I’ve found myself being weepier than usual lately. I always cry at most anything anyway, but lately I seem more watery-eyed than usual. Having a raging sinus infection doesn’t help. It’s getting better now, though the antibiotic I’m on has me feeling off. Feels like morning sickness. It isn’t, but it feels like it. Maybe after 10 days of not having any appetite at all I’ll actually lose some weight finally?
Anyway, I finally realized that what’s going on in my subconscious is that it’s almost September. That’s where the weepiness is coming from, I think. My due date was September 21. I don’t dwell on it, but it’s there in the back of my mind nonetheless. I know from experience that subsequent Septembers probably won’t be so poignant, but here we are.
I find myself in a strange place regarding this last miscarriage. I can’t honestly say that today, right now, I truly wish I were still pregnant. And I feel kind of sad to say that. The move and the settling in have been much easier than they would have been had things gone as we’d maybe not planned but hoped after the surprise. But it is sad to think about the baby we almost got to welcome home in the next few weeks. It’s sad to think about the three other babies who we also never got to welcome home or even meet. It’s sweet to think that in Heaven there are four people who worship Jesus there who we’ll meet one day and recognize as the children we only got to hold in our hearts.
So, I can’t say I’m terribly sad. I’m really happy with where we are at the moment. God has been especially good and kind to my family. He has brought us to a church home where we already feel we are part of the family, where we are encouraged and drawn in to worship Him in a real way each week. I have sensed such growth just since we’ve been here, and this is a gift from God, I know.
But if I’m a little weepier than usual in the next few weeks, please understand. I’m okay. Really and truly okay. But there’s a part of my heart that will always be a place of secret grief that holds a place for four little ones who left us before we even got to know them.