Finding out how 9 miscarriages can bite... the hard way

I have a lot I need to say about this past week. Being still in the throes of the most excruciating week (physical pain-wise) of my life, I'm not properly centred yet to go firing off about what's been happening.

Knowing me, as you may do by now, you'll probably have guessed correctly that I am throwing everything (esoteric, alternative, medical and otherwise) at this affliction I find myself in. It's made for some very interesting learning, particularly in the past two days.

An infection has now settled in the base of my face. I have a huge lump the size of an outstretched hand, running the length of my chin and right hand lower jaw. Now that it's manifested physically, I have to let the antibiotics do their thing while the Chinese medicine also boosts me from the inside out. I'm on homoeopathics to take the edge off pain in between times and I am most relieved to say that at least the Panadeine Forte now works when I take it. Not for long, but a half hour without a twinge of pain somewhere in my teeth, gums, jaw, cheek, forehead or temple is sweet, sweet relief and I'll take it.

I want to come back and properly fill in the gaps. This has been important. A huge chunk of learning and realisation that all comes back to the nine babies we lost between 2000 and last year. I have only done one deep meditation on it (this morning) and am still walking through it, cradling myself, if you will. Before I can post about it, I need to responsibly clear and protect my outpourings, in order to effectively protect you, the reader, from such heavy burden and "someone else's stuff", basically. The realisations I've had are profound, more profound than even I, on my journey so far, could have known.

It has taken this pain, this bolt out of the clear blue, to shake me, make me still, realise and release the pain I didn't know I was still carrying. So buried has it been by the loss of Ellanor and then the birth of the LGBB.

I am working through giving myself permission to be so affected by these losses. I am learning to release the guilt of trying again so soon, again and again and yet again, pushing and striving and yearning all those months. It was bound to take its toll. As I kept getting pregnant, I honestly thought it wasn't affecting or effecting me (or the outcome). I felt less and less emotional turmoil about them. I racked them up as one great big collective loss.

But they are not. They are individual. And until I unify all of this, I will not be whole. A birth is complete, and yet a miscarriage... a miscarriage, in some respects, is never-ending.

More later.