A circle of cushions surrounds several candles, some crystals, and a bag of chocolate bark. Jacqui Morton, seated on one of the cushions, stuffs tiny satchels full of fragrant dried lavender. “I’ve met so many people who have had reproductive loss,” she says. “I feel like we’re all connected.”
We are in the Wings room at Roots and Wings Healing Arts, where, every other month, Jacqui creates a healing space and invites any person who has experienced miscarriage, abortion, giving a child up to adoption, stillbirth, infant death, or infertility to grieve and process their experience.
There are no guest speakers or panels of experts. “This is a space where nothing is sold. There’s nothing you need to pay for or follow up on.” Jacqui switches on the electric candles. “I do whatever seems helpful to whoever comes.”
Jacqui and her husband Chris have two young sons. Between the two births, there was another pregnancy. “My husband and I had been told that the fetus I was carrying had Trisomy 18, a chromosomal abnormality. If the pregnancy survived to and through birth, the baby would have likely died within days or months. If she made it beyond a year, she would not have been able to function independently. We made the heartbreaking choice to let the pregnancy go. When I found myself grieving, I was also wishing for more spaces where it felt safe to talk about my loss, and in general feeling so sad that many of us go through such painful experiences on this journey into parenthood. We’re trained to pick up and move on, and to not discuss it. We often feel alone, yet we are not at all alone.”
Varied experiences of reproductive loss are shared by all cultures, religions, and across a wide span of ages. In 2015, when Jacqui received a small grant to create “Holding Our Space,” she began to realize how common these experiences are. “I first created a Tumblar page, which I see as a sort of online altar, and in 2016 we created a space that was open to the public here in Natick, which is when you might say I started holding space for reproductive loss – and the people who experience it.”
The space she holds is quiet except for a rhythmic drumming from upstairs. She offers a misting spray called Hope and Healing, with grapefruit and cedarwood essential oils. A box of tissues is at hand, beside the chocolate bark and a tin of madeleines.
After invoking generations of mothers from all cultures in a non-sectarian prayer, she reads a poem by Mary Oliver. “You don’t have to be good... you just have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”
The first gathering of Holding Our Space was held in the sanctuary at the Common Street Spiritual Center. In preparation for the event, Jacqui invited therapists, doulas, religious leaders, advocates, and people who have experienced reproductive loss to two community meetings, in Boston and Natick. The space was open for three days over a weekend for anyone who wished to come and light a candle, tie a prayer ribbon, make a drawing, write therapeutically, or speak privately and confidentially about their experience.
Now, at Roots and Wings, Jacqui holds space on the first Thursday of every other month (February, April, June) from 7:30-9 pm.
“I know that sharing my own story has helped folks understand the complexity of abortion,” Jacqui said. “I know that people have told me that lighting a candle, or sharing their story with someone else, has been healing. I also have talked to men who have said they never thought they would speak about that abortion their girlfriend had way back then, but that it has affected them. Providing people with places that they can process all of life’s experiences feels necessary.”