Nine years ago yesterday we found out that I miscarried our baby. She was our first. She was our hope. She was our only girl.
After the ultrasound, I could barely get dressed. It was like my legs had nothing in them; Noodles one might say. In his own fog, my husband helped me to dress, gather information from the nurse on our next steps, a D & C, and she ushered us out the back door so we wouldn’t have to see all the glowing pregnant women in the waiting room. I remember thinking I was one of those women, pregnant and full of so much joy.
My heart never felt the same. Miscarriage is not just the loss of your little one. It’s the death of a dream; the promise of a baby, the memories that you formed in your head about the family you wanted to create.
For those of you who miscarry at or around the holidays, keep something in mind.
There isn’t a year that passes that I don’t think about my two babies that I miscarried, my girl the day before Thanksgiving in 2003 and my boy on Christmas Day 2007 in the emergency room. Those memories are vivid, like no time has passed. The darkness stayed with me for quite some time…but eventually the light streamed back, promising more happiness, but most of all, more life.
My mother, who passed away in 1998, use to always tell me, “You have to have the dark to appreciate the light.” I use to sing song that saying in a sarcastic way when she would tell me that, as I thought she was crazy for simplifying it that much. Honestly, it is so true.
Take the time to grieve, to sulk, to ache, then slowly crack the door open and let the light warm your heart and soul again…happiness is around the corner…look around you…life is happening.