The Daring Way ™

I can remember the moment, fundamentally, my perspective changed.

Years, ago, I began dancing with a limp…I birthed the most beautiful, perfect little boys you could imagine…they were born silently.  No screaming or crying.  Ever.

I was heartbroken.  Heck, I was just plain broken. Period.

My dream of having children, a life long passionate dream, was crushed that day…and I didn’t know at that time if there would be children.  Ever. Even while I was mourning the little ones gone from this world, but so not gone from my heart, I wondered. I wouldn’t be able to spend a lifetime of mothering them…would I be able to mother anyone?

And then it happened.  I was expecting new life again.

Now, I was terrified. I was so fearful of having myself be crushed and shattered again, I didn’t know if I could stand it.  I wanted to protect myself from the pain of another loss…while I knew I couldn’t protect myself against another loss, I thought I would protect myself from the pain of the loss. Coming apart at the seams, feeling like I’m going crazy,not able to function kind of pain is not something I was prepared to experience again.

Conventional wisdom of many says to wait until after the first trimester is over before you tell people–in recognition of the illusion that says the first three months are the riskiest and if something goes wrong and people don’t know, then it won’t hurt as much. That you will save pain by losing the child privately. (Yeah, it looks ridiculous as I type this, I know…but tell me you haven’t heard this or lived by it, right?)

However, my sons were still born far along into the second trimester…so when I knew of this new life inside, I told myself that I would hold off on celebration until third trimester…when my child would be viable even if born early.

I would wait, I told myself, to relax into the joy until I was safe from possible disappointment. I would wait until the babe could be worn alive, even if born early.

But…I told myself…that won’t work…remember your sons were alive one night and no heartbeats the next morning…that could happen at any point before birth.

So…slight modification…I would hold off on celebration and relax once I heard the bawling of a newborn. Protect myself against full-on-love until s/he would be alive in my arms–in other words, protect myself from full on disappointment.

But…I told myself…that won’t work…remember so-and-so…and their child died of SIDS as an infant.  Those new little babies, breathing hasn’t even had a chance to become an ingrained habit…

So…slight modification,…I would hold of on chillaxin’ until the risk of infant death was gone…then I would open my heart completely to this little being.

But…I told myself…that won’t work…cuz I know that by the time SIDS wasn’t a risk, there would be all the risks inherent in being a toddler…children crashing into furniture, and having more mobility than brains so the risk of accident would be high until the child was old enough not to fear tragedy every time we negotiated our way through the parking lot from the store to the car.

So…slight modification…I’d be able to let go of fear and nestle into full on heart opening love after that.

But…I told myself…that won’t work…cuz when the child is old enough not to run into traffic, the child will be old enough to ride a bike…and what happens with a bad car accident, or falling off the play structure.  And then there would be teenage years with peer pressure to do dangerous dares, and then learning to drive…and how can I possibly trust a child to drive a vehicle safely? And then my child might want to travel to foreign country where they don’t understand the culture and they could get robbed…and so I kept having to modify when I could just relax and enjoy the love I would have for a child.

I distinctly remembering having this conversation in my head where I was trying to figure out when I could stop being scared and start enjoying the connection with this little one.  When I wouldn’t have to fear it all come crashing down because of a sudden end and it would be safe to love.

This conversation in my head happened in slow motion and in an instant, all at the same time…

This conversation kept going, until I realized that I would not be able to chillax while being a parent until I was dead. I realized that Love is a Life Sentence. The love is incredible and real…and the possible devastation of losing that love was gonna be just as real.

To have a little one is to be in love, and to be in love is to be vulnerable.

And if I waited to love until the fear of losing was gone…I was never gonna love.  If I waited, I was never going to relax into the joy of being a mama. Being a mama is a life sentence of vulnerability.

And rather than it devastating me, it just had me soften.

I remembered back to the three weeks in the hospital, as we hoped against hope that a miracle would happen and they would live…I had three weeks to prepare, three weeks to steel myself against the heartache of their likely death, three weeks to anticipate the loss and cushion myself against it.

And it was spectacularly unsuccessful in making their deaths easier.

‘Cuz when you have kids you love them, and when they die, you get crushed.  There’s no getting ready, or holding yourself back…you might try, but it won’t work.

A person can’t make losses easier, and losses happen. They just do. And protecting ourselves from the losses just means we miss out on the joy of the moment.

And at that moment, at the end of this oddly profound, very quick yet very detailed conversation in my head, I became determined not to squander joy.

I decided to enjoy every ultrasound, every chance to hear the heartbeat, every kick even though it might be the last. I realized that if this new little life inside of me died, I was just gonna be flat out crushed anyway.  So, I decided to be all in from the get-go cuz if the pregnancy ended with the baby’s death, I was gonna be a puddle on the floor, no matter what…so why not enjoy whatever joy I might be able to have while I could?

It’s become a bit of a mantra for me really.  Living life vulnerably–letting myself soften into to joy, even when there is risk of hurt–cuz there’s this awareness that we are all living life vulnerably all the time anyway.

Then, about three years ago, I stumbled across Brené Brown’s blog.  She languaged ideas that my clients had taught me, and I found to be true in my own life.  She brought those ideas into a dialogue between people, describing them with stories that people could grab a hold of. She articulated deep down ideas that had me cheering, “YES!!” and having me understand my long ago conversation with myself with a clarity I hadn’t had before.

Brené Brown was in Winnipeg this last week.  I went to hear her on Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. Wednesday she rolled out the new workbooks of The Daring Way ™  a new curriculum she and her colleagues have developed. It opens doors for folks to have conversations about shame, courage, vulnerability, joy, connection, compassion and empathy. It’s content beats in rhythm to something deep in me that I’ve seen as life-giving with my clients, and calls deeply to something profound within myself. I’ve been talking about these things for years to various groups that ask me to talk to them…and it is time for me to take it to the next level.

Two weeks ago, I registered for the training to become a certified facilitator of The Daring Way ™ . I’m going to San Antonio next month for a week to learn more about it. It’s daring for me to go to Texas–never been–to a course where there will be smart people there also learning it. 🙂  Am I intimidated? Heck yes!  But daring bravely means feeling the fear inside, being compassionate towards it, and knowing that it’s worth doing anyway.

It goes back to what those two little boys who died too young taught me…embracing life is risky and incredible. Love is vulnerable…and living fully is always worth it.