Normalcy?

Today marks the 3rd day I have been back to teaching since the miscarriage, and I will say this: For a career I was never 100% sure was meant for me, there are times when it is just about the ONLY thing I feel comfortable doing. This has been the case since we lost the baby. When I am alone or at home, there are so many reminders of what is happening; conversely, when I am standing in front of 25 kids, teaching them how to conjugate verbs or how to play a new review game, I really can't focus on anything other than their faces (excited, bored, apathetic or otherwise). It's the nature of the job. You have to be "on" 100% of the time, or you will lose them. It's an exhausting endeavor, but it's that very facet of it that I am so thankful for right now. I looked out their faces today and thought, "These kids have NO idea what is going on in my life. To them, this is business as usual." And that didn't make me sad. Actually, I was grateful for the 70 minute chunks of time when I wasn't just the girl grieving over a lost child. They remind me that the future holds so much that we have no idea about. There is beauty in that, interwoven with the terror of the unknown, and their young faces remind me that there are so many things to look forward to, despite all we cannot control (which is most everything, it would seem).

So work is good and for right now I am glad to have the moments of "normalcy." There are even brief periods where I feel like this never even happened, which unfortunately never last long enough. Then I feel a twinge of pain in my abdomen, or I go to the bathroom only to encounter more blood yet again, and then the moment is instantly gone. BUT, for the moments where I forget, where I could still be the girl who believed "this type of thing" wouldn't ever happen to her, for those moments... I am so thankful. It's not reality, and it never lasts, but it's at least a taste of what life was like before. And I desperately miss what life was like before.

Actually, I say that, but it's not completely true. There are aspects of "before" that I miss, but I am quite sure that what I really am missing is the "during" experiences of being pregnant. There is nothing more amazing than realizing you and the person you love more than anyone on earth have come together to miraculously form this new, precious little life. That this little one is a combination of both of you, and that every single day it is growing at science-fiction like rates to become your future child... I am convinced there is no greater feeling on earth, unless of course you count the moment where you actually get to hold and MEET said baby during its first moments this side of the womb. I can only assume THAT will be the most incredible moment of all. So I say I miss what life was like before this whole ordeal, but I don't really. What I miss is the innocence of believing my pregnancy would be a perfect and safe one, complete with a happy, healthy infant at the end of the 9 month ride. I will never get that feeling back, but I pray to God I might still get the final product one day.

My sister-in-law, Kathy, sent me a book I am really eager to read. A friend of hers who has recently miscarried twins recommended this to her as a very real comfort during her pain. The book is called Silent Grief, and while I have thus far only read one chapter, I can already tell that it will be a book of great comfort to me. The words of someone who has survived this hell are a comfort to anyone going through it, and the truth behind what she writes has already moved me to tears multiple times. I should also say, to each of you who has shared with me what your miscarriages have been like for you, thank you, so much, from the bottom of my heart. To realize we are not alone in the loneliest place imaginable is such a very real blessing, and I love each of you so much. I can only hope that I will one day be a comfort to someone hurting like I am now. It is one of the only positives to be gained from this, so far as I can see. And that is not say that I am not appreciative of EVERY kind word, hug, email, etc., regardless of if you have been through a miscarriage or not. Each person who has acknowledged our loss has helped in the healing process, and I thank God for every person in my life who has been willing to cross into the horribly uncomfortable territory of pain and grief. It's no place to spend time alone, so thank you for visiting me here.