I feel guilty updating this blog on my miscarriage. The actual miscarriage, or what people probably label as the actual miscarriage, ended almost three months ago. In fact, medically speaking, my hormonal levels should be leveled out right about now, and we are at the point where we could possibly try again. Without going into TMI territory, we have decided to wait for a little while, very various personal reasons.
On the mental and emotional note, I realize now more than ever that a miscarriage does not end at diagnosis. It does not end when the bleeding stops. I consider myself a pretty logical person, with the occasional frustrated emotional outburst. I enjoy a pretty optimistic outlook on life, so when I experience any form of depression, it feels very foreign to me. Writing and talking about it with close confidantes are the two ways I deal with such issues. Blogging is a combination of the two.
Lately, I have been depressed. It really did sneak up on me. I didn’t realize it had anything to do with my miscarriage because I honestly thought I was over it. June was amazing, and July was incredible. I had a new sense of purpose when I turned 30. I got to spend time with friends and family. I have grown with new experiences and projects. God has revealed new and exciting plans for me. So why is something that happened months ago having such an affect over me now?
Because even though I have denied it over and over, I am in mourning. I’m not grieving the loss of the child because I still can’t really wrap my head around that one, but I’m grieving the loss of the process. I would have been 25 weeks along by now, picking out colors and filling out registries based on the recently announced gender reveal. Because I’m still dealing with this loss, Facebook seems to be all about babies lately. It seems everyone is gender-revealing or birth-announcing. I see the swaddled sweethearts and my heart just aches. Even making plans for later in this year has been harder than I thought it would be, whether it’s trips or holidays. I just feel like I’m on this strange road that no one else seems to be traveling.
I feel like an outcast. My church and community are both family focused, and while the nuclear family isn’t really expected, kids are. People say that having kids can be inconvenient, but not having them can be equally inconvenient. We don’t get invited to the family friendly nights out or trips or special events because we have no kids. It feels like we have been put in a penalty box or asked to sit on the sidelines and just watch everyone else play the game.
At times, I feel useless. It’s not as if my worth is tied up in my ability to procreate, it’s more that I’m just not needed. I don’t have any advice for the potty training mommy. I don’t understand what to do when a tantrum erupts (at any age). While I may be able to have the needed adult conversations, I can’t participate in mommy adult conversations. There isn’t really a next life stage after the “young marrieds” stage, unless it involves kids. I’m just in this limbo, and it’s awkward and even at times painful.
However, even with all the mourning and feeling useless and like a outcast, I know God has a plan for me. The Bible has loads of stories about women who wanted children – Sarah, Rachel and Hannah come to mind. If Abraham was the Father of Nations, then Sarah was the Mother of Nations. Rachel had Joseph who would end up saving his entire family and was the right hand to the Pharaoh. Hannah gave birth to Samuel who was the prophet who anointed kings. These were strong women who had God in their lives. So, if God does amazing things with these women, how much more does he have in store for me?
This post has gotten very long, even for me. I wish I could write that everything is going great, and really it is. I guess I will just have my moments, and this was one of them. There are a lot of opportunities and doors opening for me lately, and I’m very excited to see where they lead. And I know that no matter what, if God is real and present in my life, that is all that truly makes me joyful, accepted and worthy.