Today I’m sitting here thinking. I’m thinking about my latest loss, I’m thinking about my infertility, and I’m thinking about how tired I am of all it. They are pretty morose thoughts. I mean, I would be over half baked right now with Baby Miracle. That’s a big deal.
Grief is a funny thing. You know how when your are tangled in the blankets? That is how grief is. It gets tangled in your life, the more you fight it, the more tangled up you are. Whether you have lost a pregnancy, have had failed cycle after failed cycle, or you lost a loved one; grief doesn’t discriminate. It takes hold of you with a fierceness of a mama bear protecting her cubs. It strangles you, suffocates you, and eventually drowns you. Then, when you think you can’t do it any longer, it loosens its grip. In those moments, you are free, weightless, lighter than you’ve been in a while. They are short-lived, however. There will be something to make it all come crashing back. Heavier than before.
Like the changing of the tide, it’s inevitable. You will always mourn what you lost. Days that never had significance before will have the power to bring you to your knees. Those are the days you pray to make it through. Those days that swallow you whole. Your heart cries out to anyone or anything that will listen. You wonder if it will always be like this, these days that hold such heartache. You look at yourself, take stock of how you are. You find that your heart, though broken, is slowly piecing back together. Your soul will always miss the piece that it lost, but it, too, is on the mend.
They say souls are the part of us that last forever. I wonder if that means the three pieces I lost will live on as well. I wonder if I will ever have a piece that lives in this life. The soul and the heart are complicated things. They hold our life, or love, all of our essence. They remind us what we are missing, but they also show us what it means to be strong.