To the sweet women in my life who have suffered the grief and loss of miscarriage,
I have been thinking about you. I love you all so much!
This week, two articles have crossed my path regarding things to avoid saying to you. I read them hoping that I would feel better equipped to be sensitive to your feelings. But really, they only left me feeling terrified that I might have said (probably did say, in fact) something to hurt you in the past, and that I probably shouldn't say anything in the future, since everything just hurts.
If I have ever hurt you, please know that I wanted so badly to say something to help you. If I hurt you in the future -- well, the same applies, along with my heartfelt lamentation that I still have not learned how to love you and be there for you in your moment of need.
When I was pregnant with Bryce, which has been my only pregnancy, it gave me a tiny sliver of a glimpse into how it must feel to lose something so precious, and, in so many cases, hard won. I felt so scared to open up my heart to this new little person because I had seen you wonderful, capable, nurturing women suffer so much. It is a scary thing to be vulnerable to the pain that might come if things don't turn out as you dreamed -- but I don't need to explain that to you.
But even now, I cannot fathom your loss. I ache for you. I hope for you peace in your hearts over the loss(es) you have suffered, and I still don't know what to say to you. I am in awe at the generosity of spirit you have shown me in the way of joy over my pregnancy and bringing Bryce into the world. In allowing me to share with you the little moments of his childhood -- because it probably stings sometimes to read my blog, or my posts on facebook, or see my photos on instagram, or whatever it may be. Taking care of him is my life these days, so it's what I share. You probably hate it when I complain. I think of you often when I am having a hard day. It makes me hate myself for not appreciating the gift I've been given so easily that has not come without price to people I love. But I can't discount my feelings either. Motherhood has been hard for me. I grapple with the idea of having more children because I just don't know if I can face it all again -- the difficult pregnancy, the delivery, and the post-partum craziness that has engulfed me this past year. When I think of you, each of you, I feel so ashamed that I can't hack it when you would probably be so much better than I. Or when I think of what you would give up to have children that I cannot say I would offer myself. Still, your struggles have taught me so much, and I continue to learn from each of you.
Anyway.
I don't know if I've offended anyone, once again, by putting this out there, but I felt it should be said. It doesn't come close to expressing all that is in my heart. I love each of you. My heart cries out to yours and hopes so hard that you feel that love, and that the dreams you dream come true. I may not ever understand how you have felt, but I love you, and I hope that helps even a little bitty bit.
K
