North Bay Woman

50 NORTH BAY WOMAN | F A L L 2 0 1 9 so alone in their loss. The gift this experi- ence brought was a feeling of freedom for myself and others from the taboo around miscarriage. Miscarriages are part of life, and living in fear is not healthy for anyone. The first months of pregnancy should be celebrat- ed and support should be available no matter what happens. The grip of the miscarriage taboo has already started to weaken in my community. Since my Facebook post, several women in my circle have announced their pregnancy on social media with pic- tures of their positive tests. What a gift it is to feel free to cele- brate and cry together through the cycles of life." Heather Hanson, a women's empowerment coach, lives in Sebastopol. Editor's note: At the time of publication, it is with great joy that we let you know that Hanson is expecting her rainbow baby, (a baby born after a miscarriage), in April. Lindon and I "I was never satisfied with the ending 'And They Lived Happily Ever After…' Even as a little girl I would pester my par- ents as they closed the book and kissed my forehead good night, 'But then what happened?!?!' I would demand. I knew that was the beginning of the story, not the end. The story that preceded that sentence was full of drama and adventure. Some- times the couple that rode off into the sunset together didn't even meet until the very end. So what happened with them? Was I to think that all the drama was over now that they were together? That is certainly what I believed when I met my husband Lindon. Everything about the way we met, fell in love, and moved across state to be together felt like a fairytale. Even our engagement story involves a witch, a love spell and magic. So when we said, 'I do,' I believed all the pain and suffering in my life was behind me. And it was! The first three years of our marriage were full of love, travel and friendship. Our quiet nights home togeth- er felt like the best sleepover party with my best friend. And then we got pregnant. It was a dream come true for both of us and I had a relatively easy, healthy pregnancy. Until I didn't. On our son's due date his heart stopped beating. No reason. No explana- tion. He left us in the middle of the night with not so much as a kiss goodbye. To say my husband and I were devastat- ed would be the understatement of the century. Heartbreak doesn't cover it. Gut wrenching pain, searing white hot grief and emptiness. Empty arms, empty crib, empty baby shoes. Empty. On the way home from the hospital, af- ter delivering our sweet baby boy, Bodhi, after saying goodbye before we had the chance to say hello, we drove home in the deafening silence of our car. Empty car seat. I cried out loud this guttural primal cry all the way home. So loud I thought the other drivers on the freeway would hear me. Instead of driving home my husband drove us to a lookout point and turned off the car. He turned to me and grabbed my hand and said, 'We can't live like this. We can't go through all these experiences we thought we were going to share with Bodhi without him and only feel his ab- sence. We have to find a way to love him and each other more through this loss. It's the only way we are going to make it.' And I knew he was right. We devised a plan. We set an intention. We agreed to celebrate our son's life every chance we get and if we can't find a way to cele- brate, we would find each other, hold each other, breathe, and think of one thing we can do to move forward in a way that makes us proud. We have done exact- ly that for the last two years. We used our pain to create intimacy in our relationship. We are better spouses, better friends and better people because of it. Since we lost our son, we have had three miscarriages and the hope of having children has faded from my imagination. But not my husband's. He has remained solid in his faith that our love will bring us children. He is not discouraged by my hopelessness; in fact I think it makes him more relentless in his pursuit. He reminds me that we don't know the future. We don't know what is going to happen. We don't know the outcome of this story. All we can do is hold each oth- er, breathe and do one thing that makes us proud of who we are. And now I know what, 'And they lived happily ever after…' looks like. It doesn't mean the drama and the adventure end. It means it is just beginning. Life will serve you situations that will make you grow beyond what you think you are capable of handling. Happily ever after is a promise that instead of handling life's growing pains on our own we are going to weather the storm together. Happily ever after is meeting the challenges of life with someone else who you can trust and rely on. Someone who will remind you to breathe. Someone who will hold your hand when life is falling apart around you. Someone who wants the joys just as much as you do. Happily ever after is the story of all our relationships if we make it so. This is just the beginning of our story." Cassie Crow is from Novato, now living in Dana Point. She is a trainer and course writer for Productive Learning. n Cassie Crow (with husband Lindon) shares her story of anguish … and hope. – Photo courtesy Cassie Crow

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