This post was written on April 16, 2016. It was 4 months after my miscarriage and about 1 month before I would find out that I am pregnant once again. I am finally ready to share this with you. It is a mere glimpse into the grief I experienced after the miscarriage.
Today I sent my girlfriend a text message that said, “I weeded. And I didn’t cry!”
Once again I was reminded that grief is not a once and done process. You don’t cry all of your tragic tears in one week, one month, or one year, and then move on. You don’t get it out of your system.
And something I’m learning even more is that the stupidest things will make me cry. The stupidest things will punch me in the gut. The stupidest things will remind me that I am not pregnant. I am not having a baby this summer. We are not becoming a family of five.
Today the stupid culprit was my flowerbed. We have a flowerbed that runs the entire length of our backyard. Every year I battle the weeds, mostly by hand.
But this year was going to be different. I had warned Nate that I won’t be taking control of the weeding like I usually do. He would need to do it. Or we would need to hire someone. Or perhaps I would finally allow the awful weed killer sprays that I have banded from our property.
My belly would be swollen with new life or my arms would be full with my newborn. Either way, I was off the hook for weed duty this year.
But I’m not off the hook.
We lost our summer baby, and now the weeds are another stupid tormentor.
Everytime I look at my flower beds blooming with weeds, I am reminded that I am no longer pregnant.
I am not pregnant.
What should I wear to this event? I was suppose to be wearing a fun maternity dress, but now what should I wear?
Where should I store this box of diapers and wipes? I bought them during a Black Friday sale just days after getting the positive pregnancy test. Now what?
“Mommy, how old are you?” Noah asked me.
With a lump in my throat and tears in my eye, I answered, “I am 34.”
I don’t want to be 34, so close to 35. I don’t want to be so close to crossing that line into “high risk” pregnancy age. And I curse myself for waiting so long to try for number 3.
Yes, I will find something to wear to the event. Yes, I can keep the diapers in a closet until I am ready to use them or give them away. Yes, I can have my 35th birthday and a healthy pregnancy at the same time.
Yes, I can weed my flower beds this year.
But I don’t want to.
Because this isn’t how this year was suppose to be.
Instead this year is filled with grief and stupid reminders that sneak up on me. Yet, I will not allow the reminders to swallow me whole.
I will embrace the grief. I will let it wash over me, but I will not drown in it.
Which is why I am so proud of myself for weeding today. I did it!
And I will do the next hard thing when the time comes.
Are stupid things making you cry? Are you struggling to “pull the weeds?” I know that there are no words to take away your pain, but I am sorry. I am so terribly sorry.
Photos by pippalou at Morguefile.com