Lessons from Tahlequah: The Orca Who Mourned Her Dead Calf for Weeks

I read about this mother orca who was documented for grieving her dead baby and write about how this made me feel seen.

In January while casually scrolling my feed I saw this emotional headline by the New York Times "Orca That Carried Dead Calf For Weeks Is Mourning Again."

Relatable, I thought.

I went on to read about how Tahlequah, one of the J-pod Orcas who are monitored by researchers for their declining population in the Pacific Ocean, had lost her second calf.

Two?! Relatable, again.

There I was in my office with a freshly made cup of coffee thinking I'd scroll for a few minutes and get back to work. Discretely, I dried the tears that streamed down my face as I read about this precious, mourning, mother Orca. Instantly, I felt a connection and seen by such a beautiful creature.

"While no significant data are available to suggest why Tahlequah may have lost two calves within her lifetime, orca pregnancies are fraught with challenges" CNN reported.

I also was given no reason for why I lost two pregnancies other than a "these things sadly happen to a lot of women and we don't know why."

As someone who is always searching for the answers to all my why's in life, this has been my biggest hurdle. I have asked to meet God and beg for the return of a life I was promised. I have threatened to fight every high ranking spiritual authority for the return of the souls that left me. I have cried and pleaded with every entity I could think of to rationalize for me why. Yet I still, have no reason, other than "these things just happen."

Today, it doesn't sting as much. I don't feel as angry as I used to. I'd like to say I've made my peace with the hand I was dealt but I'd be lying if I didn't think I could still pull off a flush and win.

For some reason, though, reading about the mama orca mourning her dead calf and reading all the speculations as to "why" stirred up some feelings in me.

"Of course she's sad, why wouldn't she be?" I wanted to yell at my computer. I felt protective and defensive of a beast capable of swallowing me whole. Despite our differences, I felt connected too.

If an Orca, an oceanic beast, a creature of this life, could feel this way about losing her baby, then maybe it wasn't so bad that I mourned as long as I did after losing my two babies?

But now I think of sweet Tahlequah, and her quest to carry her baby as long as she did, and how she captured the world with her brave display of grief. I feel a sense of comfort in this. I know I'm part of this nature pact now. This I-should-have-been-a-mother pact now.

Tahlequah and I, we carried our grief differently. I had no body to bury, no tangible thing to drag across the ocean of my own tears. I often times look for the evidence of the life that was inside me before I realize just how much I changed and how that, in itself, is the evidence. I've been gifted and cursed with an empathy that has me crying over animals who can't save their young.

How empowering is that to think that me and other women like me are as strong and capable and perhaps impactful as this beautiful creature.

When I pray myself to sleep I sometimes think of the mother whale that cries her way around the ocean and ask God to give her just a little peace, please, for me.