This week has led me to reflect on some of the unique trials and experiences I have had this last year. I found myself drawn very inward on the 13th. It was a special day to me, and also a very sad one. Many don't know this, but before I had my battle with a serious infection last year, I was pregnant. Just before we realized something was wrong, I miscarried. The 13th of March was my due date. As I ran around the park after my almost-two-year-old, I couldn't help but imagine the firm kicks of a baby in my belly. I found myself wondering again why things had to happen that way. I do think it was mercy, that we lost the baby before surgery. If we hadn't, then it would have been taken. Still, in my mother's heart I felt painfully aware that something had indeed gone missing.
Eventually, I began trying to retrieve myself from that painful place in my memories. You see, being a stay at home mom oftentimes leaves you feeling like a broken record. Here in my home, alone with my child and my thoughts, it is the most emotional memories, be they sad or happy, that resurface and keep me company during my daily activities.
While pondering that pain of loss, and also trying to grasp the joy of the present, I recalled a quote from October general conference, in which President Thomas S. Monson said something to the effect of, "trials and tribulations are universal". You see, we often forget that the cracks and crevaces of every life are filled with untold things; wounds, regrets, pain, unanswered questions, the list goes on. The point is, everyone has had to, or will need to, recover from something that is too personal, too painful, and too deep to fully describe or even understand. Having experienced severe physical pain, and all the emotional trauma that follows, I have learned something that I find quite profound.
You see, it is very easy for us to imagine that once severe physical pain and suffering has ended, that all the good feelings and emotions and abilities come rushing back in to fill up the aching and empty space that has been left void inside of us. But this is not how it goes. (Something I really didn't know before it happened to me). You see, once grief has carved a canyon inside of you, it becomes your job to go along behind it and fill up those jagged walls with something new and beautiful and healing. This is an arduous task that I personally have been dealing with for about 5 months straight now.
For example, not a day goes by that I don't remember being wheeled away from my loved ones, down a dimly lit hall, and then laid on a cold steel operating table with a dozen unfamiliar, masked faces looking down at me with such seriousness. I remember waking up in an unfamiliar place, filled with pain and feeling overwhelmed by the state I was in. The following weeks were filled in equal portions with bitter and sweet. And I couldn't help but cry out, "Why me?" I'm sure we have all experienced this at some point in our lives.
I cannot forget the terrible pain and fear and uncertainty that filled me for so long, both from pain of loss and pain of sickness. I still wonder, what was it all for? It is times like this, when the storm is passed and what remains are scars and memories, that I have begun to try and show more gratitude for my blessings. There are so very many. In this way, the painful things have gained a purpose; they help us recognize the good that most certainly exists. Am I grateful for pain? No, not really. (Don't judge! Achieving of perfection way in progress here). But I am grateful that pain and sickness and healing have run their course. Now I have the opportunity to rebuild those parts of myself that were broken and make them stronger and better than they were.
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