It's been 2 years.
2 years since that first day of hurt.
2 years since the sadness began.
The sadness that doesn't quite go away.
I was surprised at how much I was dreading this day.
I don't know why I thought it wouldn't be a big deal.
It clearly is.
But in the past week or 2, I'd find myself startled by grief.
Grief that seemed out of place.
After all, it's been 2 years.
And we have Davy now.
That's when this whole tangle of emotions begins to twist inside me.
When I was first pregnant with David, a few well meaning people said to me, "see, now you'll have this one. It will help so much. Imagine, without the miscarriage, you wouldn't have this baby."
They were right.
I wouldn't give up my Davy for the world.
But does that mean I have to be glad, or thankful, for losing the baby before him?
I know that isn't what they meant.
But no matter which way I look at it, it doesn't make sense.
Loss doesn't make sense.
It just hurts.
There is no explaining it, no figuring it out.
It stings and burns and you don't have to find the good in it.
I am allowed to say I am glad for Davy, but also that I am so, so sad that I never knew that other baby.
I won't ever be able to explain how I can be in the sunlight and the shadows at once, but sometimes I am.
The thing about my miscarriage is that it was also the start down a dark road for Aaron and I.
Or maybe we'd been headed down that road already but we hadn't acknowledged it yet.
I can't help but look back on that time with some deep, deep aching in my heart.
I can't help but think of that loss, too.
Those days seem like a life time ago.
Much of that darkness has been lifted.
With hard work, many tears and infinite amounts of grace, God has redeemed us.
Through it all, I have fallen more in love with my husband than ever before.
But more importantly, I have fallen more in love with Jesus.
I cannot say yet, that I would have chosen these trials.
What I can say is that I am grateful for the opportunity to offer that comfort I received to someone else.
I could choose anger and bitterness.
Or I can choose to let Him consume my dross.
I can choose to let Him refine me.