the tao of jaklumen

the path of the sage must become the path of the hero

A 10-year Blogging Journey: Death, before Life

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In my LiveJournal blogging, I never mentioned my “Sifu-of-Sorts”, whom I met online through the Camarilla.  I call him “Sifu-of-Sorts” because he balked to be called a sifu or a sensei, but, he was my Meeting of the Mentor (stage four of the Hero’s Journey, per se Vogler) regardless, and that was the name, “Sifu-of-Sorts”, that he reluctantly approved.

Research Association of Laozi Taoist Culture

In the Mage venue, I was playing a member of The Akashic Brotherhood (which refers to the akashic record in Eastern reckoning).  I had some interest in Eastern paths, so my Sifu-of-Sorts recommended that I read the Bhagavad Gita and the Tao Te Ching.

I did not get too deep into the Gita, but I read the Tao Te Ching like a man dying of thirst.

Jan. 7th, 2005 — “Still grieving”:

You know, oddly enough, Julie is dealing with the loss pretty well. I haven’t been handling it so well though.

Many tears were shed; I had really wanted this after all. They say it’s good therapy to try again but a part of me is reluctant. The doctor said after four weeks was okay.

I try to keep remembering that the child will come when the time is right; we do have a feeling this next one is very patient. But I still feel so much.

We knew that we would have another child after our daughter.  Both of them made their presence known a long time before they were born, somehow: there was excitement, anticipation, near impatience with our daughter, and more patience and gentle love with our son.

Perhaps Boy needed that patience, because he didn’t come right away.

We waited a while.  I wasn’t sure we were ready– we were in that crummy fourplex and things were difficult.  I remember my father coming to visit to help Cimmorene break the news to me that she was pregnant.  “She really needs your support,” he said.

But it wasn’t to be, yet.  My memory is hazy, but I remember Cimmy saying something was wrong, that she was bleeding for some reason.  She rushed to the toilet, and miscarried– and I saw the process in all its ugly, gory horror, blood and all.

This was The Ordeal.  I was devastated.

I blamed myself.  I thought that because I wasn’t supportive enough, that I hadn’t wanted the pregnancy at the time, that I was to blame for her miscarrying.  I cut myself, many times, scoring the inside of my forearm with a razor blade.  I wept.  I brooded and stewed as I often do.

I e-mailed my Sifu-of-Sorts about it.  He was so sanguine, as he often is.  He explained that miscarrying was the body’s natural way of dealing with a faulty pregnancy.  I already knew that was true, but I had an emotional dissonance, as I often do.  I may know something logically, but emotionally– it’s often a different story.

But Boy did come, two years and a few months later.  That, of course, is the subject for a future post.

The Hero's Journey: Ordeal, Death, Rebirth

The Hero’s Journey: Ordeal, Death, Rebirth

Next post in the series: A 10-year blogging journey: Woman as Temptress

Author: jaklumen

Wherever you see "jaklumen", that's me. The username is still unique as of 2016, so it's just me, and only me. It's the real me, because I'm bad at faking otherwise.

5 thoughts on “A 10-year Blogging Journey: Death, before Life

  1. I remember this like it happened yesterday. I had just gotten jak to grudgingly accept that I was pregnant, which I had been afraid that, even with his father’s help, he would never do. Shortly thereafter, we had a phone call from my doctor. The test was positive. I was pregnant. They wanted to set up an appointment to see how far along I was and blah blah blah. While jak was on the phone with the doctor I suddenly felt a cramp and a trickle in my underwear. “[jak], something’s wrong,” I said. I ran to the bathroom and sat on the toilet. I wasn’t just spotting, I was drooling blood. I yelled for Jon to come and showed him my bloody underwear as I sobbed to him that I thought we were losing the pregnancy. He told the doctor, who was still on the phone, and the doctor said I should go straight to the emergency room to have it confirmed. I didn’t want to go alone, so jak called his dad to meet me there. At the emergency room, doctors confirmed what I already knew. I was miscarrying. They said it should be over by the end of a week and just to take things easy and wear pads in my underwear until it was over. I was devastated. I thought I must have done something wrong that had caused this pregnancy to abort itself. I didn’t know what else to do so, still in the ER, I asked my father-in-law to give me a priesthood blessing, in which he promised me that I would be given another chance with this child and that the loss wasn’t my fault. By the time I got home from the hospital, I felt better. I had no idea jak was taking things so hard, however. I was shocked when I learned he had cut himself, a thing he’s only done one other time since we were married. He refused to hear me for the longest time while I tried to tell him about his dad’s blessing and the promise it contained, the second chance.
    Now, we have Boy. I’m so glad we waited and planned everything. Still, I’ll never forget these painful steps in our journey together. Looking back, I realize how much stronger we’ve become because of them. However, at the time, it was a lot like trying to breathe through wet cheesecloth.

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  2. I can’t figure out how to comment on your most recent post– perhaps you are afraid of hatred for calling women temptresses?! Just kidding. I remember that story from a comment you left on my blog… so creepy. You are definitely lucky to have a very forgiving and understanding wife!

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    • Bingo, Aussa. You know how it can be with so many people taking words the wrong way.

      I remember making that comment– kudos to you for remembering it! Yep, I’m lucky indeed. If anything, I’m glad she helped me snap out of it and as I said… get even.

      She’s definitely stuck by my side through thick and thin… for some reason, I’m reminded of another story, something we did on a dirty whim that would make a sailor blush with shame. Cimmy’s definitely got my back.

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