Living In The Tension
Most mornings, I wake up in a melancholy state. Another day farther away from the last time I carried my last baby. Another day closer to the due date of that baby, and consequently the due dates of close friends with whom I had hoped to walk through newborn days. Now their bellies continue to swell, and my baby remains the size she was when she left this earth - before we ever got to meet her. That baby is accompanied by eight siblings in Heaven, and I long for the day that I will meet them. Grieving for miscarried babies brings a unique heaviness that is hard to explain. There are no memories to relive, no stories to retell, no beautiful epitaph to read. It's the emptiness of what could have been, and what will never be. It's a semi-colon, with nothing to complete the sentence. Solomon's words express it well: Hope deferred makes the heart sick... But now I'm finding myself in this place of topsy turvy feelings. You see, I found out three weeks ago that I&#