3. Resultados
3.3. Análisis transcripcional de los genes regulados en los microarrays: Validación de la
A
t 3:00 p.m., I ran out of the toilet cubicle, tears rolling down my eyes. Panic overcame me when Randall wasn’t where I had left him waiting. Searching for Randall among the crowd of people in the Borders bookstore, I eventually found him in the CD section. I ran toward him and collapsed into his arms, burying my head in his chest.“What’s the matter?” he asked as he tried to lift up my head to look into my eyes. I couldn’t face him. I kept snuggled in his chest and arms while staring at the ground.
“There’s blood on my underpants!” I sobbed, allowing the tears to flow. “It . . . it . . . it won’t stop!” Randall bundled me up like a celeb-rity trying to escape the paparazzi, and I slowly climbed into the back of our car and laid down, hoping that would help to stop the bleeding.
Randall hurried to the driver’s side, and we took off. We could go only as fast as the snowfall would allow.
“It would be good to get an adjustment, Sare,” he said, trying to find me in his rear vision mirror.
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“Yes,” I agreed. Anything to stop the blood loss, I thought. “Can you take me to Marie and Tammy’s?”
We didn’t speak again until we arrived at our friends’ house.
The only exchange between us was an energy of love. We both knew what was happening. The ride seemed to take forever. The Bella-gio penthouse suite in Las Vegas where we had made love seemed light years away from where I was now. I felt my thoughts focus on the power of what I’d created. I understood now how powerful my thoughts are in creating the scenarios I wish to see. The snow fell, the windshield wipers ticked like metronomes. I shut my eyes and replayed the pregnancy from conception to present. I felt a blood clot leave my body.
I couldn’t help but think about my daily mantra, “It’s okay to die.”
Guilt paralyzed my body as I lay in the back seat of the car, remem-bering the words I had chosen to speak to our baby. I pictured the breakfast table where I sat and spoke while Randall showered. I’d been concerned with the loss parenting would bring — sleep, movies, flying, cultural experiences, five-star restaurants, and freedom. I failed to entertain the possible gain of having children and being a parent.
However, I kept my greatest fear under lock and key.
Why wasn’t the exhaustion, fatigue, and nausea changing? I would ask myself. I am almost three months; people say it changes about now.
Perhaps this blood loss is the physiological dip where the placenta takes over the production of the hormones to give life to the conceptus, and the corpus luteum is no longer required. Yes, that’s what it is. I felt more blood flow from my body. In the back seat of the car, my two greatest fears, birth and trust, confronted me. They were the two reasons why I avoided pregnancy for the twelve years of our relationship. Although at the time I was studying chiropractic and the profession’s remark-able philosophy, I doubted the reality of an innate (inborn, internal) intelligence — that the body that forms, grows, and nurtures the baby also has the intelligence to birth the baby. I understood the philosophy at an intellectual level, but right now, I was being given an opportunity to experience this understanding at a practical level. I curled into a fetal position on the back seat of the car, my hands over my head, and let out a deep primal scream as I realized my fears were fast approaching.
“No . . . !” I yelled. The contraction of my abdomen forced more blood from my body.
As we arrived at our friends’ house, I felt weak and limp. I was stunned. Randall helped me out of the car, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Still no words were spoken, just love. What I wanted all along was now being given to me. Present at our friends’ house was the lecturer who filled in for the pediatrics class at college. She’s a midwife and a chiro-practor, and the synchronicity was astounding. I shared with them the events thus far. They just listened, letting me talk. We weren’t there for long — I felt tired and wanted to be home in our bed. As we left they wished us luck. When I walked down the stairs of their apartment, I felt blood gush from my body.
We arrived home, and I went straight to our bed. I slept for what seemed like an eternity. I awoke in a daze, wondering if I had been dreaming or if in fact this was real. I got up and went to the toilet.
When I urinated, I didn’t feel any blood loss from my vagina. I had a moment of reprieve. It was 8:00 p.m., and I had been bleeding well over five hours. This isn’t spotting, I told myself. This is a miscarriage: birth and death. I curled again on our bed and let out a huge scream. “Why?
Why? Why?” I yelled as a heavier flow of blood left my body. I knew why; I knew what I created. I knew I made this happen.
A couple of hours later, the contractions began. No longer just blood flow; it was now time to focus, to breathe; a time to go further within and trust that my body knew what to do. I had to get out of my own way. The contractions intensified, and I felt the need to go to the toilet — to squat and to push. As I made my way to the bathroom, I felt my sensitivity increase. I didn’t want to be touched. My heart rate quickened, and my skin dripped perspiration; I couldn’t stop the diarrhea. I sat on the toilet and placed my left hand at the level of my uterus, an almost symbolic way of trying to touch our child, to nurture and to help it through its new journey. My right hand gripped on the rim of the bath. As the contractions intensified, I felt I wanted to escape my body. My breathing was fast and high-pitched, not deep like I had experienced with a friend who had recently given birth. What’s wrong?
I asked myself. Why is this so painful — physically, chemically, and emotionally?
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The contractions came closer together, and I reached a crescendo.
I vomited all over the bathroom floor and then felt the urge to push.
After a few pushes I felt a conceptus pass, and then another one — my first indication that I was carrying twins, and finally the placenta. I buried my head in my hands, bowed my head to the floor, and felt so guilty and ashamed at the thought of killing our children. I shook uncontrollably. Randall wiped the vomit from my face, my hair, and my hands, and with loving tears in his eyes, he ever so gently picked me up off the toilet seat, and carried me back to the bedroom. As we came out of our tiny bathroom, I heard the flush of the toilet. “No . . .
!” I yelled as I collapsed on the bed, mortified.
Over the next months, I felt challenged by my hormones. My progesterone had plummeted post-birth, and I was angry, confused, and trapped — feelings I hadn’t experienced at this intensity before.
Randall noticed the difference in me and decided to take me away to a small town called Galena to a beautiful bed & breakfast, where I could escape the phone and the knocks on the door. Much to my surprise, I took with me some beautiful watercolor paints and a deck of self-healing cards. I wanted to draw, paint, and communicate with our children. During our stay, I was reminded of the birth by each blood clot that still passed through my body, although they were much less frequent. I sat at the window looking out over a field. The weather was cold, and Randall lit the fire. I pulled three cards, one for me and one for each of our children. I asked what I needed to know. My card said:
“All is well in my world: everything is working out for my highest good. Out of this situation only good will come. I am safe.”
Then I pulled two cards — ironically one was male and one was female. The male card said:
“Life is simple and easy; all that I need to know at any given moment is revealed to me. I trust myself and I trust in life. All is well.”
The female card read:
“I am beautiful, and everybody loves me. I radiate acceptance, and I am deeply loved by others. Love surrounds me and pro-tects me”.
I looked at these cards with an uncanny feeling. At this point, I understood two pertinent epiphanies. One, that nothing is ever missing in our life. We have everything we need; however, it just might be in a form we have not yet recognized or experienced. Second, the world exists in balance. Here I am holding our two children: one a male and one a female, having just experienced birth and death with them, the perfect balance. Both of them were teaching me to trust, to feel safe.
I went on to sketch the information I received. Upon completion of the drawing and painting, I realized that we indeed hadn’t lost our children. I saw that they were in fact still with us; they had just changed form. They were now a beautiful painting, which would hang brightly in our children’s rooms in the years to come.
The day after I finished painting, and experienced those epiphanies, the blood flow stopped. No longer did I need to experience the loss, it no longer served me. I had our children with us; they were now in a picture form.
Upon our return to Davenport, I felt a little shaky at getting back into the swing of life. My hormones were still up and down, and I was tired. The midwife and college lecturer, the lady at our friends’ house that eventful day, approached me to ask if I would be interested in speaking to the pediatrics class to share my story. I immediately said yes. Despite the ordeal Randall and I had lived through in losing our children, I always felt my life would unfold on the stage, sharing with people the amazing power of the innate intelligence that lives inside us.
And here I was being given an opportunity to start it off, to share this vision.
Over the next eighteen months, I shared the story of my newfound trust in the body with hundreds of students who were eager to hear and learn about the wisdom of the body. In each audience, listeners responded with gratitude because that I gave a voice to the innate understanding of
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the body, which knows what to do every time, all the time. Repeatedly, people would come up to me afterward to share with me the current form of their baby. I lived in awe of the power of the truth I learned to share and felt humbled at the joy people experienced. When the audi-ence realized this universal truth, they experiaudi-enced a huge relief and an understanding that nothing is ever missing; it just changes form. I was privileged to see listeners able to reconnect with their own “little ones,”
and to recognize the gift that had brought them to this point.
A few months into the next college trimester, I realized I was push-ing myself too much, and I said to Randall, “I’m not coppush-ing. I need to get away.” We decided we would go to Mexico. He booked the tickets, and within a week, we were there. We went to Adventura Palace, an adults-only resort, staying there for a week. Here I got space, sleep, cultural experiences, sun, and five-star restaurants — things I thought I’d miss when I became a parent. It was here that I was truly able to distance from the event, and in taking this distance, I was able to gain clarity and see another perspective on what had taken place. I saw the gifts in all that had transpired.
Thank God I had a miscarriage. Both the miscarriage experience and our children increased my trust that the body knows what to do every time in any circumstance. I didn’t go off to the hospital to have a D & C. I didn’t call a doctor to find out if everything had passed and to find out if I was okay. I didn’t want anything external interrupting my flow, the gift our “little ones” had given me — the ultimate gift of trust.
I learned first-hand to get the educated mind out of the way because it only interferes with what the innate already knows. This deep trust and respect for the body’s innate knowing enabled me to go on to have three remarkable home births, by choice, all of them unassisted. Each was a beautiful dance; I didn’t feel the pain that many people report. Each one gave me a gift of looking within myself. Our first son enabled me to look at my chemical reality, our second son my emotional reality, and our most recent addition, a little girl who entered the world via a breech home birth only thirteen months ago, reframed my physical reality.
All of our children awakened channels in me that had been dormant.
After the birth of our second child, I received volumes of information as to how my life was to unfold. I asked the universe when I laid down to
rest one day, “How can I continue to serve and adjust people chiropracti-cally from home?” I awoke with my mind overflowing with instructions!
Within the information, I received my inspiration. This was what I wrote:
“to share vitalistic philosophy with the world and how it relates to health for the purpose of changing the health consciousness of individuals, fami-lies, communities, cities, states, nations, and the world; to inspire a desire in others to do their life differently; to ask different questions.” I then wrote the word BOOK. Write a book.
As a result of my experience with our twins and our subsequent home births, my first book explains the innate intelligence we live with on a daily basis. The book is titled The Vital Truth: Accessing the Possibilities of Unlimited Health. I understand from my miscar-riage experience that I’m here to share the understanding of vitalism and chiropractic, and how they relate to pregnancy, birth, and health.
It’s my inspiration to educate people on vitalism and the chiroprac-tic philosophical understanding of how the body works, in relation to both itself and the universe. I am inspired to further educate people, from a vitalistic and chiropractic perspective, on the physical, chemical, and emotional changes that may occur as we bring forth new life. My vision is to open people’s eyes to the power of innate intelligence. The Vital Truth: Accessing the Possibilities of Unlimited Health is making it possible for individuals to integrate into their life this unique under-standing of health, the human body, and its expression. Lives are being changed. This in turn is changing the health consciousness of the com-munities, cities, states, nations and the world.
The death and birth of our twins enabled me to awaken the trust inside, to be humbled by the sheer genius of the body we live in. Their death and birth enabled me to ask different questions and to be awak-ened to new answers. Their death and birth were pivotal in bringing me to where I am today. I have the beauty now of adjusting people mentally via my book rather than physically. Nothing’s ever missing; it just changes form.
❤ ❤ ❤
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Dr. Sarah Farrant, chiropractor, mother, author, and international speaker, says, “I understand from my miscarriage experience that I am here to share the understanding of vitalism and chiropractic and how they relate to health, pregnancy, birth, and post-birth.” She’s recently established the Global Pregnancy Centre, which will be the largest educational online community where people learn about the power of their body from a vitalistic perspective. Her book, The Vital Truth: Accessing the Possibilities of Unlimited Health, explains in greater detail the nature of our innate (internal, inborn) intelligence as it relates to health. The book is helping individuals integrate this unique understanding of health, the human body, and its expression into their lives. This in turn is having profound effects on communities, cities, states, nations and the world.
You can reach Dr. Farrant at [email protected]. Her websites are www.drsarahfarrant.com and www.globalpregnancycenter.com.
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