Weeks after my miscarriage, the rest of the world had moved on. I was expected to perform at my job as if nothing had happened, family dinners felt much the same except for the emptiness I permanently carried with me, my dogs liked me again, and my friends wanted me to join in events just like before. It even felt at times that my husband had moved on, forgotten, buried the thought of our baby deep in his heart where he may never again revisit.
I planned to plant a white weeping cherry willow tree. Something about this tree felt sad and happy all at the same time. The way the branches wept reminded me of tears and the long overreaching love of a mother; protective, beautiful, and sacred. Yes, plant a tree I will…
I planned to write a letter to my baby. To tell them everything in my heart I felt I needed to say. To give myself room to remember & say goodbye. Yes, a letter I think I will…
I planned to continue moving forward, not moving on, because well – no matter what anyone says; the pain never gets better and you never move on.
Though I planned to do all these things, to remember, to cope, to mourn. I didn’t plan on feeling just as bad as I felt. I didn’t plan on fighting the thoughts of worthlessness. I didn’t struggle with blame because truly in my heart I knew I did all that I could to make the pregnancy successful from day 1. However, I struggled many nights wondering why I was continuing this fight?
By continuing the fight I mean life. I reached out to my insurance I was sure it was time to see someone. I was sure what I was feeling wasn’t really normal, I was sure that though grief can consume every fiber of your being my grief was making me wonder was it worth being?
The questions the thoughts they really scared me. I never actually considered ending my life or not moving forward but the question  was it worth it weighed so heavily on my mind.
Over two years of doctors, blood work, scans, painful testing, sperm samples, home equity loan, & 4 different clinics- I couldn’t help but wonder was it really worth it?
They say when you see that beautiful baby and hold them for the first time “it will all be worth it.” But what if that moment never happens, what if IT never feels worth it?
What if all this time, money, energy, sacrifice, brings us nothing but bad memories and heartache?
At your first visit to the fertility clinic they do not tell you the devastating truth that some families will be patients for years and some will stop coming after years, not because they had a baby but because IT was never going to be possible.
So here I am weeks after my miscarriage with no idea if any of this will be worth IT but still giving it my all, still pushing to the next cycle, & remembering IT all happens for a reason.
Miracle in the Making 