Grief, Misconceptions, and Lies

February 20th came and went and I didn't have any words. One of my best and dearest friends who knows my heart more than most and like me expresses her emotions with words on paper knew the date was coming up and had intuitively told me I should write about it. But, I had no words. I was still processing everything, specifically that day in August. We should have a four-month-old baby today.

I was listening to one of my favorite songs the other day. It's a song that usually brings me so much peace, joy and comfort but that day it transported me back to "that season." That's what Matt and I refer to that time as. Grief is a strange animal. You go through a period of time and wonder, "Will I ever be able to come out of this?" And then one day you realize out of no where - while it still hurts - you did. You came out of that funnel of darkness where everyone around you is happily moving past but you are trudging slowly through the mud or not even moving at all. You are very isolated, as if your life has been put on pause. It's a really lonely time even when you are surrounded by love and support. For a brief moment during that song, I was back in that darkness. In the fog. It really made me thankful that time and prayer had help me get through that darkness and I appreciated the light even more.

One of those reasons to be thankful is that we are expecting another baby soon. It by no means replaces our Georgia but it has given us something positive to focus on. We are beyond ecstatic to be adding to our family. We're also approaching the one-year mark of that day in August. While I have somewhat processed my grief over the loss of a child - I mean, as much as one can, I have not fully processed the events of that day. I still find myself questioning, "Did that really happen like that?"

Which brings me to another topic. Insert eye roll here but there are just some experiences that you do not truly understand until you have experienced them for yourself. Miscarriage was one of those experiences for me. One may think that miscarriage is simply being pregnant one day and then not the next. I can assure you for most it is not like that at all. That in-between time of being pregnant and then not being pregnant is not a peaceful process. Even if you lose the baby very early on, there are still a lot of painful emotions that you have work through - not to mention physical pain. And if it happens later on, regardless of the option you choose - naturally, D&C, or taking medication to speed things up - none of them are pleasant by any means, you just pick your poison. It can be a long process - taking days or even weeks.

I elected for a D&C because I was just ready to move forward. It had been a long week already. When I had realized there was a problem it was a Tuesday but things tapered off and I held out hope that things would be okay. But things progressed and by late, late Thursday I had gotten confirmation at the ER that our baby had indeed passed on. Friday morning we traveled back to Georgia from North Carolina to see our own doctor but was told we had to wait for a room at the hospital to have the D&C performed and they didn't actually schedule it until the following week. Can you imagine waiting that long? My body apparently couldn't because by lunchtime I had started having severe cramps. It wasn't a peaceful process, it was actually a very hostile experience - my uterus violently contracted for hours and hours that day - progressively increasing the pain until I felt like I couldn't take it anymore. It was relentless. The only calm in that day was when I finally had her and the pain somewhat subsided and I could catch my breath. And then I held something in my hand that was once living, growing and thriving inside of me. It was surreal. And that is the day I am still processing. When it is raining I often find myself thinking of her - something I once had growing inside of me is now buried in the Earth. It's a strange thought, I know.

When someone shares with me that they have been through a miscarriage, I instantly feel a connection with them. I feel you. And any kind of grief for that matter. I have been in that darkness, too.

Another element I struggle with is dealing with the dynamic of our family. With our family growing, I often get asked by strangers upon seeing my belly, "Is this your first or your second?" I say, "second." My heart screams, "LIAR." Technically, it's our third child. Right? See, I don't know how to respond to that. My heart says no, but to the outside world, yes, this baby girl is our second child. Which is why I feel strange referring to our family as a "family of four" so I prefer "party of four." My heart accepts "party of four," in our home though, we are a family of five. We will always include Georgia in our family. She is our family. My girls will grow up knowing that there is a baby up in heaven that they will one day meet.

So, on August 15th, I will be loving on my girls and maybe painfully remembering the elements of that day but will be even more grateful we came out of that because I guess you have to have the dark to appreciate the light.