A Little Memorial
We held the memorial service in our living room–a fitting place since most the events happened there–with us, the kids, and my mother-in-law. It was an emotional and peaceful service. Short and sweet.
All About Science
Every person handles loss differently. For me, I use my knowledge of science and reproduction to obsessively deduce what has happened.
Because of the severity of the miscarriage–the intense contractions, bleeding, and clotting–it would seem that I was about 8 weeks along. Unfortunately, the hCG levels remained at a 4-week level. Slowly increasing. Very slowly. This left the embryo in a very inhospitable environment, especially since the amniotic sac was already having trouble connecting to the endometrium.
My body rejected the growing baby.
During the memorial service, a little voice whispered, It’s okay. Your baby is safe with me. Keep moving forward.
Moving forward doesn’t mean forget, it means continue to live. I have much living to do with my sweet husband and beautiful children. And with myself.
I have kept myself secluded inside my house. Afraid to be outside, unsure of how I would react to questions and condolences.
I feel myself ready to take baby-steps. Taking short walks around the neighborhood. Cooking meals. Talking with neighbors, friends, and family. Big gatherings, like church, are still too much. Too painful. But I’m emerging.
Many friends have brought over flowers. They bring much comfort. Their vivacious beauty reminds me how to live: It’s more than smelling the flowers, it’s nurturing them.
On returning home from our short getaway, I ran up the stairs, into my babys’ rooms (they were sleeping) and scooped them into my arms. I smelled their delicious scent and smothered their smooth faces with kisses. Lots and lots of kisses.
I’m not as brittle as I was a few days ago. I feel strong. Powered by my husband’s love, my children’s affection, and the Plan of Salvation, I know I can heal. The pain will remain nestled within my heart, nudging me every now and then (like all day today), but I feel its rawness dissipating.
I am coming back, armed with a new perspective and knowledge from my experience.