I posted on this blog exactly four months ago today. While I have continued to write every day since my miscarriage last year, I stopped publishing blog posts. I didn’t feel that I had any positive insights to share. Most of my writings were dark and depressing and I didn’t believe that they would give anyone hope. What I had written also seemed unfinished and I didn’t feel right about sharing. Instead of providing insights that would help someone continue to put one foot in front of the other, I had written a string of random thoughts without any silver linings. I made the tough decision to break my promise and I stopped my blog. It wasn’t a decision that I came to overnight but rather one of those things that happened gradually. On Saturday mornings I would sit down to publish a post and I would question the words on the screen. With each passing week the posts just did not make it to the blog.
Since my last post in February, life has handed me more than my fair share of heartache. I wake up every single morning waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Trials and tribulations are our new normal and I have come to expect the worst. We have lost grandmothers unexpectedly. We sat by and watched cancer take my mother-in-law away from us far too soon. We have faced the loss of another baby, this time with an emergency surgery due to an ectopic pregnancy. We simply cannot handle any more. It’s hard to want to push the publish button on blog posts that are full of so much negativity. They simply do no good.
I thought the miscarriage in November had taught me all of the tough lessons. Boy was I wrong! That’s the thing about life – there are endless lessons ahead for us all. There will continue to be heartache, loss and grief in my life. This won’t be the last of the bad things to come. I’ve been left with a choice and that’s the best part of it all. As I sit here ready to publish this blog post, I am faced with a choice.
Option 1: curl up in a ball, crawl into a dark hole and count all the ways that life is so unfair
Option 2: get up off my ass and move forward
I had the privilege of talking with many of my mother-in-law’s friends at her memorial service and hearing all kinds of stories about the woman that she was and the positive ways that she impacted other’s lives. It made me realize that when that day comes for me, I want to be remembered as the person who didn’t let the tough stuff stand in the way. I want my friends and family to remember me as strong and resilient. I want to leave this world better than I found it. So for those reasons, I choose option 2. I will continue to write. I probably will not publish as frequently as I had initially intended to when I started this blog. I will publish posts when I feel confident they teach the lessons that matter the most to me. Lessons of encouragement, love, passion, perseverance, and faith.
There is light at the end of that tunnel my friends, I promise.
After two weeks of soul-searching, uncontrollable tears, rage, nonstop prayers and a host of millions of emotions it was time, time to share our story. Today I hit the publish button on my first blog post and shared our story on Facebook for the entire world to see. I felt incredibly vulnerable in that moment. As soon as I saw the little orange notification on WordPress signifying the post was live, I stepped away to make another cup of coffee. In that moment while the Keurig made its whirring sound and I waited for my breakfast blend, I questioned myself. Had I done the right thing? What would people think? Would friends or family who didn’t hear the story from me directly be upset? Was I in danger of work colleagues walking on eggshells around me now? Maybe this was a bad idea. I needed a walk. Continue reading “Day 14: Vulnerable”
Over the last few days, I began sharing with people the story of my miscarriage. Someone told me that I was going to be okay because I was strong. They said that it must have been hard to go through the miscarriage, but even harder to talk about it and share my story. I was surprised by their perception of me. What was being said was kind, in the most innocent of ways. And I appreciated their words. But their opinion of how I was handling the circumstances and the reality of how I felt were so far removed from one another. Continue reading “Day 13: Fierce Bravery”
I stumbled upon this video twelve days after my miscarriage. Joe Biden is an amazing man so, it’s only fitting to publish this post the week that he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom. To learn about Joe Biden’s life and hear directly from him what it’s like to experience profound loss and grief, but still get back up and go on, it is motivating and uplifting.
Continue reading “Day 12: Brave”
I woke up this morning feeling normal. I didn’t cry, which I’m pretty sure is the first time that has happened since my miscarriage. I wasn’t sitting around waiting for the other shoe to drop or waiting for things to take a turn for the worse. I honestly felt calm, collected and like an actual human being.
At first this worried me. Continue reading “Day 11: Normal”
52-weeks ago I shared my intention for 2016 by posting the below on Instagram. Instead of making a New Year’s resolution, I adopted a word to guide my year. I chose the word balance for 2016 because I tended to be the type of person who had tunnel vision. If I was going to be a good wife, I thought I had to focus on that 100%. If I was going to have a successful career, I felt that I needed to work 85-hours a week. I was wavering on whether or not I wanted to be a mom because I had no idea how to do that. I had a hard time balancing all of the things that were important in my life, so I forced myself to figure that out. If I was grading myself for my performance in 2016, I earned a solid B.
2016 was a hell of a year. It’s a year that rocked me to my core. But in the end it deepened my friendships, strengthened my marriage and solidified my faith.
Continue reading “One Word for 365 Days”
Did you know that December 25th is very likely not Jesus’ birthday? I don’t mean to trivialize it, but the bible doesn’t name a specific day. There’s no mention of the celebration of Jesus’ nativity in the Gospels or Acts. Certain facts suggest it was likely during a season where the weather was less brutal. We celebrate the birth of Jesus on the 25th of December because it was a time when celebrations surrounding the winter solstice were already occurring across Europe. Piggy backing on those celebrations encouraged the spread of Christianity. If Christmas closely resembled a pagan holiday, then pagans would be more likely to accept it and accept God, so the story goes.
I’m not suggesting that there’s no historical or spiritual significance to Christmas, nor that it shouldn’t be celebrated. However, the significance of the holiday isn’t in the date.
Continue reading “Day 50: The Season of Life”