Last night I was driving and began thinking of all the events of the past year or two. It's a whirlwind of memories going through my head. Two things inparticular have continued to hit me hard. The miscarriage and Papa dying. It's so easy to blog about more mundane things, about daily stress and personal opinions. But it's nearly impossible for me to blog about the things that have hit me right in my innermost core. There are only two blogs to date regarding the miscarriage, both of them very angry posts. And not a single blog about Papa. I wish I could say I played those emotions out in real life but that's not the case. I internalized all of the pain and hurt and slowly the anger as well, forcing myself to believe I had to keep picking up pieces and move on. They've stayed in a very safe, locked up place for well over a year now. I'm not sure why I've kept so removed from them. Self-protection perhaps. Or maybe the fact that it just hurt way too much to let feelings surface more than necessary.
The morning after I had the miscarriage Byron and I went in for an already scheduled appointment. It was supposed to be the first appointment where we could listen to the heartbeat. And yet it had taken a dismal turn the night prior. The doctor performed an ultrasound and without a sign of apathy on her face stated "You've already passed the product of conception." Those words stung. The product of conception. And that was that. It wasn't an embryo to her, not a fetus and certainly not a baby. Simply the product of conception. I think that was the moment I turned off the switch. It was my baby, my child... and it was gone and to anyone but Byron and myself it was a sad situation and nothing more. I think people trying to come up with excuses for God was the worst part. Perhaps something was physically or mentally wrong with it and God was looking out for me. That was a common one. Or people stating that it happens to a lot of women for no known cause, making me a statistic more than anything. It was easiest to shut everyone out.
Switch gears. Shortly after my miscarriage Byron's grandpa died. In a few short years I had grown close to him. At times we were able to visit we could chat and chat and not run out of things to say. We exchanged probably hundreds of emails. And Madison adored him. After the miscarriage I stopped checking my email completely. I didn't answer phonecalls. Wouldn't talk to anyone. He had emailed several times asking if I was okay and if he had done or said something to upset me. And of course he hadn't. I was just trying to survive. But I never saw those emails. Christmas night we got the phonecall that he had died suddenly of a heart attack. I saw the emails from him the following week. I had obviously never responded.
Fast forward just a bit more. Papa got rediagnosed with leukemia for the 3rd time. Twice he fought it and against all odds, beat it. We were blessed with several additional years with him. But that third time hit hard. And after just a few short months I got the dreaded phonecall that I needed to get there. When Byron came to my work and told me how soon I needed to get there I allowed myself to break down for the first time in 3 months. Right there in the construction area at work I sobbed and choked on my own tears and cried out in anger and sorrow. And then I pulled it back together. Well, sort of.
Three major events had crashed down on me. You can only internalize that stuff for so long. After returning from Ohio there was a definite strain on mine and Byron's relationship. PTSD, deployments, all of the events that had just happened.... we were struggling. And the drama continues from there. Many stories throughout the past year. But the constant is that I never began to heal... I never let myself grieve.
About 2 months ago I went to see an endocrinologist for a myriad of health issues I've been having since the miscarriage. I've seen several doctors and I'm pretty sure at this point I had the routine down. The miscarriage was mentioned at every visit and I had become callously accustomed to stating it and moving on. 2 pregnancies, 1 live birth, no known cause for miscarriage, next issue please. But this doctor stopped the breakdown of health issues as soon as I stated the miscarriage. She looked me right in the eye, took my hand and said "I'm sorry for the loss of your baby, truly I am." And the floodgates opened. For whatever reason, whatever amont of sincerity in her voice, whatever emotion I felt at that moment it became okay to grieve. For my lost child, for Byron's grandpa, for Papa, for the past year and a half of confusion and chaos. For the first time my anger towards God began to dissipate and was replaced with questions, the begging for answers and requests to allow myself to begin to heal.
I know that here on Earth I'll never have the answers I want. I know the past 18 months would have been drastically different had a single one of those three events not happened. Through every bit of chaos I can now see the blessings that have been poured out as well. There have been tough days... hard emotions to grapple with.
As I was driving yesterday I was thinking of all three of them up in Heaven. I know how special Madison was to both grandpas and how attached she was to them. And for the first time I was able to find an amazing amount of comfort last night in the fact that my baby, my child was not a product of conception but a child of God with a now everlasting beating heart in Heaven with two amazing great-grandfathers by his or her side. There will still be hurt. There will still be pain and angry moments, sadness and sorrow. But as Matthew West sings "Ohhhh the healing has begun...."
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