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Space is not enough.

Space is not always enough.

There is not enough time. Not enough breaths. Not enough heartbeats.

Holding space is something I value above almost anything else.

When I learned what it meant, how to hold space for myself, and how to hold space for others- it changed my entire life.

But sometimes holding space is just not enough. And I wish I could do more.

I want to be infinite. I want to be all knowing. All giving. All holding. I want to be able to take every ounce of grief- and fold it up into a paper heart.

I want to make it smaller. To make it have definite edges. I want to turn it into something that can be held. That takes up a certain amount of space and no more. I want to give grief gravity, and texture. Like a wrinkled up paper.

I want to give it direction. Purpose. A time limit. I want it to be certain. I want it to be limited to a certain time, space, or depth. I want to make it less.

But grief is none of those things.

And I have none of those abilities.

So I hold space.

And I break.

And I grieve.

For my own, for yours. For everyone.

Holding space, is valuable, it’s the very most I can give.

But even now, it’s just not enough.

Two days ago, I got a text. I was waiting for the text. The go time text. Off to a birth! But when I picked up my phone I sank to the bed instead of running for my camera bag.

At 39 weeks. Her baby had passed away in her womb.

The next night she gave birth. Her body gave her a gift she had prayed for- to go into labor without induction.

They placed the baby on her chest and held silence as he was born as she requested.

There is no amount of space holding in the world that could lesson what they have to face, what they have experienced. I know from experience that there is nothing I can do that will take this away for them. But I also know, that when I had my own loss- even though nothing could take it away, every single act of kindness and space holding- it did matter to me deeply. It was not in vain.

Birth work is deep. It takes you to the peaks of life and breathe and joy. But it also takes you to the depths of sorrow, despair, and grief.

It’s all mixed up. There is no separating it. its why this work is so important. It goes together. Sadness and chocolates. Not one second of this pain makes me love it any less.

birth, even birth in loss- is vital work. Beautiful. Immense. There really are not words.

My own grief floods to the surface, threatens to burst out again. I’m reminded by a quiet voice inside that grief is just love expanded- torn open- overflowing. Love with no child to pour it into. So it flows. And it flows. And it will always flow.

So don’t mind the tears. Don’t mind the floods. The grief that comes out however it comes out- it’s just a mothers love.

if you would like to help me hold space and help this family with the financial costs of burying their sweet baby boy, please do. I would love to see this small piece lifted from their shoulders so they can walk forward into this without burden. Money is just energy. I pray it all flows to them right now.

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