Life is beginning to return to a state of normalcy. I am slowing reaching back out to people, the days don't center around grief, we are learning how to be again. Miscarriage is a subject that a lot of people find difficult to discuss. As I re-engage in life, I have struggled with how to share my story, or what to talk about. I am blessed to have people who let me be awkward and recognize my struggles, but it is still hard. Grief comes in waves and you can't always control your reactions.
I had to walk out of a store that had a robot nursery display. That was how I planned to decorate Teddy's nursery, and I found myself sitting in my mini-van sobbing in the middle of downtown. There was an emotional moment after watching my husband play with a friend's baby, and when Harrison spent a whole afternoon pointing out babies. As hard as all of this is, I am fortunate to have a lot of support. Through this blog, I have heard from women who lost children and never told anyone, or those they did tell didn't know how to help them. I can't imagine how lonely and devastating that must be.
It is difficult to discuss miscarriage because it feels so personal. I have experienced the death of my grandparents, and it was painful but they lived full rich lives. How do you mourn someone who didn't get a chance to live? How do you express your deep sadness at the loss of the dreams you had for your child? At the same time, it is terrifying to explain the deeply personal decisions that surround our loss.
The complete loss of brain function, the imminent miscarriage, the added risk of anemia, the potential for our unborn son to be in immense pain, all of these factors swirled around what we found to be the most difficult parenting decision of our lives. We cried in the ultrasound rooms, doctor offices, the car and pre-surgery suite. Justin cried his way back to the waiting room, and I sobbed so hard I had to be calmed before I could have anesthesia. It is easy to share here, in this mildly anonymous environment, but it is so hard to share face to face.
I am thankful for those who have reached out and shared their story of infant loss. Knowing you aren't alone helps. Each day has it ups and downs. I am in a season of loss and change, and it is taking a lot faith to keep breathing in and breathing out. I am awkward and uncomfortable, but God has surrounded us with such patient and loving support that I have found a way to share my story. I pray that all the other mothers who suffer the same loss receive the same grace from those around them.
Thank you friends and family for your continued love and support. Thank you for your prayers, your meals, your ears, and your presence. Thank you for recognizing Teddy as a person and mourning with us. Thank you for all you have done. You are true blessings.