April Reflection

I’m sitting on the couch during nap time, curled up next to my sleeping dog. The laundry is folded and put away, the ironing finished, so I can relax a bit before the boys wake up. It’s quiet. Yesterday I was in short sleeves, and today it is snowing, so I’ve been texting with Rob about how much we hate the weather. It’s been a good day today—the boys have been happy and content—but my mind feels a bit unsettled of late.

A few days ago, I went for my post-op appointment. The miscarriage itself was very drawn out, dragging on for about three weeks. It was emotionally and physically grueling, but it is at long last behind us. The post-op appointment, two weeks after the D&C, felt like the “last thing” of the miscarriage that I needed to do before I could fully feel able to move on, move forward. Anyway, at the appointment, I learned that the genetic testing we’d opted for after the D&C showed that Finley had a genetic abnormality.

Grief Right Now

My womb is so empty.

I ended up still needing a D&C. For days after miscarrying, I continued to cramp and pass large golf ball sized clots. The baby was gone, yes, but there was a buildup of blood they said could lead to infection. So I went in for surgery last week and had my womb scraped clean.

I’ve never been in an operating room like that before and I admittedly got pretty scared. But then I woke up in another room, no memory of anything at all, just waking to the knowledge that all remnants of that pregnancy were in a trashcan somewhere. Before the procedure, I had to fill out a piece of paper where I designated what I wanted to be done with the “pregnancy tissue.” I knew I had already fished my baby out of the toilet, so it didn’t really apply to me, but it made me sad for all the others who have to fill out that same form.

So Loved

God’s love: When you’re a Christian, you tend to hear a lot about it. Especially during the Easter season, there is an emphasis in church on the John 3:16 truth: “For God so loved the world…” I memorized that verse a long time ago as a six year old in Sunday school and AWANAS. But for whatever reason, I have a hard time incorporating that truth into my practical reality.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been let down by others, so I brace myself to be let down by God. Or maybe it’s because I have such a hard time loving myself that I can’t comprehend someone would actually love me. Whatever the reason, God’s love has always seemed intangible to me, something I can’t quite grasp.

I’m not a perfect person. In fact, I can be a downright lousy person when I want to be. I’m always selfish. I’m often jealous. I have a quick and petty temper. I hate those parts of myself, and I’m pretty sure others aren’t too fond of them either. I hurt those closest to me, over and over and over. So could God love me? Yeah, yeah, I know he loves me because that’s what I’m supposed to believe. But…really? I don’t think I’ve actively believed it.

But then I had a baby.

Thankful

I’ve been wanting to blog for a while now, but every time I’ve thought about sitting down to write, something kinda strange kept me from my computer. I wanted to write, but I wasn’t exactly sure what was going to come out once I did.

Those of you who’ve followed me know that I tend to write about an issue, concern, or pressing thought when I have one. Lately, though, I just haven’t had any. And you know what? That’s been pretty great. It’s nice not to have a concern constantly bearing down on me. 

What are you waiting for?

I’ve always had a type A personality, even as a little girl. I liked being the best, being on top of things 100% of the time, and being in complete control. Growing up, this manifested as perfect grades. I slaved over homework in order to have the perfect report card. I was perfectionistic in other ways too. I never wanted to compete in sports because I knew I couldn’t win. If I was bad at sports, why bother trying? I avoided anything I knew I couldn’t completely succeed in.