Yesterday on our morning walk we ran into a neighbor. She has a son about Will's age and is expecting their second child in the fall. I was genuinely glad to run into her. We walked together for a while and I sincerely enjoyed chatting with her. I didn't think about it much while I was with her, but as I closed the door to my house a long sigh and tear filled eyes betrayed my subconscious. Walking beside her was like walking beside myself as I would be if we hadn't miscarried: carrying the weight of my growing babe and pushing my toddler occupied stroller. That was the way I imagined I would look in the summer. Summer. I suddenly realized it was June.
It is June and I am stuck in April. My belly didn't grow and my mind can't seem to get past it. I delivered a sac and placenta fully in tact. I watched life leave my body with my own eyes. I know its over. I should be moving forward. I made a list of all the ways to do it. But I feel stuck.
Recently I feel like everyone around me is preparing for something or moving towards something. Gender reveals, fast approaching due dates, adoption trainings, and pregnancy announcements are everywhere. And I don't exaggerate at all when I say I am thrilled to learn of all of them. I am thrilled for my friends who have waited so patiently as they embrace God's plan for their families. But in some strange way it feels like I'm getting lapped. Like I'm behind somehow. Like everyone else's planes are taking off and mine is stuck on the tarmac. Time is moving on for everyone else and standing still for me. It's June and I'm stuck in April.
A few days ago I talked about this with a friend who miscarried about a week after I did. We both lamented feeling sort of lazy and unmotivated. It's difficult to accomplish anything, as if we think "I'll take care of this when ______" ... but there's nothing to fill the blank. But I'm not depressed. Lately our family days are filled with laughter as our 16 month old's playful personality shines through more and more. David and I are enjoying each other perhaps more than ever before. But I just always feel as if something is missing. It's like there's some sort of subconscious lingering hope that makes me think that maybe if I don't move, my pregnancy can catch back up. If I just stand still long enough then it will come untrue. What's ahead is unknown. There could be greater pain and I don't feel ready. How do I feel ready?
The truth is, I don't even know what it looks like to move forward. But I do know that as much as I feel like it, I'm not being lapped. I am exactly where God wants me to be, in the formation of my family and the stage of my grief. For everything there is a season. And as much as I dislike it, this is just a season of waiting. Like that of the psalmist, my impatient soul wants to run up ahead and leave this awkward, sad, and confusing chapter behind. But I know that there is purpose here.
I may not yet be able to find the way forward, but I know my way to the throne of Grace. The spirit beckons me by way of this affliction and my feelings of powerlessness to rest in the lap of God's sovereign care. And it may be that I run to him more quickly for the very affliction that has caused me to feel as if I've fallen behind. God forbid that concern for the course of my life or family should supplant my concern for himself. I pray that he would supply the endurance to walk the path he has prepared for me, at the pace he has ordained, and that his presence would be more of a prize than anything I would hope to find ahead.