Indescribable.

My last month in one word.

I wish I had spent more time recording my thoughts and feelings.  Perhaps as a way to help others, or in months to come remind myself where I was and how far I come. But honestly my thoughts wouldn't have been worth sharing.

They would have been angry, bitter, maybe even hateful. Full of hopelessness. Lacking in faith. And more resembling questions than thoughts or answers.

It's sometimes confusing even for me to understand.  This was a surprise gift. Unexpected yet fully accepted with all our hearts.  And really only here for a short blink of our eyes in the grand scheme of life.  So, how can it hurt so bad?  Why after welcoming this surprise is is taken away? We were happy, thrilled actually.  Not bitter.  Not inconvenienced.  Not dreading any part of it. Felt like the dangling of a carrot only to be ripped away.  Heart filled with love to give and the recipient is gone and having never met there's not even memories to cling to.

The feelings that flood a miscarriage momma's brain are confusing, hard to convey and quite possibly damaging to one's spirit.  Blame, shame & guilt top my list.

Despite the statistics the doctor uses as a means of comfort, you instantly blame yourself.  It's something I ate.  No, it's because I didn't eat enough of something I should have.  Somehow I "over did it" and put an undue strain on my body. No, it's because I should have had my body in better shape to begin with.  There was that one morning I forgot to take my prenatal vitamin. Too hot of showers?  Laid on my back not on my side?  Didn't drink enough water? The list goes on. And on.

After the initial shock and blame along comes shame.  Shame hit me hard.  Shame on me. How DARE I be so upset about losing something I never even touched.  I never gazed into his/her eyes to know the color or see them light up when they fell on my face.  I hadn't completed a nursery.  This child never called me "momma" to know if the voice was raspy or soft and squeaky. There was no experience of seeing first steps or first day of school photos.  How can I possibly be justified to be this sad when others have held, kissed and built memories with their children. An actual physical presence...and then lost them?  THAT pain must be more worthy of grief than mine.  

Guilt.  Why can't I just be happy with the three I have? Some people would be happy to have one kid let alone three.  Three healthy kids.  How dare I cry over this loss while seemingly flaunting my fertility? So begins the feelings that those with infertility struggles don't care to hear about your loss.  Then there's those who think more than "x" number of kids is nuts- they don't understand.

You've convinced yourself people don't want to hear about it. And since you feel you are not "worthy" to grieve the unseen you hide.   So, you just don't discuss it.  You stuff, you hide the feelings because  they aren't warranted. People don' t know what to say to you, and besides you don't know how to describe the pain of losing an unknown. Random strangers you encounter who see you with your other kiddos don't know you have a scar on your heart for the one(s) they don't see. They don't know when you look at your family photo it appears empty.

The last month has been a roller coaster of emotions. To be honest my first words to Matt when the doctor left the room after the sonogram were "I'm so angry.  I'm mad.  I'm just pissed."  The words even startled me because anger isn't a usual emotion for me.  However, I landed there- immediately.

The days waiting following the motionless sonogram to my D&C procedure were agony.  Oh the waiting.  Post procedure I struggled.  The anger continued.  My usual "dust myself off and know God has a plan" wasn't  happening. I then further beat myself up for not having stronger faith.

The notion of God's grace was an overwhelming theme that kept hitting me square in the face. From scriptures I came across, texts & encouraging words from friends, small group study on Wed. nights.  It's an area of my faith that I have discovered I didn't fully grasp and the concept is so counter culture to our human  relationships we are in making it even more abstract. But I'm learning...

By far nights are the hardest.  There's so much distraction during the day to keep me busy but the moment I lay down to rest my brain won't turn off.  A rare quiet and uninterrupted time I can actually form and hear my own thoughts. I lay facing the corner of our room that was going to be the nursery.  But luckily I can lay in the silence and just BE.

And that's where I'll stay. Night after night.  Just pushing along trying to figure out what this means for me. Clinging to the hope and grace He offers.

So much has stirred in me the last couple days.  My follow up appointment with my OB is tomorrow.  This week marks time we would have learned the baby's gender. We had been so excited for April.