The below was written on April 5th, 2012 after my second miscarriage on a previous blogsite

As I am now almost {physically} recovered from my second miscarriage, I am now able to let my mind and heart process the weight of it all.

I do not know how to express in words what I feel. But I do know how to express some things I have been mulling over in my brain since we lost our first pregnancy in January. 

I have this tendency to not want to verbalize or talk about what is going on. But, this saddensme because it seems like the quietness of it all is what has been bothering me.

Lately, when I share my story with friends or family I am always met with the affirmation that someone related, or close to, or even friends or friends parents have experienced the same thing. 

Maybe not even a miscarriage. Maybe even the loss of an infant. 

Why is this not talked about among women? Why are we so scared to share this struggle of infertility or as my doctors say,"spontaneous abortion" to the community of women around us?

I understand that he pain is real. Oh, how real and heartbreaking it is. 

But it would be less heartbreaking and more hopeful if we had women who came beside us and shared their stories of loss, and their stories of redemption.

If we had sisters who walked beside us and told us that the pain of infertility or loss is real, and if they were able to share stories of doctors who helped them, or prayers that helped them connect with God again. 

One of the most painful things for me during these experiences is to have people tell me that it is not a big deal. Or that I should move on.

If we women were able to share our stories and talk about the physical and emotional pain that follows a miscarriage,  then others would know the effects a miscarriage can have on one's body and soul.

And if we were able to talk about and give voice to the loss, then we would also open ourselves up to a community around us that could celebrate the life that we held inside of our womb...even if only for a short time.   

I was told by my acupuncturist that eastern civilizations and eastern medicines allow time for grief. That when a women miscarries she is sent away to a safe place for a month for her body and soul to heal. 

These women are even expected to rest. They are expected to have sadness. And their whole community gathers around them and helps bear the weight of the struggle. 

What would it look like if our busy culture allowed time for this? What if we allowed time for grief (for any circumstance)? What if we allowed time for healing? I can only imagine how different things would be. 

I wear a charm on my necklace (pictured above). It is a flower with a ruby stone attached to it. My mother in law gave it to me after we lost our first pregnancy. She herself has experienced loss.  I wear it to remind me of the life that I carried with me. Of the hopes we had for the child. I wear it every day so I do not forget.

David wears his every day so he does not forget.

The company that makes these keepsakes and writes cards and has perfect poems is called La Belle Dame. 

I share them because I do not think that life needs to be forgotten. And even if you will not be able to carry your baby with you, you can carry a reminder of their life with you always. 

I say all of this to say that I will not be silent. I will listen, I will walk along side ofyou. I will celebrate. 

And I will pray, even when words do not come.