Before Barton and I were married, we always dreamed of having children. We saw them, named them, knew that it would be our path together as a couple. So several years later, when we found that we could not have children naturally, it was devastating to both of us. What of these dreams that felt like were smashed against a rock in the ocean?
For years we navigated these waters, maybe we would do surrogacy, maybe we would adopt, or foster a child. But the timing was off, we didn’t have the resources we needed for such avenues, and fear of the unknown held us back.
Even more emotionally devastating was watching our friends tell us we shouldn’t have children, out of concern or that it was God’s will, while they did. Each time a friend would get pregnant, we would feel the devastating blow of grief and heartache. We gave in, believing that we didn’t deserve to be parents, which caused an even greater rift in our marriage.
What purpose was there for us now?
We were blessed in that we did find a way to come back together, to heal. But it took going to the edge, stepping to the breaking point, reconnecting, and finding our way back together.
For me, this final step was when I had a medically necessary hysterectomy.
Scared of medical professionals, medicine (which my mother died from a reaction to a medication), and surgery, I thought I too, would die. I spent a year preparing for this surgery, resources both I and my husband would need, creating a healing cocoon, and moving from the fear that something would go wrong. Ironically, something did. I ended up with a very rare complication to surgery, a path I navigated for a year post-surgery until I was ready to accept it and begin to live these uncharted waters on my terms.
During that time, Barton had embarked on The Coaches Training Institute Leadership Program. During the program, participants co-lead a workshop together. He came home from retreat in Asheville, looked into my eyes and told me that two colleagues were teaching a workshop, “What’s Dying to Be Born.”
“What’s Dying to be Born.”
WOW. Heart in chest beating. Blood pulsing in toes. Eyes piercing with clarity.
I knew immediately.
I didn’t know where it was or when it was or how we would get me there but I new in an instant that I needed to be there. I had to be there.
And then the greater connection came. This workshop would be held in Durango, CO.
Durango. Of all places.
What’s so amazing about Durango, CO? In June of 2003, two years after my mother’s death, I traveled to Durango with her ashes. Everyone thought I was crazy. But her life and her death was unconventional. She always wanted to travel out West. She was an artist and loved the artwork of Georgia O’Keefe. And she was inspired by the Native American arts. My mom wanted to donate her body to science, since she lived with MS, and it was some time before I received a heavy white box with her ashes inside. I admit, I was a bit freaked out to travel with her ashes. But I knew that she yearned to return to what she called homeland.
And in the late afternoon, my mentor and I drove into the mountains, found a circle of evergreens and my mother returned to the sun and returned to the earth. It was one of the most profound ceremonies and experiences of my life.
And I was going back, to Durango.
Here, I let my mother go.
Here, I will heal of not being a mother.
It took everything we had to pull it off, with the support of some great friends and mentors who helped send me off, while Barton stayed with friends. And I was able to go a few days ahead of the workshop to savor in the sacred space that I was returning to.
I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t even know why this was happening now, at this point in time.
The week before was crazy. Barton had returned from co-leading his own workshop in Toronto, Canada, work was busy, there was a million things to take care of.
All I knew was that I had to be there.
Taking the early flight, I arrived to the crisp morning air and snow-tipped mountains.
I took a deep breath.
I had arrived.
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