, they just were. The point is, you were present enough to recognize the wake-up call, and that my dear friend, is enough. Sending you love and light, and especially to those who haven’t recognized their own wake-up call.
Tori-
Founder, Zoe Foods
http://www.zoefoods.com
Mompreneur Musings: The Quest For Balance (http://www.zoefoods.com/blog)
May 28th, 2009 at 8:21 am
Dear Taylor: “The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order,” writes Eudora Welty. With patience and quiet observation, these events will provide the seeker in you with a “continuous thread of revelation.”
These words ring so true when we go through events that in their moment seem to have no clarity to them. No reason. And as Tori says, “to recognize the wake-up call is enough.” So let it be enough at this moment and know that the revelations often come in the ordinary moments of our lives. Much love to you Taylor.
XO, DJ
May 28th, 2009 at 1:55 pm
Hello Taylor-
Might I venture to say that sometimes there is no particular lesson to be had in a time of crisis and tragedy? It’s interesting that you chose to quote Rabbi Harold Kushner today, in that I kept recalling his words from ‘When Bad Things Happen…’ as I first read your post. In particular, yours words surrounding your spirit drawing this painful experience into your aura struck me. While I do not know you personally, I can surmise from your words, actions and the posts from your community, that you live your life in a deeply committed, present, loving and mindful manner. While stress and habitual unhealthy living and eating patterns (i.e. smoking and fast food consumption) can definitely bring illness upon us, I feel strongly when I say that there are some circumstances that are not of our making, and occur randomly however agonizing and painful they may be. While there are certainly always lessons to be learned from any given situation, I know intuitively, that there was no way in in which you called this loss in, unintentionally or ortherwise.
I am confronting this myself recently as I watch a very dear friend live with, and soon die from (if his most recent prognosis is any indication), ALS. The pain that both he and his family are enduring is just about unfathomable, as is watching someone I dearly love go from a walking, speaking, eating person to one who is paralyzed from the waist down, taking in nourishment from a tube, and unable to communicate in the space of 5 months. There are few brighter lights than this marvelous, evolved, deeply spiritual man. While there is so much to be learned about the strength of one’s spirit and the bonds of a loving friendship that takes you from from life through death with compassion, there is no way that I will accept that he drew this horrific experience in. Sometimes there is no reason, and we need to let go of the struggle of why, and accept that randomness, however excruciating, is part of the the ebb and flow of life. I am working hard to do just that with my beautiful friend, and love him deeply and powerfully in the time that he has left here physically. May your family and community continue to be your foundation and wind at your back. Sending you strength and healing sister.
May 28th, 2009 at 4:33 pm
Dearest Taylor,
Echoing the above statement, sometimes there is no lesson, there is just the spectrum of life, full of joys and sorrows, receiving and losing. My heart goes out to you as you sit with this loss, as I saw your joy weeks ago when you told the Sunday morning class that you were pregnant. Your students, friends, family, and community send you light and love during this dark time…
Susan
May 28th, 2009 at 7:50 pm
I am so sorry and stand in awe of your faith in and pursuit of, meaning.
June 5th, 2009 at 2:51 pm
Much gratitude Tori, DJ, Debra, Susan, and Amanda,
I am WELL and living the lessons that my baby taught me, every moment.
With love, joy, and gratitude.
I still have my moments, like today while at lunch with my in-laws–describing what happened to them.
Grief is unpredictable and uncontrollable.
“It’s like a sneeze,” I tell my kids. “You can’t control it, so don’t even try. Just let it come, and go, and be gentle with yourself.”
Namaste,
Taylor