I am still here, and I am getting by. Grief and recovery after a miscarriage involve highs and lows, but eventually, you have more highs than lows, more smiles than tears, and things get better. For several weeks, I was fully immersed in what a good friend called the "uncontrollable emotional upheaval" that the chaotic hormones and profound sadness of a pregnancy loss involve. If you have been there, I know you understand these words. I am coming out of that fog and, day by day, feeling more and more like part of the world again. (although, honestly, I am still content to stay at home and avoid heart-wrenching conversations)
As Karen Edmisten shares in the Acknowledgments of her inspiring new book, After Miscarriage: A Catholic Woman's Companion to Healing and Hope, it is impressive "how fiercely [I] love the babies [I] lost." (yes, I am only in the Introduction; it has been hard to face the book) To not ever see or touch your child and yet to love him or her with such profound passion is startling to me. This is why the pain is so real and so deep. This is why "Momma Bear" has roared more than she would like these days.
If you are taking the time to read this, please say another prayer for me and my family. Lent is coming, and I know the Lord will challenge us all to greater holiness in this sacred season. More soon.