As I begin typing this, I realize it has been exactly two months since I miscarried what would have been our fourth child. Oddly, it seems like a lifetime ago, but I find that part of my heart is still tender when I think about it. Days have gone by when I haven't thought about it at all, but most days, I think about it at least for a moment. Yesterday morning while driving to church, I thought about my baby in heaven and in my mind I heard, "Today I would have been 17 weeks. I'd have already been feeling our baby move and kick, and we'd be finding out the gender within the next few weeks..." It's hard not to think that way, to go through the what-ifs and maybes and what-would-have-beens.
For the month of November, I decided to take a break from Facebook. Even though it is my link to everyone--and Lord knows I need some adult interaction and social connection considering I'm home all day every day with three small kids--it was making me depressed. I literally know a dozen different women who are pregnant and due between the months of March and June, and although I am happy for their joy, it was like pouring salt into my wound every time I would see a post related to their pregnancies. Maybe that seems hateful or unwarranted, considering I have children and can clearly conceive and carry a child, but something happens to a woman when they miscarry, no matter if they have no children or a Duggar-sized family. And I just. Couldn't. Take. Anymore. It was similar to being in a hot, cramped room, where you feel like you're suffocating and feel as though you might faint at any moment. That's how I felt. I had to get out of there.
Truth: Being away from Facebook, even though it's only been a week or so, has helped tremendously. I've been able to think about other things. I've been reading more, both from the Bible and from books I've been wanting to get around to reading. I've been more attentive to my children (not that I wasn't before, but without the added distraction of Facebook, I feel like I've been transferring that extra attention to them). I've been working on my homemade Christmas gifts as well. Oh, and blogging, obviously, which I always wish to do more of but "never get around to".
Of course I realize that I can not completely avoid the things that trigger my emotions regarding the miscarriage. Reminders are going to be inevitable. Like when I hang out with one of my close friends who is expecting. Like when I am in public and see big, round, pregnant bellies. Like when my daughter tells a relative or a friend or even a perfect stranger, "My mommy was going to have a baby, but the baby died."
With it being the month of Thanksgiving, I have been reminded to count my blessings and not my tears and try not to dwell in the things that I can not change nor control. I stumbled upon a quote by C. S. Lewis the other day that really struck me, and it truly sums up my feelings of late: "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do what is best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be." My prayer is that no matter how this all plays out, no matter what God's ultimate plan is, I will be able to look back and clearly see the ways God was at work and realize that in my own internal darkness, the light had been there all along.
