ghost of [a moment]

[trigger warning: miscarriage]

[moment 225]

I've been feeling alone lately and I couldn't put my finger on why. It's as if the ghost of a feeling of deep sorrow and emptiness is haunting me. 

And then it dawned on me - it's August and nearly the anniversary of my twin miscarriage. I'm not sure I ever fully processed those losses, which took place days apart and in the chaos of raising and homeschooling five children and all that entails. It came at a time when my husband was working for a company that was none too understanding about taking time off when it wasn't your own medical emergency - and when we couldn't afford for him to take time off without pay. 

I do not know how I made it physically, mentally, or emotionally through that time. Much of it is a blur. What I do remember is having to relive it over and over as we made our way into the homeschool year and homeschool activities and people I hadn't seen in a while would ask about my pregnancy and I'd have to explain about the loss. And then explain that we wouldn't be having any more children due to the fact my husband had a vasectomy days before I miscarried. 

What I remember most was feeling helplessly alone. My husband had to continue to work and take care of his responsibilities. I had to take care of our five children and other people's children (which was really a blessing ... my kids having other kids to play with helped me to have the downtime I needed to allow my body to heal). During the day, I couldn't take the time to process my sorrow and at night I was too exhausted to feel anything except numb. 

That miscarriage was the beginning of the steep downward spiral of my health, which led to the loss of mobility, loss of ability to do things I love, and so much more. In August, the accumulation of losses comes into sharp focus. 

So in those empty feeling moments, I'm going to take the time to process and to grieve and to sit with the feelings that remind me just how precious and fragile life is.