Wednesday, December 6: Stillbirth, Part Three

But the actual baby, my stillborn brother: who might he have been? What about the two miscarriages before him?

If my mother had lived, what would our relationship be like now?

Why, why, why…

What if, what if, what if…

Quiet now, my yiayia (grandma) would say to me, rubbing Vicks on my chest in the middle of the night when I would cry out after hours of being awake for no reason, my mind racing. Quiet.
In Greek, the word quiet is ee-see-hee-ahhh, and she would say it like a long, drawn out sigh, and I would finally go to sleep.

Don’t be afraid, the angel Gabriel said to the Theotokos (Mother of God). Don’t be afraid.

But how could Mary not have been?

That command, so often given by angels in sacred texts across traditions, is not, it turns out, a command. It is a prophesy.

We look back and think, wow, we were so afraid, but we got here anyway. Those fearful nights of my childhood, all of the “what will I do nows” I have experienced throughout my life, all of the “I wish such-and-such had gone differently” moments…none of those prevented me from being who I am now.

Mary, holding her baby in a stable, certainly thought, “I made it here, to this moment, even though everything that has happened over the last nine months has been so scary.” I hope she lingered on this thought at least for a moment as she looked down at her baby, before she began to worry about how she would wash him, where they would sleep the next night.


Not being afraid is not about false bravado or denial. It is about learning how to quiet the mind enough to stop thinking about what might have been, what could happen. It is about practicing daily the contemplative practices that will allow us to hear the Small Still Voice, God In Us and With Us, speaking now.  And then, it is about listening, and acting based on that listening, even if we are afraid. 

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