A lot of religions consider blood to be an appropriate sacrifice to God or gods. Kill the fatted lamb, say scriptures in the Hebrew Bible. Lay the ram on the altar – instead of your son, God tells Abraham. Place the blood upon your doorposts, and the angel of death will pass you by. Slit the chicken’s throat for the orisha, say many Yoruba religious traditions.
In most churches of my youth (and too many of my adulthood), the Eucharist is still taken to the words of:
There is power, wonder-working power in the blood of the Lamb
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gUPxqFmhEkA
What can wash away my sins? Nothing but the blood of Jesus
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aWY4UnBepgs
Oh the blood of Jesus can never ever lose its power
Blood is the force of life. Blood is supposed to bring us closer to God. When humanity has erred, God recognizes blood and will forgive. These are the lessons of blood atonement.
As a theologian, I prefer my lessons on fellowship, forgiveness and friendship to come with large loaves of bread – without a side of blood. In Yoruba traditions, I don’t reject the sacrifice of chickens, but this vegan would rather give a bottle of gin.
Can’t I talk to God without the sight of blood?
Miscarriage is bloody. And it’s a sacrifice.
When we first learned of the miscarriage, we could barely speak. Our eyes spoke to each other.
We can do it again. We can do this again.
But when I put my foot in a church, I cried. In the safety of my faith community, in proximity of the wooden altar . . . the moment someone asked how I was doing and seemed to really want to know, I bawled. I fell into a heap on the floor, and I bawled.
The next day, my partner and I went to another church service. We sang, we laughed, we cuddled. They baptized a baby, and I bawled. With snot running down my face, my partner’s arms tightly around me, I cried again.
We whispered to one another, We can do it again. We can do it again.
But I had stopped bleeding. I bled enough to reduce the heartbeat. I bled enough to reduce the size of the little-grain-of-rice baby. But I did not bleed enough to fully miscarry.
At the next ultrasound, the doctor said it almost under his breath: “Two sacs. Twin gestation.”
He made some notes on the paper. We asked him to repeat what he said.
“Twins?” we said aloud. We really wanted twins. Both our mothers are twins. We really really wanted twins.
Can we do that again?
This enough-but-not-enough blood loss was a sacrifice I didn’t want to make.
Our babies were laid on the altars of I-don’t-know-why and sometimes-it-happens and it-doesn’t-matter-why.
It didn’t make me angry with God. But it didn’t draw me any closer either.
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I can remember the last time I saw you in NY. I was with my son and as you cooed we said almost in passing words about your desire for children and reproductive health. As I watched the clear joy of your wedding, those words came back to me and I said a little prayer for you and your partner. That your union would be both happy and fruitful. To be honest, I watched because it was not until I had my son that any of the women I know professionally ever said anything about their reproductive health or desire for motherhood. I wanted and want you to have what you desire, but i had a child at an older reproductive age and i know the literature and statistics. All these things should be part of our conversation like how to choose a dissertation committee and the proper ways of conducting research. I liked you already on that second meeting, but I loved you from that point because of your honesty and clarity about who you were and what you wanted. You did not make a pretty statement to cover the not so pretty parts of the process. You are doing the same thing now. I am sharing this with my facebook community because I am hoping we are part of a generation of black women scholars who will bring more honesty about mothering and motherhood desires and all that comes with it.
Thank you Melynda for your grace and camaraderie. Of course, your little boy is absolutely adorable and could make anyone yearn deeper for motherhood! I am deeply moved by what you say about black women scholars having conversation about motherhood and reproductive health the way we do about dissertation committees etc. I will begin thinking about how to better mentor my doctoral students. Thank you for sharing the post as well!
Monica – I continue to mourn with you for your loss. I have faith that you will be mom of a young child (however the process happens) someday! 🙂
I am humbled by the conversation of blood and loss. Some religions resorted to the need for blood sacrifice to appease the gods. Just returning from Machu Picchu and the amazing culture of engineers, astrologers, and artists, even they believed blood loss would bring sanctity. And yet, their empire was destroyed from without and within. Were they angry with their gods for turning their backs on years of sacrifice? I don’t know.
I understand your loss Monica. I miscarried a daughter at 24 weeks gestation. She lived four days before she died of a cerebral hemorrhage. Three of my friends also had babies born at 24 weeks, but their children survived the 20% chance the doctors gave them. Like you I already suffered from depression since childhood. The doctors told me I could not carry a child full term. That devastating loss was the nail on the coffin of a marriage that was already under terrific strain. For years I cried whenever I saw little girls in their pretty dresses and pigtails. Eight years later I discovered I was pregnant and eight months later I delivered a 7lb 15oz baby girl in 45 minutes from the time my water broke. Ecstasy in delivering that beautiful girl gave way to severe postpartum depression. Thank God for my mother telling me what was wrong. I leaned on my intellect and ignored the crazy feelings and thoughts in my head to behave properly. Thank God for the Holy Spirit that comforted and strengthened me. I never believed the lies the doctors told me about not being able to carry a child full-term. I always believed that God would give me the desire of my heart for a daughter. Hold on Monica. God will not fail you. You and your husband will bounce twins on your laps and your joy will be complete. Much love, peace and prosperity.