Today is the anniversary of our miscarriage. I'm not nearly as sad about it as I thought I would be. That could be because I've been chasing a toddler around most of the day. Or because, while he was sleeping, I was busying myself with my Scentsy business and cleaning the house as much as I could. Or it could just be that time really does heal all wounds.
That doesn't mean that I haven't been sad, or that I haven't thought about it. Exactly 2 years ago, the baby was gone, we were back home from the Urgent Care Center and I was debating drowning my sorrows or going into a self-induced coma.
Exactly 1 year ago, I was cuddling our 2 month old son, trying to stop crying. I know that part of that was postpartum hormones and crap, and part of it was real grieving.
This year, I've been more ok with what happened. More zen, if you will. If we hadn't lost that baby, we wouldn't have our amazing son. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I can't imagine my life without him. It also helps that I've spent the last month (off and on) working with one of my best friends to design a tattoo in tribute/remembrance of our lost baby. Hopefully we will be putting needle to skin very shortly.
Miscarriage breaks your whole being: mind, body, and soul. But, I've learned, if you can accept it, not forget but not dwell, then you can come out of it a stronger, more compassionate person.
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