I had never really wanted children--was actually fearful of raising children, given my family upbringing. I didn't ever want to subject another being to the pain and suffering that would have been inevitable with the thought patterns and perspective I had prior to recovery. Painful co-dependence and dependency issues would have created a continuing cycle of abuse that I didn't want to pass on. (I couldn't articulate it like this then, but my life as it was was all I knew and I knew I didn't want to inflict that on anyone!)
But, I was in my 30's when I found myself pregnant and the maternal clock ticked loudly. The internal struggle, coupled with my then partner's reaction, led to this little soul being released from my womb.
A short time later, this same partner plucked Shyla out of a squirming box of puppies, brought her home without me knowing, and, well, the rest is history--15 years of an incredible journey.
What I haven't mentioned to anyone before now is that when Shyla and I bonded that first night she crawled to me crying, shivering and scared, waking me from a dream about her. Our heartbeats and hearts connected and I knew this was the soul that would have been my baby. Don't ask me how. I knew. The experience was so palpable and transformative, it stands out to this day.
This little soul had to reach me. We had to be together. She arrived in a form that was conducive to my life at the time after trying to reach me through my womb. Our succeeding time together was a testament to an unshakable and unbreakable bond that included each of us seeking out and reconnecting with each over many scenarios. (She once was lost in San Francisco for 72 hours!)
I trust this connection to transcend this lifetime many times over. When she first passed, I kept expecting her to come back to me in some form. I kept waiting for the instant recognition of someone I knew so deeply and intimately. I keep waiting for that reconnection and know that if not in this life, in some other. We have been connected through many lifetimes and will continue to do so eternally.
The pain of not having her by my side now is subsiding as time passes, but only because I feel her on an energetic level and know that we will be reunited in form at some point. I will know her in an instant, just as I'm sure that my friend would know her little boy--it's beyond question and reason.
I can't touch the loss of my friend. I can only hold space with her and her process as she discovers it for herself. I do know, from her revelations, that this little soul that left her and her family has touched them all so enormously and she accepts that he could never have lived outside her womb in his little body.
In all this loss, though, love continues to find a way into our lives and hearts. Just as water continues to find it's way to the ocean, cycling again and again. We just have to pay attention to whatever form it takes and cherish every precious moment, because the particular form's existence, like my friend's baby boy, can sometimes be ever so brief.