After the stillbirth of my son, finishing chiropractic college, moving, taking national boards, starting a practice, and taking on two bonus daughters, you may think, how could one survive? But I did!
Moving from a barrier island to the Midwest was a culture shock, but it wasn’t my first time adjusting to a new environment. Having lived in New York City and Boston, I thought this move would be a breeze. It mostly was. Within three months, I found myself busy with chiropractic college prerequisites and building social connections. Life in the Midwest felt easier; even the DMV workers were nice!
Sometimes, you get a feeling that a decision will change your life forever. That’s what moving to Iowa felt like for me. I started chiropractic college in March 1991, and it was tough. Tests seemed constant, and we crammed information into our brains daily. My background in massage therapy and my undergraduate degree in Theatre Arts helped, but it was still challenging. I was more experienced than most of my classmates, and as time went on, the intensity only increased.
During my second of ten trimesters of chiropractic college, I met my future husband. It was practically love at first sight. I thought he would ruin all my plans — I had envisioned meeting someone in Spain where I planned to practice chiropractic, and we would live a bilingual life. But there he was, checking all the boxes on my “ideal partner” list within minutes of meeting him. Four months into our relationship, he proposed. I said yes but suggested waiting until after I graduated. He agreed, though reluctantly.
He had two young daughters from a previous marriage, and I quickly fell in love with them, too. Then, in July, we discovered I was pregnant. It was a stressful but joyful time. I was about to finish chiropractic college, and the baby was due just before graduation. Then, everything changed. I was held back from graduating because I failed a toxicology exam by one point. This meant an additional trimester in school and losing my clinic patients. Despite my pleas, the administration wouldn’t budge, and I had to retake the class. Adding insult to injury, I found out that another student in a similar situation was allowed to graduate on time.
I pressed on, determined to finish. But in April, ten days past my due date, my labor stalled, and I knew something was wrong. After three days, we couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat. At the hospital, the ultrasound confirmed our worst fear: our baby had passed away. I was devastated. I looked at my husband and asked, “Are we ok?” His comforting response, “Yes, we are ok,” kept me grounded.
What followed was a blur of hospital procedures. My birth plan — a natural delivery with midwives — fell apart as I was given Pitocin and an epidural. The pain was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, both physically and emotionally. My husband stayed by my side, helping me breathe, while my sister-in-law, a nurse, assisted when it was time to push. Despite the tragedy, I felt a sense of something bigger happening. As I lay there, a thought came to me, “Do I truly believe everything happens for the highest good, or do you just say that?” I couldn’t see the good at that moment, but I knew I had to find it.
In the days that followed, small, mysterious signs appeared. One day, a blue balloon floated by our windows, moving horizontally rather than up like a normal balloon. Our dog, Koko, placed a stuffed lamb in my lap from the baby’s cradle. These gestures and synchronicities brought comfort during a time of overwhelming grief.
Even before the birth, there were strange moments of foreshadowing. On the day of our wedding, we saw a child’s coffin being loaded into a hearse. Our birth instructor had mistakenly mentioned “stillbirths” during one of our classes. These eerie signs were unsettling, but nothing could have prepared us for the actual loss.
Afterward, I had all the “what ifs” running through my mind. What if I lost my husband too? What if I was to blame? What if I never had a child? But I realized that I couldn’t let those thoughts control me. Despite the grief, I had to finish school. So, two weeks after the loss, I returned to class. I addressed the rumors that the midwives had caused the tragedy, explaining that no one was at fault. Death is a natural part of life, even though it feels unbearably sad for those left behind.
My healing journey was difficult, as few people knew how to help. I prayed for guidance, asking to be placed where healing could happen. I had always felt called to be a healer since I was 13. It’s why I pursued massage therapy after earning my degree and later became a chiropractor. Now, I was asking for a deeper understanding of healing, the way Jesus healed people with love, acceptance, and expectancy.
In July 1994, a few months after losing our son, we attended the Mississippi Valley Blues Festival. The Blind Boys of Alabama performed, and as I listened to them, I felt waves of love wash over me. It was a profound moment of realization — love was all around me. When I met my husband afterward, he immediately saw that I had changed. He asked if I was okay, and I could finally say, “I am really okay.”
This experience led me to singing the blues. At first, I couldn’t get through gospel or hymns without crying because the blessings were overwhelming. So, I started singing blues, performing every few weeks with my husband’s band. By age 50, I formed my own band, The Tanya English Band, and even performed at the same festival where I had experienced that life-changing moment with the Blind Boys of Alabama.
I launched Healing with the Blues several years ago, a platform to help people heal their grief. Suffering can last indefinitely, but healing can happen as quickly as we allow it. As the Soul Chiropractor™, I see my role as helping remove the blocks that prevent healing. We are meant to heal, to move through the valley of the shadow of death — not pitch a tent and live there. We are meant to heal with love and support and to experience the immense love waiting for us.
I ask for assistance from Source/God/Universal Energy to put me wherever healing would happen. I keep looking for joy in every interaction and circumstance. My husband is a great help with that. I let music, friends, and family come alongside and support me.
Time does not heal, but actions do. When help is offered, take it. Now, I teach people simple techniques to acknowledge, own, and honor their feelings. Negative feelings are not “bad”. They are just feelings. They are a signal to remind us to pay attention to the positive. Do not bypass or submerge them because that is how disease happens, whether mental, emotional, physical, or spiritual. Release, let go, and allow.
The Tanya English Band
Are you ready to share your story of RESILIENCE? You can do that HERE.