A friend recently found out she was pregnant. I was honored to be able to share in her hopeful anticipation, as she was thrilled to be expecting.
This week however, that all came to a sad end, and she is suffering a miscarriage. Devastated to have been through this twice myself, her pain reaches the furthest depth of my soul. The loss is very real, and truly upsetting. She says she’s giving up- no more trying. Done. Fini.
The advice the doctor muttered to me several years ago, (apparently never having suffered a miscarriage of her own) was, “This will make you stronger. You’ll be much better for it. You’ll see.”
I dare not repeat such stupid words to a struggling friend.
I’ve never felt better for having suffered a miscarriage. I will never feel stronger for the loss. I will never say I am better for it.
Instead, “time” I encouraged my troubled friend. Time. And don’t lose hope.
Now, here he is. My buddy. My shadow. He’s a walking, talking, anthem for what started from barely a shred of hope.
Dare I say, be careful what you wish for,…but keep on wishing.
Don’t lose hope.
2, 3 4, years from now, you may be surprised.
You may find yourself contemplating the attributes of every little digger and dump truck this side of China.
You may be dealing with a little one who's sometimes really frustrated, and not sure how to handle big emotions in a small body.
So, in time, you may find yourself wiping up tears, and then picking up toys.
You just may be smiling at a toddler who makes your heart chuckle.
You may be wondering what you should make for lunch, because a tiny tummy is hungry...
Easier said than done, yet,
for the sake of what just might be, don’t lose hope.
Time will sort things out.