I sit here avoiding sleep, avoiding work, and instead writing a blog post that I want so badly to post, but won’t until the 2nd week of May.
I went to the Dr. today and asked for a pregnancy test, just because. I knew the moment he walked in the exam room the test read negative, and it was ok, we haven’t been trying long.
But I was disappointed.
Disappointed because we should have started trying months and months ago, because Lusi needs a friend, because I just know it is right, because as much as I told myself it was unlikely, I really REALLY thought I was.
Get home. Craving chocolate. Rummaging to find some while thinking, “I seriously cannot NOT be expecting. The Dr. is about to call me back to tell me he is wrong.”
“Is this Sharon?” asks an overly excited nurse on the other side of the phone.
“This is Sharon.” already in tears.
“Well Sharon, I just walked by your pregnancy test, and guess what??!?!”
gushing tears. running in to tell Kerry. laughing. jumping up and down.
utter and complete joy.
I bet that phone call made that nurses day.
I know it made mine.
March 28th: hours later
I’m thinking in fragments, I hope writing will make these incomplete thoughts come together.
I am scared.
I want this baby, I want this pregnancy, and I want Lusi to have this sibling.
Maybe it is because life is giong so well right now that it seems too good.
All I know is something tragic feels like it is headed our way. Something that will push us, test us, make us closer, and make me better.
I pray it doesn’t have anything to do with this baby, I pray for strength if it does.
See journal entry from March28th.
I am miscarrying.
I feel the strength I have been praying for and I’m am beyond grateful for intuition, prayer, and life’s trials… as well as comfort.
Intuition is an incredible thing, is it not? I will continue to trust mine, from now to forever.
But still I ache, oh how I ache.
Walking into the grocery store today I ran into the same nurse who gave me the exciting news, which seems like years ago. She noticed it was me and immediately gave me a hug and expressed how she and the other hospital staff had been thinking of me all day. I was and am overwhelmed.
I am completely and utterly surrounded with people who love me. A simple “I am so sorry” means so much. I have had several friends drop everything to spend the day and nights with me while Kerry sleeps or is his grave shift. Both my Moms and Dads take Lusi at a moments notice to give me some space. Kerry is amazing at just letting me feel sorrow, and holding me tightly. And Lusi… oh my Lusi. She must sense my heart, sense my sorrow. She has been nothing but perfect and sweet. Oh how I am loved.
I spent the first few days in grief. No anger, or frustration, or bitterness or anything, just sadness. Miscarriage is a very lonely experience. No matter how many women share their experiences, no matter how tightly Kerry holds me, or how many friends come to see me, I am going through this alone. This is my sorrow, my grief, and my physical and emotional pain. Sometimes in life you just have to go it alone I guess.
But today I feel better, I feel strength, I feel happiness and moments of relief moments from the grief. I know it will get better. I know one day I will have little to say of the experience like other women when they casually say “I had a miscarriage.” Or will I? I truly hope not. I hope these last few weeks will resound with me forever, because like I wrote on way back when, “something that will test us and make me better”, and this really really has.
What is there left to say? I’m still not sure if I will be blogging this or not, I just know that one of the hardest things for me 3 weeks ago was never have heard anyone’s stories about this heartache. Miscarriage is not something most people talk openly about. I didn’t understand why before experiencing it myself but really,
what is there to say?
Miscarriage is heartache. It is loneliness. It is devastation. It is thinking 2 weeks after the fact that I am “fine” and 2 after that opening a file of images, seeing the photo taken to announce the happy news, getting a huge smile, then bursting into tears.
But is can also be beauty, love, peace, comfort, and kindness, which all swept into my life the moment I found out I wouldn’t be having this baby. While I would love to have this pregnancy back, I know that this experience has tested me, pushed me, made us closer as a family and made me better person, and I wouldn’t ever wish that away.
I share this not for pity or sadness, but because this is my life, and for me, a huge part of what I believe life is, is sharing our experiences, whether it’s our joys or our sorrows. Because this IS life. Sometimes life is happiness, sometimes life is sorrow, and I know that we can find beauty and depth and love in it all.
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