We've obviously got a lot going at the moment, and sometimes I worry my brain is going to do what my lap top acts like it's going to do when it's working too hard: overheat and explode. But no matter how busy I am, for the rest of my life I will never forget the significance of August 30th, 2012. Two years ago tomorrow, we found out that our second baby no longer had a heartbeat.
As I was waiting for Wade to get home from out of town a few nights ago, I was watching a rerun of 19 Kids & Counting that I had never seen before. It was the episode where they found out that their 20th baby no longer had a heartbeat, and as I sat there watching the footage of Michelle sobbing in the ultrasound room, the emotions I felt in the moments and days following my own miscarriage all came flooding back. The look on the technician's face when she had to give us the awful news, the way I gripped Wade's hand as I lay there crying, how cruel it felt for the sun to be shining when we walked out of the doctor's office, the tears that covered every inch of my pillow, the songs that helped me through those first terrible days - I will never forget any of it.
Before that day, a miscarriage was just something sad that happened to other people. Certainly nothing I ever wanted to go through, but I had no idea just how heartbreaking it would be if I ever did. I was so sad afterwards that I often wondered if there was something wrong with me. How could I be so torn apart over a little person that I never even got to meet? Simple: that little person was a part of me, we had dreams and hopes for him or her, and for a fleeting time, that baby's heart was beating inside of me. That was our baby, and it hurt that there was nothing we could have done to save him or her.
Today, two years later, I am thankful to be on the other side of that pain. I am thankful for the 8 short weeks I had with that baby. And I am thankful that when I leave this earth, I have the hope that our sweet baby will be waiting to greet me on the other side.