Divine Relaxation

A few months ago, my friend Matt made my week by telling me, “It’s a breath of fresh air to read musings from someone spiritual, yet with their feet on the ground.” 

It was such a lovely thing to hear, and it also registered with my “truth bone.” I didn’t feel like Matt was saying something nice just to say something nice. It felt like he meant it. And it’s a compliment that I cherish. I love the idea of being someone spiritual, yet with my feet on the ground.

Today, this compliment is top of mind because of all the writing I’ve been doing about wanting babies. 

The reason I’m able to write so freely about a topic that’s painful for so many – it’s 100% because of my spiritual beliefs.

And, on the off chance that there’s value in sharing them, I want to do that. So here’s how this situation is unfolding for me.

I am someone who is, at her core, agnostic. I don’t know if we’re souls traveling through multiple lifetimes or if this is our one trip to planet Earth. I don’t know if heaven exists, nor do I know if nirvana is real.

But I have one single unshakable belief and that is this: if there is a creator, a higher intelligence, a Source, a god, a goddess, or a whole pantheon of deities, I believe they are benevolent.

I am unwilling to believe in a punishing god. I can’t imagine a happy, healthy, well-adjusted parent punishing their child for mistakenly believing the wrong thing, and I’m pretty certain that, if there is a creator, he, she or it is light years ahead of the most understanding human adult, compassion-wise. I just can’t imagine a higher power that would punish someone for something as small as believing the wrong thing.

Therefore, with that one foundational belief in place, I basically choose from the buffet.

I choose to believe that we’re souls going through multiple lifetimes because that’s the story that feels the most comforting to me.

I choose to believe that there is some kind of source consciousness that we can actively commune with.

I choose to believe that there’s a Universe that conspires on my behalf, a la The Alchemist.

Therefore, when things don’t go to plan, I don’t freak the &%*# out. Instead, I pause and contemplate that maybe there’s a really good reason things aren’t going according to plan.

Perhaps my plan isn’t the best plan. Maybe there’s a better one, but I haven’t been let in on it yet.

So, when I find myself not pregnant month after month, I don’t feel like I’m being punished. I don’t feel like there’s some god out there that owes me a baby because I’ve been a good person and don’t good people deserve babies?

Instead, I contemplate all the very good reasons why it could be taking longer than I want.

Like, for instance, the fact that I asked for a healthy baby. Maybe my body isn’t capable of carrying a healthy baby to term and oh-my-goodness is not getting pregnant a blessing.

Maybe it’s about me. I used to have chronic neck pain and it’s possible that carrying a child would bring that back. Maybe the cost of carrying my own child would be excruciating pain every day for the rest of my life. Maybe that pain would drive me to opiates. Maybe I’d fall back into the hole of chronic addiction.

If that’s the case, not carrying a child is a-okay with me.

Maybe it’s about the actual birth. Maybe something would go wrong and Sam would lose me. I don’t know if you guys know this, but he’s either quite fond of me or a very good liar. If the cost of bringing our child to Earth would be my life, I’m pretty sure Sam would say, “You know, adoption, surrogacy or continuing our charmed life as a childless couple all sound like really good options.”

Me too, by the way. I love this lifetime and I want lots of years of it.

This stuff – it’s hard. I’m not trying to come off as some toxic positivity spouting bimbo. That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. Likewise, I’m not blind to the role of privilege. Thanks to Sam’s career, we’re able to pursue a lot of options. It’s easier to relax when you have options.

But, even with those things acknowledged, the role of my spiritual beliefs is significant.

I believe in a Universe that has my back and that helps me tremendously. There’s a lot of space for “divine relaxation” in my world. I spend most of my time trusting that everything is going to work out. That there are even better outcomes than my little pea brain can think of, and, if I’m willing to be patient, those outcomes can come my way.

And maybe I’ll die and find out I had this all wrong and…yikes.

But probably it’s all going to work out and I’ll be happy that I got to spend my 80 - 120 years on Earth enjoying the experience. I feel comfortable placing that bet.

With love,

Keely

P.S. Credit for thinking that God is perhaps at least as mature as a human adult goes to Glennon Doyle. Screenshots from her book Love Warrior.