Asha Frost - Friday, June 22, 2012

For my birthday two of my generous friends gifted me with a massage.  Oh. My. God.  Can I tell you that this is the best gift that you can give a new mom?  Wow.  That rub down was heavenly.  During the massage, I was acutely aware of how much emotion and pain was stored in my body.  As those hands worked through my sore body, I finally was able to take a breath.  To allow whatever needed to rise to the surface to rise.  And rise it did.

As I laid there, there was a remembering.  A remembering of kind eyes and kind hands.  When I was in the hospital after giving birth, I had the most wonderful nurses.  I swear that nurses are re-incarnated angels and I will never, ever forget all that they did for me in my stay after Kai was born.

I remember one night, there was a shift change and I awoke to these kind eyes that had a tear in them.  This nurse looked so deeply into my soul and said "I'm sorry that you have to go through this.  This is a time were you should be enjoying your baby and here you are in so much pain."  At the time I shrugged it off.  While I deeply appreciated her compassion, I realize that I did not fully take it into my heart.  I did the "I'm fine" thing and on we went.

The next day, I had to have an x-ray and moving about was extremely painful.  By the time I got back to my room, I was spent, both physically and emotionally.  I broke down and this nurse came in and took my head into her hands and said to me: "just's okay...just cry, I am here".  Wow.  It was as kind and beautiful as a mother's touch, yet again, I realize that I didn't fully take it into my heart.  I just soldiered on.  I had a new baby to take care of.  My problems were to be put on the back burner.  Or so I thought.

Why was I so resistant to this compassion that these strangers were offering to me?  Every day in my work I offer the same to my patients, truly offering them my heart and love.  Why couldn't I accept this?  It made me sad.

I thought back to a conversation that I had a couple of weeks ago.  I was deeply triggered by this conversation as I felt unsupported, unacknowledged, not heard and not seen for all that I was trying to do.  When this happens, I know that I need to step back and see what needs to be healed in myself. 

What I saw was that I was searching for a compassionate response.  I wanted to hear "Asha, I am so sorry that you have had to go through this and things have not worked out the way your heart so desired."  And then it hit me.  I needed to say this to myself.  I needed to offer myself compassion and I was searching outside of myself for it.  This was amplified even more when I re-injured myself last week and was stuck again, not being able to walk very well.

 How many times do we search outside of ourselves for people to say "the right thing".  How long do we wait for that apology, that acknowledgement, those perfect words so that we can finally just let it go?  For me, I realized that if I offered myself this compassion, then I would not need to hear these words from anyone.  I could offer myself the ultimate self-love, offer myself those gentle hands and those beautiful eyes filled with tears...this is what I needed for me to give - to me.

So today - I offer this to myself:

Dear Asha,

I am sorry that you have had to experience this pain after Kai's birth.  I am sorry that things haven't turned out the way you had envisioned.  Even though I know that you trust that all of this had a healing purpose, it is okay to feel sad about it all.  It is okay to feel angry.  It is okay to cry.

Forgive yourself for not being able to go for the walks that you dreamed of with your son.  Forgive yourself for not being about to fully breastfeed the way you had wanted to.  Forgive yourself for not being able to "do" what you had expected you would be able to do.  Because all that matters is that you love him.  You love him with all of your heart and soul and this is all that matters.  Let it go.  Let it go, dear heart and free yourself from all of the guilt and shame that has burdened you.


And Mother Earth steps in to hold me and my baby son in her gentle arms.  She allows me to rest in her loving supportive care.  I surrender.  I rest.  I let go.  And all of the compassion that I have been wanting, needing, yet not able to accept bursts forward from my heart and spreads out to all my cells like a shower of fire and light.  The message is:  It is okay.  You are safe.  You are loved.  And I am finally able to allow this to flow.  I offer myself compassion for all that I have gone through in this journey.  I forgive myself.  I am free.

A. xo


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