I have been out of sorts this week. We just got back from a long trip, the boys have been acting up, I miss our families, there has been a lot going on at work that needs attention— these are just some of the reasons I have voiced over the last week to justify to others (and myself) why I was feeling off. But honestly the sadness was deeper than any of that. Then tonight I figured it out. As I was putting Levi to bed, sitting in the darkness looking at his sweet little face in the dim light, it dawned on me… this week marks two months from our miscarriage.
That week, two months ago, was one of the saddest weeks of my life. I cried more in that week than I have in years. I doubted more in that week than perhaps my entire life. I felt more alone in that week than I ever have before.
But the thing is that I wasn’t alone… not at all. And that is the motivation behind this post—gratitude, appreciation, love.
The last two months have been full. Not just full as every Christmas season is full— full of celebrations and chaos. That has been there as well, but the last two months have been full of little moments of grace— and that grace has begun healing me.