I had a miscarriage.

I thought it was my turn. Everywhere I looked my friends are having babies, my kid is having babies, pandemic babies, miracle babies all around me. I thought it was my turn.

I am in love with a man who is in love with me. Who understands how precious and delicate we are and how he should treat us as such, precious and delicate. He thought it was his turn. He has all but declared my boys as our boys, as his boys. And adding a baby to our family felt like his turn.

But I miscarried and we don’t know why. Imagine a world where we could lay claim to such loss. The grief and guilt would be unending and very human. God’s gift in this instance is in the unknowing.

Once past the initial shock and physical aspects that accompany losing a pregnancy. In the moments between the tears there is perspective and this is also God’s gift.

I was able to see so much of my mothering and it is truly the most sacred thing I do. The most mystical thing that I am. I was able to see that this is the one and very likely most valuable experience I’ve had as a woman. No escapism or pretending. It was a horribly unexpected loss that we’re both moving through without disassociating from, and in the same vein this loss will not rule our lives or define us.

I am consciously in my body and I will continue to trust my body to tell me what we need, while understanding that my body and my life are not automatic. They deserve reverence and protection and respect. They deserve celebration, joy, grace, honor and love, right along with the rest of my family. My body and my life deserve the very same.

It is up to me to see myself and my work as a person, as a woman, worthy of the protection necessary to sustain life.

Yes, there is pain and grief – of course. But there is also resilience and depth and true beauty. I have seen and felt parts of this man who is mine I didn’t know existed in another – certainly not in one who has chosen to love me. And in seeing him, in these, our most profoundly difficult moments, I choose him. There is a clarity of self that has arisen in me during this time that has given way to a surety in him that is founded in God.

I was feeling as if I’d truly gotten everything I’d ever hoped for, and for a brief moment I had. But there is something I have come to understand and know about this life. There is no pinnacle. There are moments of rest and peace and recollection, but death is not even the end. We simply choose how we will respond and keep going.

No pinnacles, just plateaus and brief pauses.

And then we begin again. Hopefully with more wisdom, patience, gratitude and love with the restart.

Keep giving yourself permission to keep moving forward.

It is ok to recover and thrive after devastation.

You are not your loss alone. Your loss is not your identity. It is a part of the sum total of your life. And no one, not one of us comes out unscathed.

Many of us are the living manifestations of grace and hope and the light we continue to emit in the midst of our pain and struggle is highly favored and most cherished.

Your sympathy is not necessary, but your love is welcome. ❤️

Love.

A