It wasn't quite midnight. But confessions there were. The kind of confessions that make you avert your eyes to admit, even to your spouse of 9+ years. Vulnerable, honest confessions - of vain concern, solitary guilt, crushing fear.
Concern over what people are going to think if we get pregnant with M being out of work. (Crazy? Irresponsible? Insane?)
Guilt that the miscarriage was because of a lack of faith or too much worry. (Can I do this? Will I be a crap parent? How is this all going to work?)
Fear of how we're going to get through if we miscarry again. (Oh please, oh please not another miscarriage.)
It's a hard thing to find out about the guilt your spouse has carried over the miscarriage.
It's a hard thing to admit if there's a next time you might genuinely fall apart for the endurance of it.
It's a hard thing to acknowledge that a miscarriage just takes the fun out of the planning, the talking, the trying. It reminds me a lot of those cartoons where a storm cloud is drawn over a character and it follows them wherever they go. Yeah. Miscarriage is that storm cloud hanging over us as we head toward trying again.
It's a hard thing to step into the darkness and hope to find there's light to guide your way.
~Nichole
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