Elements of nature can reflect back elements of your inner self, says nature writing expert Mary Reynolds Thompson (http://www.reclaimingthewildsoul.com/) . Using a journaling technique known as “dialoguing,” where you write down a conversation between you and this element, can provide insights from within you reflected in that outward element.

I had this intention in the back of my mind while cleaning out the leaves and brush from my garden recently. In the forsythia bush bordering the garden, I noticed a robin. Then I saw that she was near to a nest. When she flew away, I went over and peeked into the nest and saw a miracle of nature: Three perfect blue eggs, pressed together into a perfect triage. My stomach soared. How exciting this was! I thought about how wonderful it would be that my boys would be able to see the babies born. This was running through my mind as grabbed my journal, perched on a rock, and began to “talk” with this inner part of myself outwardly reflected in “Mama,” as I called her.

Who are you, I asked her. I am Robin, she said, a mother who knows nothing else right now except ensuring that my eggs are safe and that my babies hatch.

Have you been a mother before? I ask. No, these are my first babies. I love them even though I haven't seen them yet. My mate has gone, so now I'm all they have.

Are you scared? I asked. My children are my focus; there is no room for fear.

And we conversed a bit more about her messages for other mothers and for me in particular. It was a wonderful, enriching experience.

I left her sitting peacefully on her eggs.

This morning, I let the dog out and went to check on the nest. I saw that she was gone, so I peeked inside.

Gone. The eggs were gone.

My stomach fell in upon itself. Lost was that potential, that optimism for the future, that hope.

I stumbled back under the weight of that loss, and the related knowledge that Mama, like so many other women, has likely realized the loss of her babies. Yesterday, she had been so optimistic, so myopically focused on one goal: the well-being of her babies. How she must be reeling today, I think, with that primary focus stolen away. Not unlike human mothers who have lost children, that part of their very essence stolen, the absence leaving a life unbalanced and confused about her ongoing purpose.

I wonder if I had something to do with the loss of the eggs. And then I think that this blame, this self-abbegation—is not unlike the self-blame of mothers who have lost children. What if I had been home? asks the mother whose daughter is hit by a car while the mother is at work. What if I had gone to the doctor sooner? asks the mother whose baby is stillborn as the result of a tangled umbilical cord. What if I hadn’t taken that cold medicine? asks the mother who miscarries. What if? What if? What if?

The sad, absolutely unfair truth in this imperfect world is that sometimes bad things happen, with no one to blame. Mama tried her best to pick a safe bush and build a sturdy, protective nest, yet that doesn’t seem to have been enough to protect her babies. But she isn’t to blame. Sometimes the best, most sincere efforts just aren’t enough.

You know how to love without seeing, my Mama Robin said to me. No matter what else you might think, you know how to love your children. And, perhaps, that is all you need to know.

With this message of hope that she gives, her babies are not gone in vain. We, too, know how to love all of our children, even those who have gone away. For the deepest root, the originating source, of the love we give to them is the love that we have for ourselves.

So, during this Mother’s Day month of May, to all mothers who have lost children, give yourself a gift:

Know, deep in the core of your heart, that you’ve done the absolute best for each of your children, living or deceased. And you know that you will continue to do so, as long as you have breath, and even beyond.

Finally, forgive yourself.

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