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Bless This Pain
Bless this pain, for it will bear its perfect gift to you in its perfect time. (Rusty Berkus)
I learned to ride a bike back in the dinosaur times, before knee pads and helmets. When I was seven, my parents (bless them!) bought me a bike with room to grow into. My dad would take me to the street in front of my house (it ran down a gentle slope, which I remember as more of a precipice), perch me up on my heavy bike, run with me for awhile, and then let go. Over and over, I fell.
Two More Words
“I’m sorry” implies empathy, and empathy is powerful.
I received a wide variety of responses when I told my friends about my miscarriages. They ran the gamut from “You wouldn’t have wanted a handicapped child,” and “It’s a good thing, actually. Mother Nature takes care of the ones who can’t survive,” through “Oh well, I hope you can be as brave as someone else I know,” to a friend who hugged me and wept and just said, “I love you so much!”
Between 2005 and 2008, I lost four tiny babies to miscarriage. In an effort to help others who may be experiencing similar losses, I want to share the story of that journey. If you click on the title above, and then follow the “Next in Miscarriage Journey” links at the bottom of each post, you can read through my story sequentially.