Moving Forward from Miscarriage

I'm finally at a point where I can really see how much progress there's been--how much better I am doing than a few months ago. Strangely, I realized this first on a bad evening. Something, I don't even remember what, had me spiraling back down into grief, but even as I sat on our bed with my heart aching I realized how far I've come--because now, I can feel this ache and this loss and the intensity of missing my little one and missing the innocent 'me' that existed before I lost her--but now I can feel that way while also knowing it's only for the moment--that I'll feel better tomorrow. There were a whole lot of weeks in which that aching, lonely heart was ever-present, my closest companion though it all, that there was no such thing as feeling better tomorrow.

A photo posted by Rachel G ☆ Lifestyle Blogger (@randomlyrachels) on Jan 25, 2017 at 5:17pm PST

{For those new here, this is the story of our loss in October}

Thank you, so, so much, to all the friends who have said to me even recently, all these months later--"I'm still praying for you guys." "I still think of you." You don't know how much that means--to know that some realize that for me, it's not all over and behind me and done with. It's still true. My baby's still gone just as much as she was that horrible day in the doctor's office. Several of you have been very thoughtful and have been gentle in the way you announced the news of your own pregnancies to me, and I am honored by your thoughtfulness. But do please know that for me, for these days--I find pregnancy announcements to be a very awesome thing. I think babies are miracles and every pregnancy announcement is a hopeful encouragement that in spite of how miraculous they are, they do come, for real.

But I'm doing a whole lot better than I was. Most of the time I'm okay, now. For weeks afterwards I felt like my creativity, my ability to host events, or to speak in front of people...that it was all gone. I actually stepped down from a few commitments and roles I'd originally chosen to do just because I couldn't trust myself to be able to speak as well or perform as well as I ought to. I mentioned to some that at the time I couldn't even imagine 2017, that I felt paralyzed at even the thought of making new plans for the year--new plans for a year I thought I would spend growing and playing with my precious baby. Here we are, months later, and I have been able to make new plans, and even to become excited about new plans for travel to the USA--right over the few weeks when my little baby should have been born. I am looking forward to our trip. There has been a few moments since we booked the trip, though, that my heart feels squeezed as I think that the only reason we're taking the trip at all is because the baby isn't here anymore--I'd trade the trip, I'd trade anything, if the baby I looked forward to last September was still growing along healthily just as she should have. But that's not an option I was given, so I'll choose the option of looking forward to seeing all the rest of the family members I love while I have the opportunity.

I'm feeling more safe about making commitments to being a part of community projects and stuff of that sort again. My constantly dreaming and scheming mind seems to have switched itself on again, and for that I am ever grateful. I didn't feel like 'me' without my dreams and schemes and big plans that Angel is always trying to tone down. I skip and jump and dance and play with the kids again when just months ago even walking and standing up straight felt like a burden.

There are still unexpected triggers sometimes. Last week I went back to the same hospital for the first time--not for me, but just to visit a friend in the hospital. I didn't think about anything ahead of time, but as we turned on to the streets closest to the hospital I found myself suddenly fighting off panic, realizing that I haven't seen these streets, I haven't seen that hospital since the day I can't bear to think about. My hands shook and I felt sick to my stomach. I very maturely handled the situation by closing my eyes so I wouldn't have to see the surroundings and reciting random nonsense poetry to myself (''Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe, all mimsy were the borogroves and the mome raths outgrabe..." no one else recites Lewis Carroll to distract themselves?) as Angel drove into that hateful parking lot and held my hand and walked me into that same horrid elevator (yes, I have irrational feelings toward the inanimate objects who appeared as stage props in my story of loss. Don't even ask what adjectives I would use to describe that ultrasound machine). By the time we arrived at the room to visit our friend I was able to be normal and okay and not appear to be a crazy person, we had a good visit, and after we left I high-fived myself for being able to go back to that hospital for the first time without crying.

Once since our loss, a neighbor randomly asked how come we've been married so long and have no children. I am fundamentally opposed to finding that question offensive--I'm not offended by it. But at the moment I utterly froze. I could respond with nothing at all. I was grateful for Angel right there to laugh it off and answer something...I have no idea what he even said. I was frozen. Someday I'll be able to answer that again. I'll figure it out. I'm just slow.

I'm an odd mix of personalities. I'm not the more spiritual kind of person who takes comfort from saying I can imagine my baby hanging out on Jesus' lap while He reads her stories or something of that sort. My take on heaven/life after death is that I have no idea what to expect in a practical, literal manner, but I trust God, He made this world and even with the terrible brokenness of this world, it's still really cool and pretty much downright amazing (the odd paradox of our world), and I figure I can trust Him to know what He's doing. No more tears and no more death and no more pain alone will be a big improvement. I'm also not the more scientific kind of personality who is comforted by the scientific fact that a certain percentage of pregnancies end in miscarriage and it's usually for a 'good reason' and scientifically it all makes sense. I understand the science, it just doesn't really cheer me up. I'm not a scientific/logic-based personality. I'm somewhere in the middle--for me, a loss like this has both scientific, physical reasons, and spiritual, eternal implications. And apparently I'm the kind of person who doesn't get over a miscarriage like it's no big deal. I have wished I was the sort of person who could, though. Who could honestly say, "I'm doing okay" long before now. I would have liked to be that person who can "take a lickin' and keep on tickin'." But I have learned that I'm not really that peaceful, calm, content-no-matter-what sort.

Finding my new place, my new role, my new 'me' through all of this has been weird. I'm a lighthearted, easily excited person, and I'm used to viewing my own life as awesome. I'm married to a prankster without a sensitive bone in his body. This sense of bereavement just seems like a wrong fit for us. And there's the contrasting facts that deep down inside, I secretly consider myself a "mom"...although in a very real way I have no reason to do so. I have basically zero shared experience with real moms--two pink lines, a few weeks of morning sickness and ramen cravings, one sonogram of a tiny spot, and love. That's the sum total of my experience of 'motherhood' and I know that it's not the definition of motherhood at all. And yet it was enough to change my 2016 and my 2017...maybe the rest of my years too, to some small extent. It's not like this is something I'll forget or I'll ever not be sad that it happened. But I've rejoined the land of the living and I'm grateful for the truth in what so many of you reminded me--it will get better.

I'm thankful for health and life and and Christmas vacation and cool people all around--on the internet and in real life. I'm thankful for that beloved husband of mine whose idea of counseling and comfort is to say, "I'm a great counselor! When you talk and cry, I sit there and I say NOTHING." It's true. He says nothing. But his non-scientific "Just let Rachel talk" approach seems to have worked (still, I'm not recommending that he pursue any mental health-related career paths anytime soon).

What I want to end with here is that God is faithful. He's not faithful because I got pregnant right away after the miscarriage (I didn't). He's not faithful because of of some even better kid I get to have in the future as long as I didn't have my first kid (that wouldn't really make any sense anyways). He's not faithful for any reason related to results--He's faithful because it's His inherent nature to be faithful. He couldn't be otherwise than faithful.

Daniel 3:16-18 "Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego replied to the king, “O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to give you an answer concerning this matter. “If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire; and He will deliver us out of your hand, O king. “But even if He does not, let it be known to you, O king, that we are not going to serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up.”

"even if He does not."

Linking to Brita.