Joy in the Dark



Day 1

When I began this journey seven months ago, I had no idea what God had in store for me and my family. I had no idea the amount of pain, sorrow, and loneliness I could feel from something so small exiting my life just as quickly as it entered. I can’t remember the exact date that I miscarried. Isn’t that awful? Sure, I could go look at my doctor’s office receipts, count back from Mother’s Day to the previous Monday, or check my saved text messages of support and outpouring of love. But who wants to remember the day that your life changes, the day that you realize bad things happen to good people, or that God’s great plan included my pain and suffering and a mountain that seemed so unsurmountable at the time that it took my breath away. No, I don’t want to remember the date. I want to remember the journey. I want to remember how I found joy in the dark. 

The joy of pregnancy. I’ve been there, I’ve done that. I remember saying, “Miranda, you’ve got this!” What’s a little nausea to a lifetime of giving my son a forever playmate, or finding more room in my already bursting heart for more love to shower on a little one? My husband and I had been trying for well over a year with no luck. Finally, with a little help from Femara, we began the exciting adventure. Throughout, my BETA levels were being checked, and with each needle prick the anxiety set in like an anchor thrown into the sea. And with each result, I was the anchor. Drowning. You see, I’m not a numbers person, but I know when numbers don’t double. Mine were not. My doctor was optimistic, especially after hearing a strong heartbeat at 6 weeks. So, with that the blood tests ceased, and all was well. 

Four weeks later, I began the usual morning routine, but that day was different. That day, we were going to get to see our little bean, we were going to start routine monthly visits, we were going to tell Mason he had a little brother or sister. To my surprise however, I began bleeding. I’d like to say the rest is history, even the miscarriage I suffered just a few months later during another turbulent holiday season, Thanksgiving. I wish I could say I’ve put both losses behind me, and that you can find the nasty, emotional details in my journal if you dare look. But, even after seven months and yet another loss, its still very current. It’s not my history- it never will be, its my journey. My journey to being honest with God about my hurt and anger, to finding my faith again, to peace, to forgiving myself for carrying so much guilt, and my journey to finding joy in the dark. 


It’s my hope that through the detailing of my journey, and blogs on how to cope with grief, ways to manage situations you will undoubtedly face in the days, months, and years ahead will be an encouragement and a light of hope.