I was riding on the back of a scooter, with my eyes closed, as my husband and I rode around the island of Moorea. My hair blew in the wind. We were enjoying the last few days of our perfect honeymoon. I felt the beauty and spirit of the island engulf me as I took in my last few picture memories. My heart was full, and I thanked the God above us. I took notice of the honeymoon bracelet still tied around my wrist. It held seashells that were known to bless the wearer with fertility. And at that moment, I knew. But it wouldn’t be until we got home would I receive confirmation.
Looking back, I recall all the excitement, fear, and disbelief. So much disbelief looking at the two dark lines, that I would end up taking a second test. And a third. Until all that was left was excitement and fear. Many would argue, too much excitement, knowing the long journey ahead. But I would live wondering if I had too much fear. Fear of not being prepared to face what it will take to give birth. To be a parent. And fear of facing what would be my ultimate fate. But when you receive confirmation of such happy news, you can’t help but to be happy. And you can’t wait to tell the people close to you so that they’re happy with you. Another idea many would be against, especially so soon…
We were on our way to go camping for the weekend when we made a restroom stop. What started off as a light confusion would only grow to become real concerns. We spent the weekend in a tent in nature, surrounded by mountains and under bright stars. Yet I was disconnected from it all as I struggled physically and emotionally and wrestled spiritually. It’s incredible how close to home the falsehood of fear can feel to that of intuition that it’s sometimes hard to decipher the two. But before we made it back home from our trip, I decided to choose faith over both, as if faith was some sort of insurance.
It wouldn’t be until days later that I would experience such piercing pain would I finally know in my soul that it wasn’t just fear. The truth that I was afraid of facing from the beginning would ring so loud in my head that it would shatter my spirit. Loss of a pregnancy, loss of a loved one, it strikes the same chord in your heart. I had known of that strike before. It wasn’t the physical pain that brought me to my knees. It was a spiritual pain. I mourned alone with God for a moment. I had no desire to seek answers. I sat in the pain of acceptance that these things sometimes happen. And either by chance or by purpose, it’s happened to us.
Experiencing a miscarriage is difficult no matter what stage it occurs. And I believe it happens with more women than we realize because it’s still something that is difficult to speak about. It could feel isolating to speak about it to those who can’t relate. Like you’re on an island of your own. Like they can’t understand the struggle of achieving something that’s come so easy to them. But fortunately, it feels like home speaking to women who can relate. Either personally or by knowing someone else who has experienced a loss.
I don’t look back with regret of sharing the news so soon with a close few. And I have learned to not regret the joy I felt so soon. At the time, a friend of mine reminded me that if we have learned anything in this lifetime, it’s that holding on to hope is never a bad thing. Feeling joy in the moments that deserve joy without the fear of the future taking it from you is simply living in the moment.
I don’t believe God makes mistakes. I believe we sometimes make the mistake of believing we have more control in this life than we actually do. Experiencing the loss of our first pregnancy has only shown me how precious life really is. To appreciate all the things that need to go right in order for life to form. It has matured me. Humbled me. It was a lesson in acceptance over control. Which might be the biggest lesson necessary to take into parenthood.
It would only be a few weeks after our loss until we found out I was pregnant again. Bewilderment, as you can imagine, would take the place of disbelief. Gratefulness would take the place of excitement and faith would take the place of fear. I would quickly believe that God wasn’t telling me “No”, He was telling me “Not yet”. But naturally, I would experience more hesitation this time around, having gained more wisdom. But this hesitation would only be a true test of my faith.
Should I be anticipating another disappointment, or do I stand on my value of experiencing joy in the moments that deserve it? I wish I could say I was able to stand back on my values of being able to live in the moment. But the transition between the first pregnancy and the second was so quick, the healing might have been more in my mind than in my heart. Even though deep down I felt this time around would be different.
In Romans 8 of the Bible, it says in verse 24-25 “For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” It goes on to say in verse 28 “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
With this reminder, and as the weeks went on with no sign of a reason to doubt, my faith grew larger. I was able to feel like myself again, feeling joy in this time that deserved it. I can’t yet tell you how this story ends because as I publish this, God is still writing it. And I’m okay with that. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the past. But I’m not afraid of what’s left to unfold. I’m more grateful now for each day and each milestone reached.
