Epiphany

It’s been six months since our miscarriage, and without question, it’s been some of the toughest, confusing, frustrating, painful six months of my life. I’ve never felt more emotionally raw and unstable. I beat myself up for being weepy, for not being in control of my emotions. Every day, my mood is different.

Come to find out, this is all very normal.

A couple days ago, I think I made some progress in at least figuring out how to classify my feelings, and how to treat them. I think I need to look at this event, this time in my life, the same way I see the sexual harassment I went through in Bangladesh. I will always have those scars; they are a part of me. I don’t let that rule my life; and I’ve gotten enough distance (and counselling) that what happened doesn’t control me. But those scars will always be there.

I just need to be patient with myself, and recognize that I won’t “get over” what happened six months ago. That will always be with me. The pain will probably diminish over time, but it will always be there. Another scar.

I’ve found a lot of comfort in Hannah’s story in 1 Samuel. I understand the crying, the yearning. And of course, the way her husband is depicted is beautiful: “Am I not worth more to you than 10 sons?” It’s so cool to see an intimate picture of a man loving his wife unconditionally. And the Bible talks about God as One who cares for women who want to have children but can’t. (Psalm 113:9, Isaiah 54:1).

One night last week, I drove to a nearby lake at sunset.

Driftwood is awesome. Within death, decay, and being beaten by the elements, there is beauty.

Indiana is pretty.