honesty...

I have a confession: I’d rather be honest than not, but honesty is scary… and I dislike hurting people more than I like honesty, especially when being honest means facing peoples unpredictable and unexpected responses... So what do you do when you’ve been avoiding honesty for so long that sorting out how you really feel is like brushing a rat’s nest from you hair? I get quiet and contemplative. I get still. I get real… and since I’m being honest, I can honestly say the last six months of my life have been my darkest. You see, we had two miscarriages three months apart.

If I’m honest, there is nothing in the world I wanted more than to become a mother, to watch my husband become a father and to see my parents become grandparents. I couldn’t contain the joy I was feeling at the thought of this new adventure. It bubbled from my glowy skin and the bounce in my step. These two pregnancies and babies were wanted with more zeal and passion and love than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. Contrast that to their end… no heart beats… shattered dreams… hopelessness… and deep, dark, isolating sadness.

If I’m being honest, I can tell you that today is one of the hardest days I’ve had on this journey. For the fifth time this month I learned of another pregnancy announcement for an October baby, the same month our second baby was due. All the while, the fifteen people (yes, fifteen!) who were pregnant and due within weeks of our first baby are now having their babies… My feeds on social media are full of joyful news every day… and my heart wrestles with the happiness I feel for their new babies or new pregnancies, and the sadness I feel for our loss. And since I’m being so honest, it’s the worst juxtaposition my heart has ever felt. It’s hard. And I wish I was in a different place…

If I’m being honest, I should mention what a trooper my husband is. And how supportive my parents and friends are. If I’m being honest, I’d share that these two losses were significantly harder than the two years of what we called infertility thinking we weren't able to get pregnant. And if I’m being honest, I wish I could fast forward through the next few months… though, I know the pain and the work will be worth it (though how has yet to be revealed).

If I’m being honest, I’d share that I am a changed person from these experiences. It’s too soon to tell how quickly or how well I will rebound, or how permanent the emotional damage will be. But honestly, I have a strong desire to be okay… to feel whole and normal again… and to mend my broken heart.

If I’m being honest, I’d say that I am scared to death to be pregnant again, and the thought of another miscarriage takes my breath away. Honestly, though, the thought of never being a parent is as equally void of air…

So, while I’m being so honest I’ll share that my fragile heart is desperately clinging to any shred of hope, to anything that resembles distraction or happy news…

Lindsay