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Acceptance

Acceptance

Acceptance

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I wrote a post a couple of months ago about how pole heals, and in it I wrote about the first time that pole had healed me. This is about the second time. At the beginning of 2015 I was on top of the world. I had an incredible husband, I was pregnant with twin boys who were already the lights of our lives, and I was as healthy as could be. Then on February 25, over the course of just a few hours, it all went to shit. For no medical reason, I went into early labor and our beautiful boys died on my chest shortly after I delivered them. I felt their tiny hearts beating against my chest. I watched as my husband held our sons, knowing that they would not survive. The horror and grief were almost unbearable. I have nightmares still. Not a single day goes by that I don’t relive those devastating hours. And my husband and I are broken. Irrevocably broken. As the first days passed, reality set in with a vengeance. We would not be bringing our sons home from the hospital like other new parents. No, instead we were waiting for the call that their ashes were ready to be picked up. And getting out of bed on a daily basis was the last thing I wanted to do. Living was the last thing I wanted to do. I hated my body from the inside out. It had betrayed me in one of the most fundamental ways. It didn’t do one of the few jobs that only a woman’s body can do. But… Every single day, when I wanted to go outside and sit in a snowdrift until I froze to death, every single day I got messages from my friends. Many of them are also my students. Over and over they saved my life, they saved my life without even realizing they were doing it. They checked on me. They brought food. They sent me silly videos and pictures. They told me they missed me. They told me their hearts were broken too. And they saved me. Little by little I began to want to be among the living. I went back to the studio, back to teaching. I was a mess. But I managed to keep myself together because people were depending on me to do so. Pole required me to be in the present, and I desperately needed to be in the present. And little by little, I began to accept my body again. To appreciate its strength and capability. I began to feel like a woman again, rather than some creature who is just wrong, unfit, damaged. I am still broken, and I will always be, but the women I have grown to know and love through pole inspire me every day to get up, shower, dress, and live.

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