no heartbeat

actually...there was one. mine. and that's pretty important.

So it's time to tell you about the miscarriage...
let me read you a letter...and tell you a story...or two.

"Hello parents,
I'm afraid I have some sad news, but I'm determined to turn it into a learning experience. I began having some difficulties with my pregnancy this past week and on Wednesday had to get my first substitute for dance class (thank you Rachelle!) so I could go in for a dr. appoinment. We could not find the heartbeat and a later ultrasound confirmed that I was in the early stages of a miscarriage. Gratefully the miscarriage completed itself yesterday (this past Saturday), although I am tired I would like to continue with our dance classes this week.

I want you to know how I am going to present this news to them. I will talk to them in the middle of class so all the dancers are there and they still have time to dance after the news...I'm hoping they can process it thru movement. I'm not worried about the children under 5yrs, some of the 3 yr olds still tell me they are growing a baby too, and their concept of when a baby comes is very vague.

But the after school classes...although they are resilient, it's going to stick with them a bit. I want to talk to the girls about how our bodies are amazing creations and forming a baby is a miracle...and it is also a miracle that our body knows what to do when things aren't forming right. Tell them how blessed I am that my body recognized right away that something was wrong and stopped it. Tell them how wonderful it is to have each of them with their perfect beautiful bodies that can do so much. Focus on the miracles that they are. I want them to know it is ok to be sad, that it is a sad thing, but it is also a blessing. "Imagine if I told my husband to paint the studio pink and I meant the inside, but he started painting the outside walls and on the windows...we would need to stop him right away. we would say "stop, that's not right" then we would need to clean it up and start over. I am very blessed and lucky that my body said "stop, that's not right."

now here is the story...it happened yesterday...in dance class.

with these 7 girls...plus 5 more [yes, it's a big class.]

Ten little familiar faces line up against the wall, listening to my every word as I tell them what we will be doing at barre today "two demi plies. one grande. releve. balance..."and little Maddie comes in a little late with a bouquet of flowers and a huge bag of cinnamon bears (i love those)...she doesn't say anything. she gives me her sweet smile and takes her place at the barre. I try to go on...and in comes Miranda with a big envelope...handwritten "I am sorry you lost your baby" and she holds on to me tight. I was undone. Every girl left her spot at the barre and surrounded me...almost knocked me over actually.

It's pretty amazing...children know how to wrap you up and make it all better. They don't need to know if it is their job.
They just follow how they feel.
Somewhere along the way, they learn how to be guarded and hold back...
fear I suppose. of rejection perhaps. they reach out at one point and are turned away...so they stop reaching.

I reminded them how amazing and beautiful our bodies are. I reminded them of the light that spreads thru our heart and out our fingers and all the way thru our pointed toes. I told them that it was a miracle to create a body inside of us...it is amazing because we don't tell it what to do. Our body just knows. And our body knows when it's not going right and it stops it. I told them that I was not going to have a baby right now. that it is sad. but it's ok. Miranda raises her hand and I let her tell the kids about her little brother Adam that could not breathe when he was born and died. Suddenly, every hand went up. Everyone had a loss. Alexa actually said it Allie...she raised her hand and said "my grandpa died Miss Amber and I was sad too." She knew she was not alone. We were together. Everyone had been touched with death. I wasn't meaning to go there, but soon everyone was hugging everyone else. no tears. but smiles.

We all needed to be held. just a little bit. and then we danced.

that, my friends, is called...'mourning with those that mourn'

moments like this make my studio sacred. you can feel it.
it is a safe place.

It has never been about the dance steps...It is always about the experience.

When I built this place I said I wanted it to be "a safe place for expression".

A place where these girls would learn about their bodies...

where they would love themselves and learn to love the differences of others.

It would be a place where they would teach each other more than I could teach them.

Where they would learn to deal with every emotion...I didn't realize what I was creating.

But it has happened. It has become bigger than myself...a creation of its own.

It is invisible to the eye...but you can feel it.

There was a point in the miscarriage, at the end, when I finally got to lay down on my bed...and my big sister Brittney came and laid next to me. I saw The Little Prince by my bed and I read to her...about the rose garden. and the fox. and being responsible for what we tame. how it is the time we devote that makes each other so important. I have devoted a lot of time to these girls...almost every week [besides summers] for four years...they have come and danced with me. I have held them when they fall down or just bonk into each other...and also when their parents get divorced and they don't know who is coming to pick them up.

It is the time you devote to taking care of someone...listening to them, yes, even sitting and watching them...just being there...that's what establishes such a strong tie between people. Antoine De Saint-Exupery is right, it takes time...and it is the only way we understand anything at all. We only understand what we have tamed.

And I have spent a great deal of my time taming children...

and being tamed by them.

I know most of you will not go out and read this book...

so I'll do you the favor of posting this part.