Today I read a real and raw article about miscarriage. Read it here: http://www.scarymommy.com/sister-miscarriage/
I've written a couple posts on my two miscarriages, and have been somewhat vocal and approachable about my experiences in the past. It's not something I'd ever wish on another woman, but it's an experience that causes you to lose a little naivety and innocence that has the ability to change you for the better or for worse. Whether you've experienced infertility or child loss at any stage, the temptation to 'hate' those who have children is real. I struggled with this off and on after each miscarriage, and tried to make a conscious effort to chose not camp out in the secondary emotion (rage), but to allow myself to feel the primary emotion (sadness, grief). I'd walk through a store and see a mom wearing her little baby, get surprised by grief, touch my empty belly, and allow myself to cry. It was humiliating, but it was healthy. I needed to not shift my emotions on another, but feel my own pain and process the loss. It was real, it was a life, and it's gone.
I have many close friends who have and are struggling with infertility and/or child loss. Now that we are welcoming our son in the next couple weeks, every post, every comment I make, every time I touch my swollen belly in their presence or not, I am reminded of their pain, and I try to remember that empty, hollow sadness and anger. On one hand, It is so important to feel joy because we are in a season of blessing and new life, but it is absolutely imperative to always remember what it was like to be in that position, to have compassion, to be able to grieve with another and allow them to be where they are and process their grief however they need to. I have found on a rare occasion that I need to protect my own heart from another's grief process as sometimes they may choose anger directed at you, but it's in the place of guarding one's heart where one must continue to choose compassion and not condemnation. This is hard, and often means practicing that compassion from a distance, but it is still the most important decision to love.
It's also important to recognize your own season, be grateful for it, and to celebrate it however you want to without feeling condemnation. It's both - joy and compassion; sadness and jubilation. Most days are great for me now, mostly because I tried not to stuff my feelings. But on other days? Just like that, grief pops it's head up in the midst of happiness and reminds me that I have two babies that aren't with me. What does one do when that happens? Personally, I let grief come in, stay for a little bit, thank it for doing its work and healing my heart just a little bit more, and I release it. At first, it feels like this is a constant process, but it gets easier with time, allowing yourself to face your pain, and choosing love.
Bottom line: child loss and infertility suck, but having a soft heart is a beautiful choice we all have the power to make in the midst of suffering. Choose love.
