on finding my stride.

It has been awhile.

A long while since I’ve shared.

Longer than I planned for. Longer than I wanted. But life has a way of doing things you don’t expect. Twists and turns. And sometimes, we’re just in over our head. Not sunk, but not floating.

 

I’ve been writing, but not sharing. In the recent months I’ve morphed from an external processor, to an internal. Not by choice. But it has been the only way to sift through these several months. Quietly, privately, and mostly by myself. A foreign concept until this season.

I typically like to share when I’m in the midst of the mess. But sometimes you just get the wind sucked out of you, and it takes a little bit to catch your breath and find your footing.

Day by day, I’m getting there. Finding my stride again. And part of my stride, part of me, is sharing.

In January, Casper and I decided we would try to have another baby. We didn’t try for the first baby (I know, such a HUGE blessing), and now, he is our most amazing surprise ever.

There were so many parts of my heart that were uncertain if we should have another child. I just wasn’t sure. But a lot of friends have told me they’ve shared in these mixed emotions. It’s a big thing, bringing a human into the world. Not a choice to be taken lightly.

After a ridiculous amount of talking and praying, Casper and I agreed we would give it a year. We would try in 2015, and if we got pregnant, great! And if we didn’t, then we would accept that our family was complete with Leo.

This is all a lot easier to see on paper. Sounds really nice and clean and simple. We’ll try for a baby, and we will either have one, or not, and it’ll be great either way.

If I’m being honest, I thought we’d be pregnant in no time. Leo wasn’t planned, so I assumed that if we were planning for one, it would happen super fast.

That was not our story this time. We aren’t unique in that. I know many, many friends who have a story of their own. Most more difficult and painful. But I think no matter how long it takes, my heart hurts for every single woman who longs to have a baby, and then has to look at a negative pregnancy test. Whether it’s once, or 100 times. My heart just breaks thinking of the loneliness and heaviness that comes with this deep disappointment.

 

After months of trying to get pregnant, and 6 negative pregnancy tests, our 7^th one came back positive.

Late in May of last year, I had a creeping suspicion that I was pregnant, even though the timing didn’t quite line up in my mind, so I took a test, and there it was: POSITIVE.

We were thrilled. And scared. And overwhelmed. But thrilled.

AND, the icing on the cake was that my best friend, who had an extremely long road getting pregnant with her first child, was pregnant with a complete surprise baby!! And we were due days apart!

After bringing one beautiful, healthy, BUSY baby into the world, there was a naïve part of me that assumed things would go the same way.

 

About a week after I found I was pregnant, I had a miscarriage.

It stings typing those words. It stings because it hurts, but it also stings because I know so so so many women, some of you who are reading this, have experienced this. I’m so sorry to those of you who understand this word beyond a medical term that happens to ‘other people,’ but instead, it’s a part of your story. Of my story.

And that’s just it. Please know that this is my story. I cannot pretend to know what many of you have gone through. There are a million instances that I can think of that are easily more painful, and tragic, and dramatic than what we went through… but I can’t tell your story.

I can tell mine. In hopes that it will resonate with someone. That it will bring hope, or comfort. That it could bring courage, even. In hopes that you, too, would share your story. Maybe not publicly like this, but with someone. So you don’t feel so alone. That’s the worst part of losing a baby in my opinion: the loneliness.

The summer was filled with grief mixed with confusion.

Things I look forward to processing more and diving into on this blog, with each of you. Again, because I feel deeply inclined to use my love for writing and community to bridge some gaps through our stories.

Fast forward 6 month, and here I sit, 16.5 weeks pregnant. I know this is a gift. A crazy fast change from the loss of 6 short months ago. And I wish I could say it’s been dreamy and brought full healing…but it hasn’t. This pregnancy has been filled with fear and anxiety. Fear of loss. Fear of the unknown. It is a deeply vulnerable thing to be pregnant … knowing all that could go wrong, hearing horrible, heart-wrenching stories… it can be overwhelming. Couple the fear with the physical strain of this pregnancy. I have been so sick. Sicker than I ever was with Leo. And this sickness has worn on my body, but also my spirit.

 

So after months or quiet processing, I’m reopening myself and my story to this little community. Mostly because I am craving feeling like myself again. I’m not fully there, and not sure I’ll ever return to something of the past… but I know that as I forge ahead in healing and growing, I need to honor who I am. And part of who God created me to be comes alive on this blog. It is hard, and takes a big dose of courage… but it also brings me life and helps me find my stride again.

Thank you for reading. For sharing. For letting me share. Thank you for caring about my teeny tiny corner of the world, and allowing me to process with you. It is a gift to me, and I pray I can one day give you just a little bit of peace, or hope, or joy as you walk out your story.

We’re in this together.