Transforming the Sea of Sorrow
October 1963. I gave birth to my first child at St. Anne's Maternity Hospital in Los Angeles
Since finding my son 2 years ago, I have begun to open the door to the tragedy of his relinquishment and have met a sea of sorrow. I have sought to find significance in the tragic events of my live. Sorrow has been an eloquent teacher.
In the course of finding my son, I have found myself. Peace has been elusive in my life. I have lived my entire adult life, with the exception of these past 24 months at the edge of both sanity and living. A birthmother lives in the constancy of a fear state. No moment is truly peaceful.
How, then, has this sorrow, this tragedy, this despairing event become a true gift?
Our sorrow brings us to the gate, the door, the path of forgiveness. All healing is ultimately about forgiveness. As we move to the depth, to the core of our pain, we allow a space to be formed in which new insight, new thinking, new perception can be born. We give rise to a higher thought form. We align with thoughts that bring us closer to peace and wholeness.
Last year, I received an e-mail from someone beginning his healing journey. His words to me, "I am searching for my mother's heartbeat" seared my heart. I understood what I had been resisting for 34 years, what I have been searching and longing for. As this young man shared his heartfelt thoughts, I realized that my own heartbeat has longed, always, for my relinquished child. I felt this, in the dark of the night, in the silence of my solitude, and in every baby's face.
My path, the mother's path has brought me to the depth of despair and sorrow, and to the height of joy. As I moved into the space of my darkness I began to sense the knowing that in my shattering I would emerge and become whole. I didn't know the form my healing would take. I didn't know all this sorrow could be transformed.
Last October, on the night of my son's 35th birthday, I experienced a medical emergency…. in the course of this urgency, in the relinquishment of my uterus, in the medical measures taken to save my life, I purged the core layer of this grief. I was swept into a river of pain and release; I came close to death's door in mind, body and spirit. In symbol and in figure I completely surrendered my memory of this sorrow and this loss. I walked through these shadows and emerged in light and in joy. Each moment became enlivened with gratitude, grace, joy and hope. Each fragment of time became a gift to be cherished and embraced. I felt whole. I felt joy. I felt life. I could sense, for the first time, the ability to feel happiness. I touched, as never before, the depth of a moment. Colors were brighter, sounds were clearer. As each day passed, as each week became a collection of gifts, I felt released from the throes of pain that have stolen my entire adult lifetime.
My son is out of reach, for now and possibly forever. He has chosen to not reunite. My healing has come from knowing he is safe, he is well, he is living the life he has chosen for himself. My healing has come from facing, embracing and celebrating the pain of all my yesterdays.
The western path encourages us to retreat from our pain. I've celebrated the life of my pain. I've moved into the very core of it, met it in a place of surrender. I've melted into its fury, let its sharp edges soften, crumble in the face of determination and devotion to its closure and resolution.
As I ease into the present moment, I welcome both the sorrow and the joy. I understand that the "core of this sorrow will be mine forever." I know that as the waves of grief wash over me I will be guided to peace and to joy. At long last.
- Jane Guttman
© 2000
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