I never intend to wait so long to publish blog posts. I never really stop writing. I have a journal that I’m pretty good at keeping up with. However, sharing my life with the world is still difficult.

With that said, it’s been over a year (November 2021) since I got vulnerable and shared the details of my ectopic pregnancy (March 2021) with you. I said I’d reveal the silver linings I found in my grief process. I started making notes about them, and then, it happened…

I got pregnant in February 2022. And before I knew it… I had my second miscarriage. It was earth shattering. My rainbow baby, my gift from God, my dream, was ripped away from me. Why?

And so I grieved… more… and then…

I got pregnant… again… and lost the baby… again… my third miscarriage. Why? Why me?

And so I grieved… more… and more… and more… and more…

And I felt all the feelings. And experienced all the emotions. I cried. I screamed. I melted down in the shower. I raged. I sobbed on my bathroom floor. I went to my recovery support group meetings online and in person and spilled my grief to rooms and zooms full of strangers.

I vented to my husband, and puppy, and therapist, and loved ones, and journal.

And it was good. And necessary.

But I was still empty. Just existing.

I was truly convinced I’d never experience joy again.

I walked around numb, playing this role of wife and friend and coach and bonus mom and sister and student and daughter and neighbor and teacher and homemaker… I did it all. But I was numb.

Grief is weird. For me, there was a constant underlying sadness, emptiness, and longing. And on top of that, I would go through occasional bouts of anxiety, depression, anger, confusion, and so on. I would also have moments of happiness and contentment. There was no rhyme or reason as to how these thoughts, feelings, and emotions would come on. They just did. And they cycled. Repeatedly.

But the best thing I did for myself was not resist what came my way. I experienced it all. Repressing nothing. I would filter my expression, however, because it wouldn’t be politically correct to tell the random lady complaining in the grocery checkout line, “Well, at least you don’t have three dead babies.” But I would release those thoughts and feelings afterwards. I found safe people and safe ways to let go of the grief bubbling inside.

Sometimes, I found acceptance. But other times I hated everyone and everything and had no desire to participate in life.

Sometimes, I was at peace with God’s plan and His timing, but other times, I was completely unsatisfied and pissed.

But there was something odd about this whole grieving thing…. through it all, I had serenity. I had this sense of ease and comfort in the midst of the chaos of grief. I think it’s because I just leaned in. I rested in grief. I didn’t deny it or try to power through it with work or prayer or exercise or shopping or cleaning or sleeping or eating or watching tv or reading books or whatever. Don’t get me wrong, those can be useful tools, but for me, I tend to go overboard and let those tools lead me straight into self sabotage by ignoring the very thing I need to face… pain.

I’ve experienced a lot of pain in my life. If there’s one thing life has taught me, it gets better. Pain is not just meaningless suffering. If nothing else, I can use my experience to help other people in the future. That’s what I held on to.

Although I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel… although I completely lost myself… although the grief was all consuming and powerful at times… although I truly questioned whether I’d ever experience joy again… I knew…. I knew that even if I never experienced joy again…. one day… there’d be another woman going through the same hell, and I’d be able to tell her you’re not alone… and that was enough for me…

In time, I figured there might be a good chance God would reveal the true blessing in disguise of the recurrent miscarriage burden, but it wasn’t my business to figure out.

And that’s where I found serenity. I thought: for now, it is what it is, and one day, I’ll be able to tell another woman, “me too.”

That was enough. And I held on, and kept going through the motions of life… I had no expectations. I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing. And I was walking around aimlessly. But…

I kept walking. I kept moving. I never stopped.

As far as the silver linings go, yeah… I found some… And in the beginning, I had to mine for them. But, they were there. Lots of them. And this whole mining for silver linings thing took me on a journey of self worth and discovery, and remarkable things happened.

I’ll tell you about the journey some day, but for now…

Until next time…

Hugs and love ❤

Chelsea

02.26.23