Forgiveness Fills an Empty Womb

Raindrops pelted my office windows like pebbles. I stood there watching the tiny mounds of water cling until, unable to hold on any longer, they slid down the dotted windowpane like teardrops. This is the first day of spring? The voice in my head had a tone of disgust. I was grateful to be in the comfort of my office and not out in the rain navigating the streets of my small New England town. March was in reverse. She was roaring out like a lion and not b-a-a-a-ing out like a lamb.

The weather I was witnessing from my office reminded me of November. I imagine November in the New England of today can be just as dismal and dreary as it was in Melville’s New England. Seems that Novemberish weather nudges me to nostalgically recall Ishmael’s words in Melville’s Moby-Dick. Yes, it was a “damp, drizzly November in my soul.” The hope of spring was nowhere to be seen as I opened the door to my waiting room to find Jennifer. From what I knew of Jennifer, I was certain the weather in her soul was that of a drizzly and dismal November day.

Before coming to see me, Jennifer’s abdomen had swelled up over many months as if bearing new life. She had so wanted to get pregnant. She sat before me looking forlorn. Her despair hung as heavy as the thick velvet Victorian draperies framing the windows of my office. For months Jennifer had appeared to be carrying a child. Why was her womb empty? The analytic dictum I had heard in my training echoed in my mind: “Make the unconscious conscious!” What hidden hurt was underlying the conflict between her obvious wish to be pregnant and her inability to get pregnant?

“I want a child so badly!” Jennifer began. “I don’t know what’s wrong! Joe and I have been to specialist after specialist but nothing works.” She was beyond discouraged; she was drenched in despair.

“Sometimes our emotions can affect our body,” I said trying to prepare her to explore the emotions underlying her false pregnancy. This had been our first exchange during our first meeting. We spent the next few sessions discussing her dreams and her feelings.

She had a dream that she associated to her favorite film, Gone With The Wind. Jennifer’s auburn hair was reminiscent of the red earth of Tara. She was a romantic who was as fiery and feisty as Scarlett O’Hara. Jennifer had a Scarlett O’Hara toughness about her that hid a soft heart.

As I looked at Jennifer in our session today, I could see her kneeling in the dirt as Vivian Leigh had in GWTW. I could hear her as Scarlett defiantly shaking her fist to heaven and vowing: “As God is my witness, I won’t starve and I won’t let any of my kin starve . . . I’ll never be hungry again!” Only, her vow was for a baby.

And like Scarlett, Jennifer could easily tell herself, “I won’t think about that now. I’ll think about that tomorrow . . . After all tomorrow is another day!”

Today, in what was our fourth session, I decided to have her use a therapy technique to bring out her emotions more intensely. She was talking about her feelings as if she were talking about someone else. There had been a cool distance that she maintained from her emotional pain.

“Close your eyes,” I began. “Now imagine you could speak to the spirit of the baby that would have been born to you and Joe if you hadn’t had an abortion.” Yes, she had gotten pregnant once. But she was not yet married to Joe when this pregnancy had happened. In fact, it had happened when Joe was not yet divorced from his first wife. He pleaded with Jennifer to get an abortion. Fighting against every fiber of her being, she went and had the abortion.

She hated herself for going along with Joe. She felt God was punishing her. “I don’t want to do this!” she said through clenched teeth. Jennifer opened her eyes. Her eyes full of fire, she stared at me with an unwavering defiance; she was prepared to fight me every step of the way.

I encouraged her to experiment. “I know that doing what I ask makes you very uncomfortable. Just try it out and really express your feelings fully.”

“I don’t want to express my feelings about this!” she yelled. Her eyes were beginning to fill with tears.
“Imagine this baby,” I gently nudged her, “and say what has been hidden in your heart all these years.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t have you. I hate myself for going along with Joe. Please forgive me! Oh my God, please forgive me!” She sobbed uncontrollably as she spoke to the spirit of the baby she aborted.
“Jennifer, it’s not the baby’s or God’s forgiveness that you need. You need your own forgiveness. Now see the younger you and speak to her as you would to one of your nieces. Imagine what you might say to comfort her for going along with Joe. Remember how you loved Joe and how confused you were. It seemed to be the right thing at the time.” I coaxed her to forgive herself. She needed to rip out her guilt by its tight-fisted roots gripping the soil of her soul.

Her heart had opened and released the poison of self-hatred. Within a few weeks, Jennifer was pregnant. Her pregnancy was short-lived and she miscarried in six weeks. This happened again. She became pregnant and miscarried after eight weeks. She became pregnant once again right away. And in a few years, she gave birth to two beautiful children: a boy and a girl. That was her heart’s desire to have one of each. Years later, when I heard from Jennifer again, she told me her children were now grown, had attended college, and were happy and healthy young adults.

• Today, reflect on the power of forgiveness. Consider how Jennifer’s repressed words of guilt and self-hatred had permeated her flesh and prevented pregnancy. Once she released the words of self-hatred and replaced them with words of forgiveness, she was ripe with child. Words of anger at herself became the flesh of an empty womb and words of forgiveness, the flesh of a full womb.