Once upon a time, or maybe not that long ago,
a young woman, we’ll call her Leanne, ordered an imagery CD, which we shipped the following day.
She sent us an email a few days later.
“I’m just checking if the CD’s were shipped and when I can expect them.”
We reassured her that the CD’s were indeed shipped on time and they should be arriving the next day. It turned out the CD’s didn’t arrive in the next several days and lovely Sonia from our sales team offered to ship Leanne a new set of CD’s.
“Yes, it’s the correct address,” replied Leanne.
The fate of the second set was the same as the first,
wherever they ended up, it was not in the hands of the addressee.
“Boy,” I said to Sonia when she reported the story, “this beautiful mama really doesn’t want those CD’s.”
I decided to email Leanne myself, apologize for the missing package and offer to call her for a brief chat, perhaps share with her my take on her diagnosis.
“I would like that,” she wrote back.
After our chat she emailed us several times asking questions about the workshop. Here too, Leanne was clearly in deep conflict. She wanted to come and she was also terrified.
The truth does set us free, but for the orphan in us, the truth is terrifying.
During the seven hours of the Meeting Your Child Halfway workshop in the Fertile Heart Studio, I watched Leanne slowly opening to a larger story of her diagnosis and in one of the final exchanges I saw her connect with some of the most painful feelings linked to an interrupted pregnancy.
Since she never received the CD’s in the mail, after the workshop she picked up one of the CD sets on the display table. After arriving home she discovered that the set she picked up from the table was the unsealed display model with a missing disk.
After hearing this,I suggested we send the shipment to her office or a friend’s house. I was not going to risk another lost package.
This was the reply she sent:
“So I went back and looked through the emails, Turns out my house number was one digit off. Sorry for the confusion, totally my fault.”
This lovely mom’s behavior brings into stunning relief the invisible battle in the war zone of every human heart.
When it’s the orphan’s hand reaching for the object of our desire,
we`’ll be sure to pick up from a pile of perfectly sealed brand new CD’s, the empty unsealed one. When it’s the orphan’ eye checking the address for the delivery of our next eagerly expected order, she’ll make sure it’s her reality that gets validated every time.
In Leanne’s case it’s the reality in which the truth that CD might lead to, and perhaps the pregnancy it might help facilitate, is far more dangerous than going through a few more years of failed fertility treatments.
In my ever so hopeful fertile heart I trust that the amazing grace that brought that panicked orphan out of hiding—the grace that made sure that child is seen—will also give Leanne the strength to see how blinding fear can be. Then her more grown up, braver clear eyed self can live the unfolding story of her baby journey and the life she once meant to live.