I can’t believe it’s been 4 years…4 years ago today, it was grey and drizzling, but I didn’t mind. My precious boys were eating breakfast together, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I was pregnant again…at last! But my joy was short-lived. 4 years ago today I spent 8 hours alone waiting in the E.R. for confirmation of what I already knew – I was having a miscarriage. There was no drama, like on TV, but a long, slow process, one that meant I continued to hope, even as a longed for an end so I could grieve. I wasn’t just losing a baby, I was also losing a dream.
Romans 5:2-5 says: “…And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us”. During the weeks that I waited, the line “and hope does not disappoint us” kept running through my mind. It was God’s message to me – not the part about character or perseverance (at least not this time), but the part about hope. It’s been so hard to surrender my hope for another baby, and the life that I had long imagined. I have grieved for my baby, Hope, and my lost dreams; I think a little part of me always will. But I believe God does not allow surrendered hearts to continue to long for things He will not ultimately grant in one way or another. I lost Hope, but I haven’t lost hope…I am choosing to believe that God has a different adventure for me, a better one than even the perfect adventure I imagined.
I found this poem, rather accidentally and wanted to share it in case there was someone else who needed it more. My experience, sadly, is not unique. I cannot say I wouldn’t change the outcome if I could (at least not whole-heartedly just yet), but my heart and my feet are beginning to hurt less, and I am ready and excited for my different adventure.
I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.