Three months ago, I was sitting exactly where I am sitting today: on the couch in my living room in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday. If the irony wasn’t so morbid, I might find the coincidence interesting.
Today, I’m here because we got another snow day from school.
Then? I had just taken Misoprostol the night before, bled my guts out, and was waiting to see if my miscarriage was ‘finalized.’
It wasn’t. I had a D&C two days later.
But that was three months ago. A lot can happen in 90 days.
I think back to those weeks surrounding my miscarriage – before and after – and they are almost too painful to remember. I don’t want to relive them, not even in my memories. But today, I was flipping through my journal, and I came across some entries from that time. It was dark. Hollow. I was disoriented. Completely lost in a fog.
That was three months ago. Ninety days. And today, I am grateful. I can’t say that I am grateful for my miscarriage; maybe some girls stronger than I am can say that, but I’m not there yet.
But I am grateful. First, I am grateful that, slowly, the sun started coming up on my life again.
I am grateful that my body still remembered how to laughter, and my mouth hadn’t forgotten how to smile.
I am grateful that every joy tasted a little sweeter in contrast to the awful sadness I was swallowed up in.
I am grateful for the last memories I had with my parents and sisters in my old house before they moved, even – or especially – in the middle of this train wreck.
I am grateful for the healthy lifestyle changes that this miscarriage has prompted me to make.
I am grateful for the flowers, texts, CDs, books that friends gave me to show me I wasn’t in this alone.
I am grateful that all of my tests showed nothing seriously wrong and something a only little bit wrong that is easy to address.
I am grateful that sharing of my story has helped other women reach out and share theirs.
I am grateful that I’m starting to hear God’s voice again, and it is like hearing the birds again for the first time after a long, cold winter.
I am grateful to be surrounded by an abundance of caring, compassionate friends who threw me on their backs and carried me through this dark valley.
I am grateful for a job I love, with people I love, that provided a vital distraction to get me through those long days.
I am grateful I turned 40, even though it came without a baby; some people don’t even get that.
I am grateful for a husband whose faith and serenity during this trial kept us anchored.
I am grateful for doctors and medicine and modern technology that still make motherhood a possibility for me.
I am grateful for God, who, when doctors and medicine and modern technology fail, He STILL can make motherhood a possibility for me.
I am grateful that this journey isn’t over; we haven’t come to the end of the road yet.
I am grateful there is still hope.
Three months ago, I really wasn’t aware or grateful for any of these things.
But a lot can happen in 90 days.
Miscarriage changes you. It does in all the expected ways: that pregnancy will never be ‘normal’ for you, that you have a different set of milestones and ‘anniversaries’ that other women don’t have, that fear is a constant companion in any detail surrounding TTC – doctor’s appointments, pregnancy tests, blood tests, sonograms, symptoms.
But, it’s possible for miscarriage to change you for the better. It’s not automatic, but it’s possible. And that’s been the secondary battle I’ve been fighting since my miscarriage – not just to survive this, but to become a better person through it. To defeat it. To not let it ruin me. To redeem it.
A lot can happen in 90 days – and timing is everything. In my devotional today – and recently, the idea of timing kept coming up. An appointed time. God’s timing. A time for everything.
I don’t know the reason why, but three months ago just wasn’t our time. For reasons I have no way of comprehending, it just wasn’t the right time. The appointed time. I genuinely believe there are reasons why God allowed us to walk through what we did. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be a right time for our family to begin. And only God knows when that right time is.
I truly believe that someday, when it is right, our appointed time will come. There is a date circled on God’s calendar with our baby’s name on it. That date just wasn’t three months ago.
But a lot can happen in three months – 90 days. A lot can happen in one month. One week. One day. One minute.
“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven” – Ecclesiastes 3:1
A time for everything. EVERYTHING. We don’t know what all of those ‘things that are appointed for us’ are; we don’t know when all of those appointed times are. But what I have learned in three months is this:
My times are in Your hand. – Psalm 31:15
And timing is everything.
[Photo Credit: Pinterest via Mindi Brown]