Grief is a funny thing. Sometimes it’s always with you. Sometimes you get a break. And sometimes after you think you’ve fully grieved and moved past a particular hurt, it all comes rushing back.
I thought the griefs of my miscarriage experiences were far behind me. I had my first miscarriage eleven years ago and my second one a year later. I went through the typical stages of grief and for the most part the sharpness of that pain is gone. It feels hard to believe in the moment that time will make the intensity of your grief fade, but I have experienced it. What at first felt like a stabbing pain turns into a dull ache and then may seem to vanish altogether for certain seasons.
I anticipated that the birth of my first biological son (after ten years of infertility) would be a healing experience. I thought that by being able to get pregnant, stay pregnant and give birth I would finally have beaten the feelings of loss that had been so painful through our miscarriage experiences.
I was wrong.
I remember when Joel was just a tiny thing—barely a month old. I was looking into his blue eyes that looked so much like mine when that stabbing pain came back into my heart. This little boy in my arms was so amazing. So beautiful and precious to me. I would walk through fire for him.
And there should have been two more just like him.
For years I had been grieving what I didn’t know—what it’s like to look into the face of a child who looks strangely familiar, the instant bond of a baby you carried, the simplicity of a child I didn’t have to share with any other parents or orphanage, or the state of Nebraska. I had grieved those things without truly understanding how beautiful it would be to not have to wrestle with infertility or the adoption machine. But now I knew. Now I was looking at the face of what I thought I would never experience and my grief felt so much deeper.
Two little ones as precious as Joel that I will never snuggle or rock or know on this side of heaven. I could hardly carry that grief. And it made me grieve again for the loss my adopted children have experienced in not growing up in the simplicity of a healthy birth environment. And the losses they’ve experienced by being separated from biological siblings.
I’ve felt that regrieving as I’ve walked through hard seasons in my marriage. Times can be smooth and beautiful, but then the wave of grief returns as I remember the struggles of the past. The happiness and connection we have now are a painful reminder of the times of loneliness before we knew how good it could be.
It’s easy to think of grief as a linear process or a series of stages that have to be completed. But grief and pain are just not as predictable as we’d like to think. Maybe it’s the times that we feel the most joy that the old grief comes creeping in. A glimpse of beauty reminds us of the ugly we’ve experienced. The laughter reminds us of the tears.
Feeling that pain in the midst of our happy times can make us feel like we’re taking a step backwards, but I think it’s just a sign that we are dealing with reality. The reality is that life can be hard. Grief comes in waves. We can hold in tension both the beauty of our lives and the cruelty of the world. We can accept the struggles of our past and have hope for our future. We can allow the grief we’ve experienced to not make us feel guilty for the happy times, but to add to our appreciation.
Are you grieving something today? Are you struggling with feelings you thought you were long past? It’s okay. It doesn’t mean you aren’t coping well, but can indicate that you are making peace with all aspects of your life—the beautiful and the hard.