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.

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.

“We gonna get a new house, mama?”

“Yes, baby.”

“For Roux?”

“Yes, for Roux.”

“Let’s go get it today, mama!”

If only we could, baby.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

I’m very ready for it to be spring, though I have a feeling it’s going to be another long six weeks of winter.

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

I’ve never, ever been good at writing through pain. I’m much better at writing long after the pain has ceased. A fair weather writer, I suppose. When I lost the baby, I made the conscious effort to scribble what I could each day, despite finding myself gutted with grief. At the time, I was convinced it was the worst pain I had ever experienced.

I was wrong.

Looking back at the posts from that time is just so strange, written by a different person, living a much different life that then one in which I am currently inhabiting. I’ve never been more confused, more heartbroken, more lonely, than I am at this moment. I can’t even begin to articulate the details, there are too many of them, and they are complicated and painful and private. The next few weeks are sure to be full of new challenges and obstacles, and I’m being honest when I say I don’t know if I’m strong enough to try to chronicle this kind of journey. It hurts.

I will make an effort, but I’m not making any promises.

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

I was first introduced to Chip and Joanna Gaines through the Instagram feed of someone with whom I went to High School who now works as an Executive Producer on their show Fixer Upper. While I’ve never seen an episode, I’ve seen plenty of behind the scenes footage to get a general sense of their charming personalities and inspiring work ethic. Their memoir was another one of those books that happened to be stacked near the check out counter of our local library, so I grabbed it. I’m so, so glad I did.

Written in tandem, with respective typefaces, it reads almost like a conversation. She’ll offer one part of the story, and he’ll interject with his recollection, or vise versa. I enjoyed learning about their individual history, but I was really taken by their respect for one another as a couple and even more so as business partners. They quite literally built their industry together, from the ground up, and what they have managed to accomplish in a relatively short amount of time is staggering. And all while remaining true to their very strong value system.

I could easily relate to a lot of what Joanna had to say about being a working mother, and I especially appreciated how she shared that her greatest successes began to materialize once she decided to make family her central focus. She talks about surviving versus thriving, and that it’s often all in the choices we make in how we chose to react. Ultimately, the message I took away from this quick and enjoyable read was that the life of your dreams is waiting for you, if you’re willing to have faith, be patient, and work hard.

Learning more about this dynamic husband and wife team of entrepreneurs couldn’t have come at a better time as I ponder my own future and where I’d like to direct both my creative and professional energy. I’m ready to translate many of my ideas into actionable projects – thinking less and doing more, taking responsibility for what I can and letting go of the rest.

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