We Danced…

We danced. This morning. Between the laundry and the breakfast making. We danced. 

The boys had a night at grandma and grandpas and we were in bed by 10. It’s been a week. Or two. 

I’ve been so lucky. I am not sugar coating the process of miscarriage. That part is unfortunate but the way that the process has gone for me has made me feel lucky. And I know that every single person deals very differently.

I returned to work on Monday. I’ve never been more thankful for work {more on work later…}. If it were simply business as usual… if I were staying home every single day right now, perhaps I’d be more sad. If the ultrasound had shown an actual fetal pole, perhaps I’d be more sad. If I didn’t have a strong, supportive husband who would move mountains for me, maybe I’d feel more sad. If I didn’t have two little boys that I already love, adore and can hold in my arms, perhaps I’d be more sad. But I’m just not sad. I was. When I saw the initial ultrasound, I was. But now I’m not. I do feel a little quieter and a little more reflective but my heart doesn’t feel heavy. And I don’t feel mad. And sometimes I feel guilty about that. 

But mostly, as I stated previously, I feel grateful. I am thankful that we had a heads up before the pregnancy began to deteriorate in front of my eyes. Because I can tell you, now that I am on this side, that it would have been jarring. As it was, it was a bit jarring…I can’t possibly imagine having no idea it was coming. And it was painful but the pain was manageable. And I am thankful for that. And I do feel thankful for my husband and my boys. And my family. And my friends. And my faith. And this, coming from someone who generally loathes the idea of perspective. 

I had no perspective when my babies screamed for months on end. None. And none while changing my diet for 14 months. And absolutely none when Jonah recently had a day complete with blacking out and a concussion {more on that later, too…}. I guess I just often struggle with the idea that we should not process what we’re feeling because it’s not the worst thing anyone has ever gone through. But for some reason, now, perspective is my friend. And my mom is probably so proud {right, mom?}.  

So we danced. For me, it was some semblance of closure. Not of forgetting. But of closure. The song, that we danced to at our wedding, the song that I cut a track of in a studio in Lincoln as a wedding gift for my soon to be husband, the song that still makes my eyes feel full and my heart feel fuller, that song came on. And my husband walked over to me and pulled me tight to him and we danced. Much different, with the washer and dryer whirling in the background and toys on the floor and sticky stuff on the kitchen table. But much the same. The feeling that only the two of us can feel is still just where it was. Just where it’s always been. And we danced.

The song played and pictures flashed through my mind. Pictures of our honeymoon, holidays with family, the announcement of babies 1, 2, and 3. The births of the boys we now hold in our arms and the loss of the pregnancy we now hold in our hearts. Pictures of the life that we have formed together. 

And just like we did before we compiled that album of mental pictures, we danced. And it was as if all was right. 

And when the song was over, we hugged. And I went back to the laundry. And he went back to breakfast. Because this is so much more than a fairytale. It’s a life that we’ve made together. And together, is how we will survive all of the joys and the challenges. And through it all, we will dance.