A Year of Healing and Waiting

One year ago I was looking for answers. 

One year ago I was in the middle of losing what we were so excited for. 

One year ago I had no idea what struggles and triumphs the next year would hold.

A lot can happen in one year and it's hard to believe it's already been that long since my world turned upside down, inside out, and all kinds of ways. But also seems like the slowest year of my life. As I started thinking about what to write for this blog post, I thought that focusing on the journey of a miscarriage should be the focus, I mean that's the significance of today right? One year post-miscarraige. But then I felt like that didn't give the whole picture of the journey of heartache that started a year ago. But then I felt lost, because how am I supposed to share all of the emotions I've felt due to our miscarriage over the last year, let alone the trauma of being diagnosed with cancer, losing an essential part of my body, making my body radioactive, and altering my lifestyle to be supportive of my new reality? It would be a whole novel, which I couldn't bring myself to write just now - maybe one day.

To be honest, I'm not super sure how to feel today. I've thought I should feel a deep sense of sorrow. Or maybe anger. Or happy that I've made it this far. Or frustrated. The truth is a feel a weird mixture of all of these and many more. Truthfully, I am extremely proud of myself for fighting through and surviving this year that kept knocking me down again, and again, and again. This year brought me to my knees in so many ways, sent me to the depths of a valley I would wish on no one, and made me face emotions and thoughts that I never thought I would have to walk through. 

In this year despite the disappointments, Dilan and I have grown closer and learned to support each other better than we ever have, I've learned more about emotions than I ever thought possible, and I've learned that the old coping strategies I had weren't healthy as worked through disappointment after disappointment. I've struggled to find the bright spots in a journey that seems like a never ending cycle of hurt. I've found myself working through the idea that my identity isn't found in my work ethic, my job, or even my ability to organize all the things. I've started realizing that rest isn't a privilege, but it's a necessity to be able to continue to function. My idea that I can control it all has been shattered beyond belief and I have been taught so much in the waiting. 

I find myself wondering if the grief would be as significant as it is if I would have only had either a miscarriage or the cancer, truth is I think it would be different, but difficult still the same. Grief is felt and expressed in so many ways and ironically so is hope. So today I hold my grief and hope close. I grieve the first that we weren't able to have this last year with Baby O. I grieve the innocence I have of the ease of pregnancy, especially now that I have other medical things that will make pregnancy more complicated than it already can be. I grieve that he or she will never be able to wear the Christmas onesie we bought last year, but I also have hope that one day we will have a child that will enjoy that onesie. 

I have hope that my medicine is a bit more regulated and hope that now that the thyroid issue is found that complications won't be as terrible. Most importantly I find hope that one day I will be able to look down at a smiling face and know just how lucky I am to hold that sweet child and cherish the firsts I'll have with them even more because I know just how quickly those memories can be taken away.