When the dust settles

Exactly one month ago today, Scott and I suffered a miscarriage. I've gone back and forth about really going in depth and sharing this but I have realized something since this happened. We, as a society don't talk about this. It's as if we are suppose to be ashamed or feel "broken", and essentially pretend like this didn't happened. The more I talked about it to others and discussed what I went through and learned from it, the more I have heard some of the most tremendous stories from other women that have not only suffered like me, but have been through some of the worst experiences I have ever heard of. I'm sick of not talking about things with the fear of society deeming it 'inappropriate' or the fear of making my 'friends' uncomfortable. I was told at 17 that I couldn't mention that my sister was gay because of what people might think. I shouldn't talk about a miscarriage because it might make some people uncomfortable. My parents divorce couldn't be talked about because we wanted to 'keep face'. If my story can help 1 person find hope in this sick and twisted world than I have done something. Women, and men for that matter, need to know that they are not alone in any of this and they have people they can talk to.

Let it be known that, when a therapist tells you, a 26 year old, that you have 'earned your depression by the events in your life you have gone through', it's time for a wake up call...and I got one.

When you suffer something like this you do feel broken, and lost, and not knowing who to turn to or talk to. I have been blessed to turn to extremely strong women. For instance, a lady I had only worked with for 6 weeks who would do nothing but hug me and text me telling me how much she loves me. She suffered 4 miscarriages...1 of which happened in the 8th month. She now has 4 of the most beautiful children I have ever seen. A friend who I had only really spoken to a handful of times who was so eager to help me and show me all of the ways God had helped her. She suffered a miscarriage and actually had to pass the child and catch it in her own hands. She just welcomed her 1st beautiful baby boy. These are the stories that made me realize that I cannot give up hope. I cannot stop believing that better things will come and finally, that there are women out there walking around that have been literally, through hell, only to come out a better person and wanting to help others. 

I now wear a necklace that was the initial we wanted to use for our first born. And, yet again, I am reminded at just how crazy this world and God can be. H. H is what I wear. I bought it so I would have a constant reminder of how far I have come everyday. Now, H stands for something different. H- Him; God, that's all I really need to focus on right now and understand that he is showing me something. H-Home; Scott. Scott is my home, he has been my 'home' for 12 years, he is where I feel the safest and I know that as long as he is by my side, I will always be protected. H-Hope, without hope, there is no reason to continue on this crazy game of Life. And the hope of seeing my first child on 'the other side' when that day comes. H-Happiness, I make it a point each day to find happiness in something. 

I do not consider myself a good Christian, 4 weeks ago I would have told you that I was over organized religion. I'm a work in progress, and I have to take faith in something to know that in the end this crazy thing call life will be worth it. However, I do believe that this was God's way of getting my attention and telling me to go help others and ultimately, myself. I can honestly say I don't remember the last time I put myself as a priority. Times have changed and I see that through 'Impatient Dixie.'

{Amy}