Finding the Light in the Darkness

Day 14 of the Capture the Grief project: DARK/LIGHT (acknowledging the dark and light sides of grief...)

"Today we are acknowledging the dark and the light sides of grief. The ugly and the beauty. The bitter and the sweet. The anger and the peace. You might want to write about the moments when everything falls apart or maybe the moments where our eyes are opened to the gifts that this journey has in store for us. Or maybe you just want to write about both."

This is a tough journey. I'm not completely in the dark side of grief right now as I have begun to heal, but I'm still not fully in the light side... or even close really. It's only been 17 weeks since the miscarriage (WOW, 17 weeks? Has it really been that long, and how is that possible?!). In the long grand scheme of things, that's really a blip on the radar, barely any time. Certainly not enough time to be out of the darkness.  I might be functioning and able to feel happiness now, but it's still a struggle everyday. I have really dark moments where it feels like my heart is falling apart all over again. It can be triggered by anything. Something someone says, the tone of another person's voice, a quote in a movie or TV show or song, a smell. It's hard to prepare when you don't realize when you will experience a trigger that feels so out-of-the-blue. I also have this intense fear about losing my daughter now. It's always been there a little as becoming a mother made me anxious in a way I never knew possible. I worry about my daughter's safety even if I know she is with people I can trust to take care of her and treat her right. This worry has gotten a worse since the miscarriage. I can't lose her too. The anxiety, the fears, are lessening over time as I funnel it into my desire to make sure our time together counts. That's the light of the grief. I have come to realize how lucky I am to have her. Yes, she was a challenging baby. High needs for the entire first year due to reflux, gastrointestinal struggles, respiratory concerns. It caused me stress, and more sleepless nights than not. Now I look back and realize it was all worth it and I would do it all over again in order to have my daughter. The miscarriage has made me more thankful about this. I cannot imagine my life without her. I appreciate all of our time together, our precious mommy-daughter time, our time as a family. I don't want to take for granted something that some cannot have or wait longer to receive. I hold her a little longer than before, hug her a little tighter, give her more kisses, and cuddle a little more often. Each day we have together is special. Even with this new found thankfulness and appreciation, the dark side of grief creeps in, robbing me of my hope, causing my sadness to overwhelm me. I have to remind myself to stay hopeful that one day this will all make sense and that angel baby will always be there with me no matter what. Until then, I will just have to follow Dori's advice in Finding Nemo... Just keep swimming.