MISCARRIAGE RECOVERY CONTINUED

It occurred to me, as I was combing through my Google Drive, that every single thing I will ever write henceforth will be part of my miscarriage recovery story. That even now, this horribly painful and unexpected transition is itself another element to the tale. And wherever I go from here will also be part of the tale. And wherever I go after that.

There are no more sequential posts for me to share, everything I’d written in the immediate wake has been published here. There are a few outlying entries from last Fall which will find their way over to this space, and I’ll create some sort of tag or button so all of them can be easily searched for, but for now, I’m giving myself a little distance from those archives, in order to focus on what’s immediately in front of me: moving on.

THE UNIMAGINABLE

When Roux was born, so violently and surrounded with chaos, I had never previously experienced such pain or trauma. The weeks after his delivery were some of the darkest, most agonizing, intensely challenging. It took me close to two years to begin to regain a solid footing, just in time to find myself pregnant again.

Learning that I was expecting a fourth baby brought to the surface a lot of dormant fear and anxiety I had suppressed in the wake of the beginning of Roux’s life. I wasn’t focused on healing, I was focused on surviving, so I never directly addressed much of what I had encountered. But with another pregnancy rapidly progressing, I knew I needed help, to process the underlying and residual PTSD so that I could be prepared to welcome a new member into our family.

Losing that baby was so hard. It is still so hard. The agony of those days, and the weeks thereafter, was all consuming. Never had I been so devastated, hollowed, broken.

Which makes my current situation all the more hurtful. Because this is, by far, the worst.

It just doesn’t seem possible. And yet, here we are.

PS: I posted the twentysixth piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

THERE’S BEAUTY IN THE BREAKDOWN

So let go
And jump in
Oh well, watcha waiting for?
It’s alright,
‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown.

Frou Frou

Gutted is about the only way I can describe my current state of being. Or humiliated. Or maybe it’s just vulnerable.

And sorry. So very, very sorry.

I can’t help but feel responsible, that’s the narcissist in me. It’s always my fault. I’ve created this chaos, this unsettling, this trauma. This is happening because of me.

Of course, the part of me that is eternal, and wizened beyond common rationality, is aware of what has happened, is happening, has yet to happen. And there is no blame, there is only now.

What I know for certain is that I’ll be alright, I’ll pull through this, I’ll reconcile this loss somehow.

PS: I posted the twentyfifth piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

HEART DON’T FAIL ME NOW, COURAGE DON’T DESERT ME

I will get through this, moment by moment is the only way I will survive.

Love is the answer. It is, always, the only answer. To almost any question!

This process isn’t easy for any of us, I don’t think there is a single member of this family feeling particularly well at the moment. I know I’m not.

The faith I have in myself, my husband, our family. This is the kind of faith out of which wonders of the world were born.

I’m putting up one hell of a fight.

A KINGDOM UNDER SIEGE

The happiest chapter of my life is suddenly, rapidly coming to a close.

At the end of February, we will move out of the home we have shared as a family for the last three and a half years. The home in which I became a mother of three, the only place my youngest child has ever lived, rooms filled to the brim with memories of some of the very best moments of my life. I have loved living here, with my precious family, in this peculiar and unreliable old house, in this cozy neighborhood, in this vibrant city.

I’ve started to pack, which has never been something at which I’ve excelled. As I sort through our things, deciding which to store, which to sell, which to donate, which to dispose, I’m confronted over and over again with relics of a season that was overflowing with good. I will only remember us as happy here. Even when we struggled, even in the wake of tragedy and in the depths of sorrow, we were happy here. And so in love.

The future is fraught with uncertainty. I am acutely aware of exactly how little control I have over this or any other outcome; I can be responsible only for myself, my thoughts, my deeds. I can also be responsible for my children, acting in their best interest, working on their behalf to continue to preserve the innocence of their youth. Whether three or thirteen, they are still young and impressionable and deserve to know the adults in their lives are striving to protect and support them.

There will come a time when this will be yet another catastrophe I have survived. I will look back and recognize how, in spite of the devastation and heartbreak, I grew into someone even stronger and more flexible than I am today. I am nothing if not resilient. And I will never, ever stop believing in love.

PS: I posted the twentythird piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

SIGH NO MORE

Seven months ago, in the midst of what felt like the greatest loss I could possibly suffer, I could have never imagined the losses I would suffer subsequently.

Unfathomable.

Digging deep to find grace in the fact that there is only one place to go from rock bottom.

PS: I posted the twentysecond piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

SAFE + SPACE

My home is my safe space.

Where words of love are spoken,
like honey,
we sing songs of rain
and sunshine,
blessings on the blossom,
amen.

I live with my family,
my family lives with me,
we live together,
together live we.

When hearts
like ours
so quickly and so true
and for so long only happy and good
and connected
on levels beyond
find each other, we
do not let go.

Do not let go.

PS: I posted the twentyfirst piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

ON A HOT TIN ROOF

The past few weeks have done a number on my adrenals, as I’m living in a perpetual state of fight or flight. It’s exhausting, and it’s only going to get more intense as the rest of this month progresses.

My objective is to remain supremely dedicated to what’s most precious to me, my people. Keep close in times of trouble. Remember what’s truly important.

Have faith, trust in love.