Since our first miscarriage in 2011 this holiday has filled my eyes with tears and my heart with sadness. With every miscarriage that followed the holiday became more painful, and seeing the swell of a pregnant belly on another became more heart-wrenching. It also created guilt over feeling truly happy for someone else's expectation but struggling to express it because of my own grief. People like to think this is only something that affects women, but witnessing Skunk's pain in the losses has been a unique kind of hell. Through all the losses we have felt powerless, lost and have clung to each other and God for comfort.
Now facing tomorrow's holiday with more hope in my spirit (and uterus) than I've ever had I still have mixed feelings. I know a part of this is due to the continued high risk nature of this pregnancy, and the awareness I hold that until our baby is ALIVE in my arms that this tightness that's been in my chest the past 8 months won't go away. I know that I would willingly give up my life for the life of this child that grows within me, but bargaining has never gotten us anywhere.
I feel drawn to touch back and acknowledge every movement this little one makes.. mostly because I'm still in awe that this child grows within me. After our losses, the time, emotion and money of failed fertility treatments, adoption paperwork, adoption classes, the terrifying ER visit early in this pregnancy followed by the months of strict bed rest this internal movement is something I never thought I'd get to experience. It's an honor to be to be kicked in the side, punched in the cervix and have this unique pressure on my bladder. This baby is a hope that felt forever lost.
It feels like a guilty pleasure to get to image which family member I will see looking back at me from my child's face, since we had long given up the idea that our children would be biologically linked. Will he have my chubby cheeks or Skunk's eyes?
|From my perspective|
This week I realized I can no longer see my feet, and this is my prayer for you too. That if your heart longs for a child that at some point you will no longer be able to see your feet either, or that you will be matched with a birth mother who extends that gift to you. Although the pain is immense you are loved... we don't always know how hope will be delivered or what seasons we need to move through before hope begins to bloom, but these tiny kicks teach me that it is still possible to hope. Again tomorrow is Mother's Day and I don't know how I will feel, but that is okay. I'm part of a tribe of women that are stronger than most could imagine.