If blogging had been a subject in school, I would have never graduated.
I haven’t written much (blogging or otherwise) since my miscarriage because I have been focusing more on breathing and finding joy again. I am astonished that so many drink the cup of child loss and carry on with such strength—and often in silence. I have hardly functioned even while speaking about it.
After months of prayer and therapy and work, I had found that I'd grasped again a semblance of sanity. (Please feel free to contact me if you are interested in ways I found healing, especially if you’re in a similar position.) I approached Easter so thankful I was more myself. And the very week that would have been my due date for baby John, I discovered I was again pregnant.
I haven’t written much (blogging or otherwise) since my miscarriage because I have been focusing more on breathing and finding joy again. I am astonished that so many drink the cup of child loss and carry on with such strength—and often in silence. I have hardly functioned even while speaking about it.
After months of prayer and therapy and work, I had found that I'd grasped again a semblance of sanity. (Please feel free to contact me if you are interested in ways I found healing, especially if you’re in a similar position.) I approached Easter so thankful I was more myself. And the very week that would have been my due date for baby John, I discovered I was again pregnant.
I was overjoyed, but I will not deny it: the early weeks were agonizing—and not simply because first trimester is miserable. Every morning I wished the days forward. I checked my calendar in spare moments, aching and afraid. I clutched for hope, trying to trust that all would be okay, but I also was no longer naïve; I have seen how precariously fragile life is.
Even my daughters looked doubtful when we told them the news. It was as if in their silence, the words hung unspoken between us: We’ve done this before. We know what will come.
Even my daughters looked doubtful when we told them the news. It was as if in their silence, the words hung unspoken between us: We’ve done this before. We know what will come.
Passing 13 weeks was relieving and helped turn a page for our entire family.
And then came my favorite part: finding out the sex. I absolutely love finally knowing something about the alien growing inside me. We were shocked (all of us had assumed it to be another girl), and celebrated the surprise with a family party.
And then came my favorite part: finding out the sex. I absolutely love finally knowing something about the alien growing inside me. We were shocked (all of us had assumed it to be another girl), and celebrated the surprise with a family party.
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Clare gleefully danced around, overjoyed that her dream for a baby brother was coming true.
But Therese, my 4-year-old, was madder than a hornet. She finally eased into the idea when I explained she would likely see him spray me at some point.
Small consolations, right?
But Therese, my 4-year-old, was madder than a hornet. She finally eased into the idea when I explained she would likely see him spray me at some point.
Small consolations, right?
 15 weeks | I am now 18 weeks. I cannot hide the growing life in me anymore. The little boy and his movements become stronger daily. He is here, and I hope to stay. Therese no longer asks when the baby will die, but when the baby will come. I have greater peace now, and hope. I think we all do. Regardless of what does occur, I am thankful. I am grateful to have been given this life, a chance to love for this season. Despite the nipping fears, I know that all will be well in the end. I take consolation in that. |
And that is where I have been. Maybe, just maybe, I will be able to write again soon. I have several projects I would love to get back to. But honestly? Every morning I rise, making grandiose plans for myself… and then 9am hits. So until then, do know I’m forever thankful for your support, even when I must nap instead of stringing together sentences.
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