To the visionaries, the hopefuls, the longing-to-doers.

I’m not going to tell you about the issues – the many issues – of recreated wheels.

Of doing what someone is already doing and calling it being inspired.

Of the confusion and division this causes.

The distraction from the real work.

The work of bringing love.

Because with all issues considered, we still are all in this together, and truly, having options really is a very good thing.

So while you may be inspired by what one organization is already doing, and you’d like to duplicate it or glean from it – the many issues aside for a moment – there can be good to it.

But I offer you today, a word of encouragement.

If your ideas are not founded – founded – founded – in goodness, but if in the founding, there can be deceitfulness found, ill-intentions, selfishness – it will perpetuate the already very prevalent challenges in the work of bringing love.

The issues derived from a founding of works, items or services without a base of integrity mark an already war torn community of bereaved individuals, festers the already vulnerable wounds of division, of a belief in shame, and it parasitically consumes the energy and the hope that individuals have in themselves and in each other.

We are all touched by this.

If you are considering founding a work, an item or a service with an underlying premise of providing love, you will either be the one tempted to found without integrity, or my thoughtful friend, you will become subject to this issue, cast upon you by others.

You will be targeted.  Bullied.  Harassed.  Lied about.

You, and your works.

And it will have not a thing to do with your works.  Or you.
But, dear friend, if you are feeling a call to create something to bring love, it may be that you have yourself been wounded.

And as you read published works that depict you as every hurtful thing under the sun, words and names that touch you in intimate spaces that the accuser could not possibly know not of,  as if hate has been magnetized to your most vulnerable places, you will crumble.

You will fall.

You will weep.  You will wail.  You will be weak.  You will be broken.

And, in those most vulnerable spaces, you will see all of the things that you are guilty of, the sins that you have committed, the ways that you define yourself as bad, and in your most private space, you will believe that you are weak.  You will believe that you are broken.  You will believe that you are the monster that others have crafted you to be.

How can you possibly bring love to others, when you are even conveyed as so horrendous?  If someone could conjure up such articulately precise details of your ugliness, surely it must be true?  Believable, at least?

Oh, my warrior friend.  Before you enter the space I have been brought to and which I will be brought to again, hear me.

Listen.

Listen.

Listen to the message cast against you.  Listen to the accusation.  Listen to the person.

If you are called to be a love bringer, then you will need to bring love.

It’s that devastatingly impossible, and yet it’s just that simple.

Underneath the accusations, underneath the finely manicured words of hate, underneath the pretenses and the malice, there is a heart, that you have the privilege of speaking love to.  Not because you were inspired, not because enough time has passed from your last pain and so you’ve acquired a certain amount of words or phrases or things to say.  But literally from that broken place, from that crumbling, from that chasm, you have an opportunity that you might not be given at any other time.  The opportunity to hear.

Don’t miss it.  Don’t miss it.  Don’t miss it.

The accusations, the slander, the shaming, the projection of guilt, all of these are distractions.  Distractions from the work of bringing love.

And if in time your organization becomes a popular name in any context, know that the name itself becomes a target.  It becomes a hot button word.

It becomes a coat tail.

And the slander, the gossip, the hate thrust upon my coat tail has eaten into my heart.  Some days, I slip into the chasm because of the weight of what’s on my coat tail and I believe the lies.  I believe I am deserving of shame, of accusations, of falsehoods, of hate.  I believe I am deserving of hate.

And how can I ever be a love bringer, if I am deserving of hate?

You can try to shake it off, friend.

You can try to pick apart, to pull apart, to work with manicured precision to remove each weight of hate.

Or, you can simply stand.  If you don’t know how to walk forward with the weight eating at your heart, simply stand.

You will learn to walk again.

And every time you do, you will teach others that they don’t need to eat at hearts in order to stretch their own legs.

And you will bring love.

My name is Heidi Faith, and I am the founder of stillbirthday.

Many of the visitors, mentors, Love Cupboard coordinators, doulas, and other team members have been with stillbirthday since we began, on August 1, 2011, or shortly after.

But, so many of the incredible, courageous, warrior members of the stillbirthday family and community are new – finding us and meeting us here each and every day.

I want to come alongside you.

If you have a question you’d like to ask me directly, you can email at any time, Heidi.Faith@stillbirthday.info.

As part of community, it can be kind of special to open up our community even further with a kind of “letter to the editor.” There can be some really tough questions in birth and bereavement, and it might feel validating to see if someone has asked a similar question to the one you might have been wondering.

I ask that questions are respectful, that those who ask questions understand that your question may be edited or unpublished if it is disrespectful or unloving, and that time is given to publish (if it’s your first posting) and respond, as I also am an active member of the stillbirthday community both locally and globally.  And in return, I will do my part to answer questions as thoughtfully and as transparently as I find myself able.  And while you’re here, you can leave a little note about yourself – it can be totally random, silly, or brave.  What’s your favorite color?  Favorite movie?  Favorite reason to laugh?

I hope this can be a wonderful time of connecting and growing together!

With love,

Heidi Faith

With Canada to the north and Texas to the south, I cannot help but see the parallels of recent experiences that two families endured.

Two mothers, both pregnant, both alive physically but neither alive medically.

Both hospitals used medical technology to sustain the physical life of the mother in an effort to continue the pregnancy.

To the south, though, the Munoz family did not desire this.

And to the north, the Benson family, did.

The language in the media, though, is very important in both situations.

In the Munoz situation, the baby wasn’t named, at least not publicly.  The stories intended to paint the hospital as a weird science lab spoke of the father’s right to move on.  They never mentioned the older brother and what he might feel like, both now and in the future.  The stories focused on the benefit of the baby physically dying.  Never on the fact that at the time, the baby was in every sense and in every way, very much alive.  Talk of a difficult diagnosis or negative impact of any oxygen deprivation was painted in such a way as to further dehumanize the person of the baby.  Nobody talked about what fears Mr. Munoz may have that his efforts to restore consciousness to his wife may have injured his baby.  Nobody talked about the guilt, dread, or fear Mr. Munoz may have.  The message was clear: this baby is already dead.  Let the situation close.  Let the man move on.  And so, pro-lifers who talked about shaming the dad and pro-choicers who talked about the man moving on all know now that the baby’s days in utero were spent with the world debating over the time of death rather than tangibly validating with word and action that at the time, the baby was in every sense very much alive.  And that this time of hushed whispers of fate ended as the baby suffocated inside his mother.  Because the media addressed the way in which the mother would be in every sense not alive – and didn’t address the way in which this decision would impact the living baby inside.

What about this widow?  To those who thought that he could finally move on now, I strongly tell you that this is not true.  This journey, for him and his surviving son, are only just beginning.

And to the north, the family who faced such a similar situation, and who wanted to sustain the pregnancy and hold a living baby.  What was life like in-utero for baby Benson?  Was it different than life in utero for baby Munoz?  Were either baby sung to?  Did either baby feel the hands of his father atop his mothers growing womb?

While the rest of the world debates over what the right actions are regarding when to end a pregnancy when the mother is not in every way alive, my heart is so full for those moments when the decision hasn’t been made yet.  That is truly my only focus.  I do not at all have a political or even a religious stance regarding the timing of the decision.  In those weeks, days, even fleeting moments when others are arguing over the definition of life, my heart fills to the very brim to honor the life that is there.

If the baby is born alive, or if the baby dies, I yearn earnestly to offer life to the fullest in the moments that are given.   So much is already lost in a situation like this, we don’t have those moments to spare.

• Support for the family is essential.  Support that isn’t outcome influenced.
• Support for the care team is essential.  Support that isn’t outcome influenced.
• Support for the baby is essential.  Support that isn’t outcome influenced.

Honoring each person’s feelings who are involved in the situation.  Capturing moments.  Validating their questions, anxieties, fears.  Listening to their hopes.

Name the baby.   Read to the baby.  Sing to the baby.

Psychobiologists tell us that babies in utero have an amazing sense of smell.  Eat a meal at the bedside of the mother.  Maybe her favorite dish.  Let the aroma travel through the placenta and as the baby receives the smell, speak of the mother’s favorite things.

Grieve for the beloved woman who is not in every way alive.  Touch her.  Rub oils over her belly as a way to grieve her and as a way to connect with the baby, creating a rocking sensation that is otherwise lost to the baby.

Besides the substantially important aspects of the man’s grief, we simply do not know with certainty, this side of media reports, that creating a connection in this way isn’t at all responded to, even by the mother.  Let me say this another way.  Oxytocin is a bonding hormone that travels from the pituitary and serves as a messenger of love directly from the mother to the baby.  It is a hormone released in her bloodstream during pregnancy.  It is released in response to physical as well as emotional and psychospiritual comfort.   And medical research has not disproven the possibility that even in a prolonged coma, a mother may still release oxytocin in her bloodstream.   I’m not involved in the medical research.  I don’t proclaim to know everything about it.  But, here’s what I’m saying.  What if, just, what if, a man stroking his wife’s belly, talking to his baby within, not only creates a communication between father and baby, but what if, even in the middle, the silent mother releases oxytocin, sending her own messages of love to her baby?

We must not get so focused on defining death that we fail to honor all potential for life, however vague, however undefinable, even, however brief.  Because even if the baby dies, we can fill in those fleeting moments with dignity, with honor, with validation, so that the family’s journey afterward is filled with the highest potential for uncomplicated healing.

If nothing else of these thoughts here are considered, in both of these situations and in any others like them, we do such a terribly horrendous disservice to the fathers involved when we focus entirely on how the baby should die or if the baby should die, even when we think we are focused on this to his benefit.  Fathers matter.  Fathers count.  Fathers can bring life.  Fathers need more than the right to define or time death.  They need the right to their fullest dignity, their fullest opportunities, their fullest love, their fullest healing.  No matter what.

What if the silent mother can still send messages of love to her baby?  What if the dad can create a relationship with his baby?  Regardless of time or definition of death, what if we can bring more life?  More love?  More healing?

Ah, the questions.

Even years later, I still get them.

Once,  after supporting families and before returning to care for the needs of my own family, I would stop all of my responsibilities to answer these endless interviews because I felt that if I could borrow the time to offer clarity, I should.  That somehow, it was serving.

The emails, private messages, the public forums where people debate and want to know just exactly where stillbirthday sets camp on any number of issues from elective abortion to home birth to religion have been responded to with thoughtfulness and care (even when the questions were accusations and intentionally void of respect or thoughtfulness) because I believed it was one other way I was serving.

Today, though, the questions are actually a distraction.

So I will compile the questions in one space, and answer them.

The answer is the same for all of the questions, actually.  If you draw a line between pro- and anti- anything, rest assured that stillbirthday as a whole probably does not rest on one ground or the other.  Yes, we have individuals representing stillbirthday who find their home on any side of any issue, indeed.  And that is wonderful.  But no, as a whole we do not plant our loyalties on any one ground.  No, that thin dark line that seems so solid to you on your ground, it actually opens into a chasm of darkness and a pool of loneliness and abandonment, wherever you draw that line, and on whatever subject you might imagine.

And it is in that chasm that I walk.

I serve families literally every single day.  And walking through that darkness with families, only to climb out of that valley to find self-righteous inquiries, petitions waiving in my face asking for my signature to confirm where my loyalties are at, am I pro-life, do I hate homebirth, do I support non-Christians, it’s such an insult to the journey the families endure that I flat don’t have any positive kindness to muster toward any such inquiries anymore.

I don’t want your approval, I don’t need your permission.  I serve families, not politics.

And before you come at me with your tale that the question is founded in your own personal experiences, know that if it truly was, you wouldn’t be asking me such questions.  You’d recognize that all families deserve support through the journey of birth and bereavement.  That my supporting other families does not invalidate you, and I will not allow you to invalidate them by spending any more time indulging in such inquiries.  Whatever your politics are, whatever your morals, background, experiences, feelings are, you have a right to them as a bereaved individual and/or in your role as a professional serving bereaved families.  You can stand your ground without needing me to join it.  And with as much commitment, endurance, transparency and love as I offer to any family on the other side of any line you’ve drawn, I will offer equal portion to you.  Love does not need to retract from one side to give to the other.

There is no conformity here, no legalism here, no brainwashing politicking here.

I walk the thin dark line where birth and bereavement meet.  You will not pull me out of that to serve your side, because regardless of what side of whatever issue you are on, the side is not what needs serving.

So the real issue is not which side I am on, but the real issue is why sides are being served rather than families.

Here’s my public service announcement: I serve families, not politics.  It’s really just that simple.

So if you’ll excuse me, there are families in the chasm who deserve to be loved on, and I must excuse myself from your campaigns that serve sides rather than families.  If you’d care to join me, you are welcome, and we will walk and grow together.  It takes real courage to dare to move closer to that line, dare to reach out to touch it, and see that it opens into a whole world of pain, and it takes even more courage to dare to journey into it.  But if you do, I promise you the rewards are great.  No accolades, no fancy publicity, no spotlight on you.  You will never be the winner here.  In fact as you’ll gather from this message, you’ll find you might be challenged and interrogated and even betrayed and forsaken or scorned at every turn.  For years to come.

There is no fanfare.  There is loneliness.

There is no trophy.  There is selflessness.

There are no riches.  There is sacrifice.

There is no magical eraser of pain.  There is suffering.

But if you dare to go where you’ve never gone before, if you dare to walk with the hurting, you will be the one who is healed.

I have no other way of offering that to you.  It is a gift, a treasure, you will receive only when you give up everything else.

It is no wonder I don’t fit into your side, or even sides I once stood on.  I wouldn’t give up the darkness for the world, for here in the valley is where the cleanest light shines.  It is a light of hope, of transparency, of courage, of love, of healing.

It is everything to me.  Walking the thin, dark line.

That is my campaign, my land, my position.

 {photo source}

Before we begin, may I preface that this is in the category of Heidi’s pieces, a place where I am free to share my personal views because I am a person with views.

We are quickly nearing “Sanctity of Human Life Sunday” – SOHLS day. And because I am Christian, and because I have a special love for president Ronald Reagan, I thought I’d share with you the origin of this day.  It comes from Proclamation 5147, filed with the Office of the Federal Register on January 16, 1984.  It reads:

The values and freedoms we cherish as Americans rest on our fundamental commitment to the sanctity of human life. The first of the “unalienable rights” affirmed by our Declaration of Independence is the right to life itself, a right the Declaration states has been endowed by our Creator on all human beings — whether young or old, weak or strong, healthy or handicapped. Since 1973, however, more than 15 million unborn children have died in legalized abortions — a tragedy of stunning dimensions that stands in sad contrast to our belief that each life is sacred. These children, over tenfold the number of Americans lost in all our Nation’s wars, will never laugh, never sing, never experience the joy of human love; nor will they strive to heal the sick, or feed the poor, or make peace among nations. Abortion has denied them the first and most basic of human rights, and we are infinitely poorer for their loss.

We are poorer not simply for lives not led and for contributions not made, but also for the erosion of our sense of the worth and dignity of every individual. To diminish the value of one category of human life is to diminish us all.

Slavery, which treated Blacks as something less than human, to be bought and sold if convenient, cheapened human life and mocked our dedication to the freedom and equality of all men and women. Can we say that abortion — which treats the unborn as something less than human, to be destroyed if convenient — will be less corrosive to the values we hold dear? We have been given the precious gift of human life, made more precious still by our births in or pilgrimages to a land of freedom. It is fitting, then, on the anniversary of the Supreme Court decision in Roe v. Wade that struck down State anti-abortion laws, that we reflect anew on these blessings, and on our corresponding responsibility to guard with care the lives and freedoms of even the weakest of our fellow human beings.

Now, Therefore, I, Ronald Reagan, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim Sunday, January 22, 1984, as National Sanctity of Human Life Day. I call upon the citizens of this blessed land to gather on that day in homes and places of worship to give thanks for the gift of life, and to reaffirm our commitment to the dignity of every human being and the sanctity of each human life.

In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand this 13th day of January, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and eighty-four, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and eighth.

Ronald Reagan

Today’s SOHLs day is celebrated with non-violent picketing and rallying.  With praying to end elective abortion and for seeking ways to end elective abortion. The tragedy of elective abortion is included in the original cause, but we need to back up a little (or, a lot).

To diminish the value of one category of human life is to diminish us all…

Some things have changed since Reagan’s understanding of elective abortion.  We know now that it’s not something that only happens in back-alley clinics, but happens in state-of-the-art hospitals.  It is called induction in cases where the baby’s diagnosis means slim survival past birth at any gestational age.  It is explained in a way that seems emotionally and financially practical.  It is spoken of as a way to end suffering – of both the mother and baby. And with such a rigid, dogmatic, legalistic view of pro-life as actually nothing more than anti-abortion, mothers who felt alone, now on the bereavement side of elective abortion, are outcasted, abandoned, shamed.  Mothers who say their loss is miscarriage rather than elective abortion so that they can receive the hypocritical and conditional acceptance of their church family or even the rest of the bereaved community.

It is fitting, then, on the anniversary of the Supreme Court decision in Roe v. Wade that struck down State anti-abortion laws, that we reflect anew on these blessings [the precious gift of human life, made more precious still by our births in or pilgrimages to a land of freedom], and on our corresponding responsibility to guard with care the lives and freedoms of even the weakest of our fellow human beings.

The blessing of human life, made more precious by our births in a land of freedom. Elective abortion is birth.  The element that ends life is an element that is added to the birth, but as a baby emerges from the womb of his or her mother, this emerging is birth. Mothers who have endured elective abortion have also given birth.  Might they discover how their own child, even after death, can be a blessing, one that leads them into eternal life?  Or are we really being called by God to exchange the physical life of her baby for the eternal life of the mother?  Can God not have both?  Are we really being called to limit His blessings?  Can we not find a way to stretch beyond anti-elective abortion and into the many previously untouched areas of pain that truly need healing?

I call upon the citizens of this blessed land to gather on that day in homes and places of worship to give thanks for the gift of life, and to reaffirm our commitment to the dignity of every human being and the sanctity of each human life.

While anti-abortion campaigns are rising to picket on SOHLs day, I recognize the reality of condemnation, and the catastrophic impact it has on bereaved mothers who did not give birth via elective abortion for convenience, but who feel strapped in bondage only made worse by reminders that their fellow citizens do not forgive them.

As a bereaved mother myself, and even as a pro-life Christian myself,

I bear witness that these annual protesting events scattered through our calendar often serve as a spiritual Asherman’s Syndrome, ripping the scab of the mothers soul,

causing a barren spirit to struggle with conceiving the Truth of redemption and ability to truly be born again.

I will gather on SOHLs day to give thanks for the gift of life, that every mother has a right to claim her motherhood honestly and unconditionally, and to reaffirm my commitment to the dignity of every human being including all bereaved mothers, including those strapped in the bondage of lying, fear, shame and shunning, and to reaffirm my commitment to the sanctity of each human life, including those babies who have already been born and who died via elective abortion, that their mothers will receive the gift of forgiveness, the gift of mercy, the gift of growth, and to reaffirm my commitment to the sanctity of each human life, including those babies whose mothers will be escorted into corner doctor’s offices, on cold chairs, told the impossible and asked to comply with the impossible, that hope enters the room, sits down next to the mother, whispers courage to seek a second opinion, and that those mothers who leave hospitals, clinics or homes with widowed wombs, that mercy walks with them, that they may courageously choose life for themselves, finding redemption, rather than suffocating from the mask forced upon her by a community of citizens still trapped in the social conform of legalism.

I will give thanks that so many in my Christian pro-life community are graduating from the elementary stay-in-the-lines coloring of anti-abortion and deepening their understanding of what it means to truly let their lights shine in places their own fears darkened their understanding of reaching.  I will praise the increasing numbers of the pro-life community who spread the message of saving lives while doing so with care and love for the mothers who have been torn by elective abortion.

I will remind mothers cut by elective abortion that such demonstrations do not undo your worth, your right to heal and your ability to grow, to love, to live, both here and eternally.

I will honor all mothers, all babies, unconditionally.  By the power of the Holy Spirit it truly is possible.

I invite you, on SOHLs day and every day, to help break the bondage of bereavement, by stretching beyond anti-abortion into pro-healing, which is to say, much more than pro-life, but pro-eternal life.

The release from bondage is bandage.  Might God be calling you to wrap a hurting mother in love?

I’ve seen many variations of the thankful jar: a container that you jot down your joys or blessings, watching it fill, so that at the end of the year, you can unfold the papers and delight in the many simple treasures you’ve received.

The thankful jar is a gorgeous idea, but I don’t really want to store up my treasures that way.  What I want – nay, what I need – to get out, are feelings much more unpleasant.

Sometimes I feel selfish.  Or jealous.  Or angry.  Or really, really alone.

The thing is, I know that these ugly feelings are, at their core, never from the source which I might so easily and mistakenly point them to.

In that whiny little girl voice, I stomp my foot and bellow, “I know it, but it’s just not faaaaaaaair…”

Anybody?

So then I let out a big long sigh, tell myself that I’ll be ok, and I slide barely by another inburst of frustration.  Yes, I said inburst.

Over time, though, something really toxic begins to happen if these feelings are not actually let out.

So, I’m working on a very intentional way of letting these feelings out – while reminding myself, of course, that the source of my sorrow or anger is rarely ever with a person; not down to the real core of the issue, anyway.  It’s with generations, centuries even, of bottling up feelings or dishing them out where they don’t actually belong.

While reading from my favorite book today, I came across something I had glossed over many times before, but this time, something about it really resonated with me.  Here’s how it goes:

A violent man meets a healer.

The first man was possessed with a spirit that caused violence, and this hostile spirit (not the man, mind you, but this foreign spirit within him) spoke to the healer, saying, “What do you want from us… Have you come here to torture us before the appointed time?”

The story continues, that the healer took the spirit from the man and released it into a pig, and that the pig ran directly into the river and died.

I’m not violent – not externally, anyway.  But this issue with bottling up feelings, with shoo-shooing them away until I feel trapped in loneliness?  It’s imploding.  And imploding is just as violent as exploding.

The interesting thing, is that this man and the spirit were not one-and-the-same.  The man, with help, was released from the bondage and was set free.

So, back to me, and my imploding.

Because I am setting a deliberate intention to release my feelings, discontinuing their permission to fester within me, it means I will need to be mindful of how I am releasing them, and where I am placing them.

When I feel someone hurts me, I can remember that my feelings count, that it’s entirely appropriate to get the ugly out, while being mindful of the realization that the person is living in their own place in their own path and that truly the only way any of us, ever, are going to release the feelings that can otherwise fester, and to do so responsibly, wisely, lovingly, without pointing fingers at others is to call upon that one healer who did this for that one man, so many years ago.

What about you?

Can you cast out your anger without hurting anybody?

Can you remember that the person who hurt you is trying to sort out how they too, can unpack their hurts without hurting others?  That hurting them back doesn’t teach them anything?

The lesson to this biblical account is not about hating pigs or cruelty to animals, it’s about releasing something that the person had no business harboring and doing so in a way that protected himself and others around him, so that he could be freed, so that he could heal, so that he – and those around him – could safely grow.  The man’s own weary, worn down intellect was all that stopped him from being the one who dashed to his own death, and this is such a sobering and serious reality.  Our festered discontent can absolutely plummet us down to the depths of drowning.  Our lonely efforts sometimes aren’t enough to keep us from sinking  – we might need a counselor, a healer, a trusted friend.

I know it sounds very silly, but when the healer drew out the negative thing and put it into a pig, that’s such a perfect reminder for me.  So much so that from now on, in the place in my home where I curl up to write my feelings into my journal, when I speak about my frustrations aloud, wherever I am that I need to release the ugly but do so purely in protection of myself and others, to remind myself that this issue with trying to do this well is as old as antiquity, I am going to keep a little pink pig near me as a visual reminder.

My little piggy bank will be my reminder that I can store up treasures in a whole new way – by releasing the ugly to make room for the entirely beautiful.  I’m so excited.  Do you have any kind of visual reminder you use, to reminds you that feelings of shame, guilt, regret, dread, do not define you? To keep things in perspective for you when you feel you might lose your temper, lose control of your feelings, lash out, or implode?

What works for you?

Do you want to try the piggy bank?  You can use an actual piggy bank, or a drawing, painting, bracelet, keychain, doodle or photo of a pig – anything that can be an instant visual reminder that you can get it out so that you can grow.  Share your stories and send in your photos here at stillbirthday!

We are in the month of October.

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance month, as declared by President Ronald Reagan in 1988 – 25 years ago.

And October 15 is a specific day set aside as an international remembrance day for all babies who are not alive.

While there are vigils, balloon releases, lantern lightings and our own hearts release event, some individuals and families just aren’t ready to step out into the public wearing the intentional sleeve of remembrance.

And that’s OK.

I want to share with you, something that I often do as mothers honor me with the news that they are pregnant but not telling anyone else yet, or that they are somewhere in their pregnancy with a live baby and feeling particularly frightful or anxious, or that their labor is drawing near.

I fast.

For life.

Fasting is a spiritual experience of consecrating yourself, of devoting your time  and your attention to leaning in hard to God.

It is a special communion, just between you and God.  You don’t have to go out and proclaim anything, you don’t have to talk about it, you don’t have to tell anybody.  But, you should prepare for it.

If the idea of challenging yourself to grow spiritually and to speak to God about the burdens  of your heart, namely, pregnancy and infant loss, stirs something of intrigue, I hope that this little note can help guide you as you follow that tugging on your heart.

Perhaps it can be your way of honoring October 15 – or, it can be any day, or series of days, you want to set aside to be intentional with your burden for pregnancy and infant loss, and your longing to find healing, to feel life.

There are many ways to fast, many opportunities to fast, and through choosing both the duration of the fast and the items of the fast,  you can find safe ways of incorporating individual health challenges or needs.  The ways two individuals fast may not look exactly the same, although there are some foundational basics that most all fasting include.

There are generally two points involved:

• You are engaging in conversation with God.  This conversation includes your praising Him, authentically.  It includes your asking forgiveness for your own sins.  These two can be especially painful and difficult as you may have some real anger, confusion and distrust of God after loss.  I get it.  I promise, I do.  This is not about being thankful that your baby died.  No, no way, not at all.  It IS about searching for the legacy your baby left behind.  This conversation time also includes presenting your needs before Him.  And it includes listening.
• The second point actually comes first, and it involves clearing a space in your life, in your heart and in your mind, so that you can more clearly engage in conversation with God.  This is where fasting comes in.  Preparing for your time of fasting helps limit your temptation to break it (and you will be tempted).

For those who haven’t really had much exposure to spiritual principles such as fasting, I do want to note that fasting isn’t bribery with a higher being, and it’s not conditional and not exactly outcome oriented.  And while it might seem on the outset that fasting is a kind of “denying”, a taking away in your life, it really isn’t.  Instead it is a “making more room”.  Making room, to be so bold as to praise.  Making room, to find the courage to ask.  Making room, to dare to trust.

Making room, to be filled.

Really, filled.

For my own fast for life, I follow something close to the Daniel Fast.  Here is a helpful website for you to learn more about the menu involved (yes, there is a menu involved).

One more note to those who may not be very familiar with the concept.  If in your bereavement a festering to harm yourself has grown, perhaps food fasting won’t be for you.  There are plenty other things to fast from, and, there are plenty other ways to honor pregnancy and infant loss and the journey toward healing.

And, it’s so very important not just to roll through a series of steps, but to allow yourself to engage in the journey.  I am very intentional about the items I consume during this consecrated time:

Water

John 4:14 – But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.
Ezekiel 36:25 – Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be clean: from all your filthiness, and from all your idols, will I cleanse you.
John 7:38 – He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.
Isaiah 49:10 – They shall not hunger nor thirst; neither shall the heat nor sun smite them: for he that hath mercy on them shall lead them, even by the springs of water shall he guide them.
Revelation 22:1 – And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.
Revelation 22:17 – And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.

 

Born in the caul, also called an Angel Birth.

And as I drink of my clear, clean cleansing water, I dwell on babies living in the waters of their mothers wombs.

Living Food

There is some debate about what foods are living, which the Bible seems to promote and which the Bible seems not to.  If you are considering a fast, again I say, that your journey is as unique as your relationship with God.  You can determine for yourself just what foods – or anything else, in fact! – that you might abstain from as you make room to be filled with more.

Whatever it is you are consuming – through digestion, through your attention, through your finances – whatever it is, the most important thing is the deliberate consuming to be filled.  Really filled.

Nourished by something that sustains you.

Fed by something you can live by.

Fueled with invigoration, health, renewal and life.

As I wait until darkness falls to eat nutritious food to my belly aching’s desire, I meditate on babies eating in the darkness of “the hidden place”, receiving everything they need to sustain them from the messages of love they receive from the one they are within.  Even with a grumbly belly at high noon, I know that I receive messages from the One I am within.  And that no matter what, that message of love will never, ever cease.  No matter what.

Breath

Job 33:4 –  The Spirit of God has made me, and the breath of the Almighty gives me life.

Genesis 2:7 –  Then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature.

I spend a great deal of time slowing my breath, becoming attune to the patterns, the rhythm of rising and falling, ingesting the simple, silent, invisible life juice we all swim in.

And I keep breathing,

hoping,

aching,

daring,

fasting for life.