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I first came to the dance as a result of a miscarriage in my 33rd year. At the time I was working as a sexual assault/domestic violence counselor for a private non-profit agency that ran a program at the women’s prison in Massachusetts. Though I loved my job and the women at the institution, working daily in the center of one of society’s most patriarchal institutions was a painful and soul searing experience for me. My pregnancy felt like such a special gift. It seemed an affirmation of the life force that was being eradicating daily by the structure of prison.
My miscarriage came early in my pregnancy. I was just into my 5th week, when I experienced slight bleeding. I was terrified and panicked. I called my Midwife, who was also a dear friend and sister worker at the institution. She came to support and reassures me that bleeding was not an uncommon occurrence and did not necessarily mean that something was amiss with the baby. Yet somehow I knew that I was going to lose the baby. Within a couple of hours, as my bleeding became heavier and heavier, so did my heart. A deep and unfathomable grief opened in me, as the loss of my child became more and more real.
Yet during that day, I also encountered many blessings. My then husband was with me the entire day and I had never felt closer to him. Dear friends came and took turns sitting with me. Others called to wish me their love, prayers and support. And paradoxically, the greatest blessing came at the exact moment that my miscarriage was complete and I’d finally lost the baby. I was sitting with my husband holding his hand and suddenly the room was filled with this extraordinary rose/pink/gold light. I felt filled with love and peace and was intensely aware of just how supported I was by my circle of friends and the Goddess force in the universe.
This feeling of love and light and support held me together for a few days. But gradually the terrible weight of grief took hold and everyday life gradually became painful and intolerable. One of the major complicating factors of my grief reaction was the resurgence of an old chronic pain condition associated with a disorder called interstitial cystitis.
The symptoms of interstitial cystitis can range from a burning, cutting pain in the urethra to a sensation of intense pressure in the lower abdomen. This often is accompanied by an overwhelming urge to urinate constantly, sometimes up to 20 times an hour. The need to go to the bathroom all the time not only disrupts normal activities of daily life, but also completely eliminated the possibility of getting any restful or prolonged sleep. This condition affects thousands of women, but western medical tradition does not have a particularly clear understanding of what causes it or how to treat it.
The sadness I felt at the loss of my child, coupled with the daily chronic pain took its toll on me. I soon had to quit my job at the prison. I tried in some foolish attempt to be stoic (and probably with some measure of denial about my grief) to stay working at the institution. When finally helped me to leave, was when one of the women at the prison, one of my clients came to me and said “We watch you walking around here looking sad and pale and in pain. You look like death warmed over. For the last couple years, Lorraine, you’ve talked to us about developing self-love and self-care. You’ve talked to us about how we need to learn to treat ourselves as though we were the precious children of our higher power. It’s time for you to walk your talk, leave here and take care of yourself. Do it for us, if for no other reason, so that we can keep believing in what you taught us.”
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