“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.” ~Richard Bach
I have always wanted to start my own family.
As a child, my dolls were my best friends and I fell in love with my college boyfriend. Kneeling before me with a ring, he said, “I want you to be the mother of our children.” I swooned as we walked down the aisle at the tender age of twenty-two, convinced I was set for life. I had the husband, and I would have all the children.
I entered into my marriage with the expectation and security that there would be a future. We had made a vow to be together for the rest of our lives, so I believed it was true.
However, I also had another love than my husband.
I fell in love with the act of performing.
After a childhood of classes in the arts, I was accepted into the BFA Musical Theater Program’s inaugural year at Penn State University. I took in every minute of the experience and graduated with summer work booked, and the plans to move to New York City and start my career.
It was possible to wait before starting a family. Broadway was calling.
Except that I hit a ceiling. Broadway was not something I could do despite being a professional. Except for two Broadway shows, which were already closed, I would never have been able to join them.
I was a true triple threat, strong in my singing, dancing, and acting, but I didn’t know how to deal with the loud and critical voice in my head. When I needed to deliver my best at these big moments, the critic would become deafening and my voice would crack or I would spontaneously “forget” which leg to step forward on while I was dancing. It was almost as if my entire training had been lost in those moments.
My confidence was slipping over time. I worked at all levels, except Broadway. I did regional tours, worked on commercials and was able to work off-Broadway. I kept auditioning for my chance at a break.
And then I found myself at the age of thirty-seven staring into my husband’s eyes as he told me, “I don’t think I love you anymore. I don’t think I want to be married anymore. I don’t think I want to have children.”
My twenties were a time of uncertainty and security. I lost my husband and the opportunity to build the family I longed for in the last 15 years.
A great sense of urgency arose in the face my ddivorce. It motivated me to heal from my heartbreak. I worked with love coaches and therapists and joined women’s groups to help me make sense of how to find a life partner.
Four and a quarter years later, I was invited on my first date by a gentle blue-eyed man. He took me to Brooklyn Botanical Gardens and held an umbrella over mine as the rain started to fall. I have never felt this way in all my dates, and I quickly fell for him.
I had never been alone with him before I asked his thoughts on starting a family. I was delighted when he said that it was his greatest desire. A year and half later, we got married and began trying natural ways to have children.
The time was now to create a family. There was no need to wait. I had my husband and security. I felt certainty returning to my life.
After a year of unsuccessful attempts, nothing had been achieved. We entered IVF because I had already frozen my eggs following my divorce. We followed the steps and I was confident that it would work. Due to the number fertilized eggs, I thought we’d have two chances and was open to having twins. On the day of the transfer, one egg was not ready and the three others were unusable.
It was impossible to manage the pressure. I was experiencing migraine headaches from the synthetic hormones and was terrified it wouldn’t work. Which it didn’t.
I promised I would stop using drugs. Our family would be created through natural means or adoption.
One year later, I was staring at the positive pregnancy test.
We were so happy that we could not believe our luck, and we began reading stories to children to help us grow.
The time was now to create a family. There was no waiting.
I stared at the ultrasound for eleven weeks without any heartbeats, and that was just before my eleventh. The white light that had fluttered at seven weeks with such fervor was now a static white dot.
We tried again, but my heart broke. So we decided to go through the adoption process.
We were matched within two months with a birth mom. I was so shocked when we received the call. We had to wait several more months because the birth mother was in her second trimester.
Now, we could prepare! I listened to podcasts, read books, and attended workshops. I learned everything I could about adopting, being trauma-informed, and which products were most in line with our values. We both created a registry and planned to take some time off from work.
Everything was perfect.
It was easy to create our family. There was no waiting.
And then a month before the baby’s due date, the birth mother changed her mind. This is what adoption calls a disruption.
Every pillar of my life was relived by me. Broadway over family. Divorce. The failure of IVF. The miscarriage. The disruption. I wasn’t just mourning the recent loss; I was mourning decades of a desire that had burned in my womb.
It was my belief that it was the end. End of certainty.
I was completely confused. I had made a plan for maternity leave through my business and created an elaborate schedule to launch my next book. A nursery was set up with clothes, a changing table, a stroller and a glider. I thought of everything.
Because I believed it would happen, I planned everything. I wanted to believe that there was no more waiting. I desired to believe in certainty.
Alana Fairchild gave me an Oracle card that I read. “This comes with special guidance for you. You are receiving more love like a great cosmic tsunami. This blessing will cause you to struggle to keep the past alive. So don’t. Let go. You’ll perhaps get some water up your nose, but nothing will come to you that you cannot handle. Instead, you’ll have no idea what is going on. Oh, how the tsunami will deliver you into your divine destiny!”
So I did something else. I surrendered. I gave up all of my plans.
I began coaching clients again. We got back to being involved with the adoption agency. I resumed my book marketing duties.
However, none of these events had a definitive time or date. I accepted the fact that I didn’t know what day or time it would happen after decades of knowing.
I accepted waiting. It seemed like there was no other thing to do.
It was like a part in me was dying. The part that planned my family with such determination and fervor.
In my grief, I turned to the Oracle deck’s guidebook and saw Robert Brach’s quote. After reading it, I started to weep in resonance.
How I had tried to remain a caterpillar.
The caterpillar that guarantees certainty. The caterpillar of timelines. The caterpillar for planning.
But the caterpillar couldn’t transform with these values. To become a sacred butterfly, it needed to be washed up with the love waves and then enter the cocoon.
Robert’s words speak to that profound moment when we recognize that the way we’ve been living our life doesn’t work anymore. We must let go of our clinging and our need to be certain if we are to grow.
Our greatest power is in accepting that we don’t know.
If you “don’t know” then you are actually opening yourself to a limitless life, one that is led by divine timing, instead of what your ego wants to believe is “right.”
It could be that repeating the same thing over and again is actually a blessing in disguise.
What if you feel disoriented and don’t know when your desires will arrive are the softly spun silk surrounding you most vital soul?
The tsunami washed me up with sacred wisdom. It was a relief to stop clinging on to a timeline. It was exhausting and taxing to try to control every aspect of my family’s creation.
I thought I had built a castle of security with bricks and stones. But, it turned out that it was made of sand. When the waves crashed through, it became clear that it wasn’t meant to survive. It was meant to be washed away.
Now I’m opening to something far more powerful than certainty. I’m opening to trust.
I don’t know when my family will come. I don’t know what my dream is. Perhaps my life has actually been working out beautifully, creating a divine path I may not have “planned” but one that has sparked a vital inner transformation.
It has allowed me to see the possibilities of my life changing. That means I no longer have to crawl on the ground like a caterpillar. Now I can open my wings to fly.
Now, I can just receive.
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Nikol Rogers
Nikol Rogers is an author, speaker, and empowerment coach. Her goal is to help people regain confidence, grow their ideal audience, and live out their fearless vision. She has taught her ZenRed Method globally and has helped her clients become a more confident version of themselves and in alignment with their true purpose through her signature course, Powerful Presence. Her work can be found at NikolRogers.com and @Nikol_Rogers.
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Tiny Buddha published the post How Releasing Control opened Me up to a Limitless Lifestyle.
