Moving On Always Means Letting Go, Always

UntitledI wish that I could tell you, after the unimaginable loss of our daughter, and earlier any hope of parenting through pregnancy, that moving on, living again, can happen while still holding on, but I can’t; moving on always means letting go, always.

 

These last few days I have learned that lesson tenfold, and in letting go I am living again.

Our daughter’s birth mother desired a relationship with me after the disruption. She and I grew close over all of the ups and downs of six months, and I was not ready to close the door, nor to define what an opening might look like. This week I was.

After lovingly sharing the deep pain the disruption caused, as well as my love and caring for both she and our daughter, I let go of the need to define tomorrow, and any expectation that I would hear from her again.

A few days later, I sat in a doctor’s office, surrounded by pictures of cherub looking babies, waiting for my name to be called. That day I would finally say “I am ready to let go, put me on the pill so I can finally feeling ok again after five years of this struggle.” I was ready to let go.

And today, after my iPhone’s steady demise, I received a new phone, which after activating, and deactivating my old phone, resulted in the disappearance of every stored text message. One of those text messages was a string between myself and our daughter’s birth mother, which spanned all of the way back to the beginning. I couldn’t let it go, and yet when left with no other choice, I did.

Moving on always means letting go, however letting go doesn’t always mean that we lose the love, or the hope, or the cherished memories. Moving on simply means that we release our death grip on what was, and in so doing open our hand to what can now become.

Only minutes after I let go of all expectations with our daughter’s birth mother, the phone rang and I received an offer, which will take me down a new path in my life. And the day before my doctor’s visit, I had a wonderful interview to volunteer at a local children’s hospital holding babies in the neonatal step down unit. During the interview, the director shared with me her 13 year struggle with infertility, and that many nurses and other hospital members had adopted babies through their work in the hospital.

I don’t know what my future will hold, and I don’t know how our second child will find their way into my arms. What I do know however is that I had to make room there in order for them to arrive. I had to let go.

Sometimes we need to ask ourselves what we are holding onto, and what is holding onto us, then we need to find a way to let them go. Only then can we discover the wonderful things just waiting to occupy their vacated spaces.

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7 comments

  1. This post made me cry. Probably because I still feel the sting of loss and hate letting go myself. It is so hard and painful to let go of expectations for those real relationships, so hard to stop living in just wonderful (and even painful) memories, so hard to remove tangible reminders of days gone by. I’ve had to do it, and it is healthy. But some days I wake up to find something triggers those memories and then I have to let go all over again. I wonder how long this stage will last…
    I am super excited for you and all these new opportunities. It sounds wonderful. And while there’s a slight wistfulness to your tone (and perhaps that will always be there, which is perfectly acceptable), there’s a much happier, upbeat vibe ringing through. I’m so glad to hear how you are healing and growing and learning to love life again. Thanks for the wonderful post!

    1. Thank you so very much Instant Mama. I too sometimes wonder how long this stage of yearning will last-knowing that I would have to empty my entire home to remove all of the reminders of Mea. Your story always gives me hope that when the time is right, our forever children find us. And in the meantime, we are blessed with the opportunity to love, just love, with no tomorrow promised.

  2. Sometimes the letting go is kind of forced which kind of makes it worse but you have such a maturity about this whole thing and I have to admire you for that.
    Good luck with these new pathways and I look forward to hearing how they pan out.

    1. Thank you Heather, it’s always nice to have you here with me on the journey, always a supportive voice! 🙂

  3. Evangeline Colbert · · Reply

    Thank you for sharing this. We discussed this very thing at Bible study last night. It’s important to make room to receive what God desires to give you.

    1. Yes, making room for all that wants to come in is perhaps where we find our hope for the promise of tomorrow. Thank you for sharing your thoughts too!

  4. I read this and I know. I can’t believe that there’s another blogger writing about losing their baby just like I did. Until now, InstantMama has been my only companion in this road of losing a daughter. I’m not to the point of being able to move on and let go. It’s been three days since I last held my “baby”, seven months since she last lived with me, a year and a half since the first time they took her from us, and three and a half years since she first became my baby. I realize how lucky I am to still see and hold and have a relationship with my baby (who is now four!!) and yet my heart breaks for what I see by being involved in her messy life with bio parents. I’m going to be thinking of you and hoping that your new endeavor at the hospital is good for your soul. Thank you for sharing.

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