At the risk of being lumped in with the faceless masses of clichéd girls in oversized sweaters clutching pumpkin lattes to their chests at this time of year, I must say I do love Autumn. It's my favorite time of year. The leaves are starting to crisp up into oranges and ambers, the air smells delicious, and the skies are still bright blue (thank you for indulging me). The quality of light is shifting and that seems to have a ripple effect through everyone whether we directly notice it or not.
I think what makes me really love this time of year has something to do with its relationship to change. This is the time of year when decay becomes beautiful and even though the end of summer is bittersweet there is an electric energy in the air of things to come. It's a time when Mother Nature holds our hand through an inevitable ending. And if you started reading this blog because you too lost a baby (or know someone who did), then you know that it certainly doesn't always feel like the Universe is holding your hand through an ending. So when this kind of seasonal coddling does occur, it feels noteworthy. All we need to do is look to the trees to be reminded that life is cyclical and that, like it or not, it ceases to cycle for no one.
This time is steeped in nostalgia for me and leaves me feeling particularly reflective (Shocking, I know. I hear you thinking, "Does this girl ever stop with the reflection?" No. Not really. She doesn't). The fact that the Jewish New Year/high holidays fall at this time of year also kicks up this sense of contemplativeness. As I atoned for my undoubtedly multitudinous missed steps over the past year, I also got to thinking about what I want to carry with me forward into a fresh new year and what to leave behind. I've been feeling pretty positive since my surgery (punctuated by the occasional fun little wave of light weeping and panic of the "What am I doing with my life?!" and "Who am I?" variety. You know, just light stuff), so when taking stock of what I would "leave behind" as I step into a new year, it seemed the obvious and obtainable choice to finally drop some of my miscarriage baggage at the door. I don't ruminate about it on a daily basis anymore. I've looked at it from many angles and raked it all over the coals plenty over the last year. You would maybe think that putting it behind me would feel easier at this point. The seasonal endings and beginnings of Autumn remind me, however, that no matter how much I've healed, walking forward baggage-free is never really an option. The leaves that fall decompose under the snow and nourish the buds that will burst forth in Spring. Nothing truly gets "left behind". As much as I like forward moving motion, I am grateful for this. There is actually something sad about the very thought of "leaving it behind" because it implies loosening the connection to a moment in my life that was profound for many reasons.
I think the best we can hope for in this season of change is to be like the trees. We have to find ways to honor the scars that are carved deeply and permanently into our trunks and remember that cicatrices don't stop leaves from bursting into spectacular color, falling, and then starting to grow again. Over and over we cycle like this which means there is always a second chance right around the corner.
I think what makes me really love this time of year has something to do with its relationship to change. This is the time of year when decay becomes beautiful and even though the end of summer is bittersweet there is an electric energy in the air of things to come. It's a time when Mother Nature holds our hand through an inevitable ending. And if you started reading this blog because you too lost a baby (or know someone who did), then you know that it certainly doesn't always feel like the Universe is holding your hand through an ending. So when this kind of seasonal coddling does occur, it feels noteworthy. All we need to do is look to the trees to be reminded that life is cyclical and that, like it or not, it ceases to cycle for no one.
This time is steeped in nostalgia for me and leaves me feeling particularly reflective (Shocking, I know. I hear you thinking, "Does this girl ever stop with the reflection?" No. Not really. She doesn't). The fact that the Jewish New Year/high holidays fall at this time of year also kicks up this sense of contemplativeness. As I atoned for my undoubtedly multitudinous missed steps over the past year, I also got to thinking about what I want to carry with me forward into a fresh new year and what to leave behind. I've been feeling pretty positive since my surgery (punctuated by the occasional fun little wave of light weeping and panic of the "What am I doing with my life?!" and "Who am I?" variety. You know, just light stuff), so when taking stock of what I would "leave behind" as I step into a new year, it seemed the obvious and obtainable choice to finally drop some of my miscarriage baggage at the door. I don't ruminate about it on a daily basis anymore. I've looked at it from many angles and raked it all over the coals plenty over the last year. You would maybe think that putting it behind me would feel easier at this point. The seasonal endings and beginnings of Autumn remind me, however, that no matter how much I've healed, walking forward baggage-free is never really an option. The leaves that fall decompose under the snow and nourish the buds that will burst forth in Spring. Nothing truly gets "left behind". As much as I like forward moving motion, I am grateful for this. There is actually something sad about the very thought of "leaving it behind" because it implies loosening the connection to a moment in my life that was profound for many reasons.
I think the best we can hope for in this season of change is to be like the trees. We have to find ways to honor the scars that are carved deeply and permanently into our trunks and remember that cicatrices don't stop leaves from bursting into spectacular color, falling, and then starting to grow again. Over and over we cycle like this which means there is always a second chance right around the corner.
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