October 3rd 2008
Had a mini-melt down last night with Ryan while watching "And Then She Found Me"; it's amazing how a simple scene with an ultrasound of a 6 week old fetus made me feel. Holy crap. I never saw mine, I refused to look both times I had ultrasounds done. I didn't want (more) visual evidence of what was growing inside of me, or of what I had chosen to destroy.
Part of the melt-down was brought on by some of the things that have been coming up in my Anish1006 class; we've been talking about the creation story of the Ojibwe and how it mirrors conception, labour and birth. Sometime shortly after conception the fetus is given their spirit name by the Creator. (I wonder if my potential baby had a name already? Supposedly it did...) It's never to late to find your own spirit name and I hope to find my own someday. Apparently my grandfather's grandmother was full blood Ojibwe. We have a picture of her at my mom's and wow.
The more I learn in that class about that culture and belief system the more I want to learn, and the more I find little bits that resonate with me. "Blood memory" is something our professor spoke about a few weeks ago and honestly I didnt' think I had any but now I'm not so sure. I don't think it matters what blood you have, the memory can still be there of things you just know. When I first discovered Paganism it was like being doused in cold water; here was an entire belief system that mirrored what I already felt and believed but had never put into words because I lacked the vocabulary to describe it. There it was at my fingertips over the internet and on the pages of books. Now, again, and I imagine and hope not for the last time, it's happening, that wonderful cold water in the face feeling.
Because of what I'm finding and reading and hearing about I'm coming more and more to believe that I made the wrong choice. Believing what I do about the spiritual process of creating a life, and adding into that now what I've learned and accept and am adopting I think I made the wrong choice. I'll never know for sure. Life is the greatest gift the Creator gives us. Life is meant to be nourished, cherished, enjoyed and honoured. Life is sacred. We, Ryan and I, were given a gift and I destroyed it. It was my choice, my body, my sanity, my life, but was it really? I'm not so sure anymore.
Being one of those people who is always going back and second guessing yourself is terrible but I think this is something that needs more thought. I can't keep avoiding movies with pregnant women (still haven't seen Juno), thinking or talking about pregnancy/labour/childbirth. I cant' undo what's been done and Ryan is ok, finally. He understands, has for a while, and has forgiven me. I needed that so I can begin to forgive myself. Amanda and I are working on a ritual/ceremony pre-Samhain so I can make some more steps forward in getting past this. I have to write a letter still as well, something my counsellor suggested and I think is a damn fine idea. If I can see the page past all the tears I'll be off to a good start.
Had an odd thought the other day; if I can't get into teacher's college maybe I'll become a midwife.
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