Three years ago this weekend, I experienced my third miscarriage. Due sometime around my birthday, this baby was a surprise blessing that left us too soon. I remember being numb from it all just thinking that perhaps this couldn’t possibly be happening a third time. After all, I had Charlie – living proof that I COULD get pregnant and bear a baby to term. Less than two months later, our dreams came true once again when we became pregnant with Jack and well, he just turned two in January.
Seven years ago, a dear friend began her journey to start a family. Our paths crossed on Mother’s Day right after Charlie was born and we became fast friends for our similar stories. I encouraged her year after year to continue to persevere, but even I began to question why she wasn’t having the child she so desperately wanted. Three miscarriages, seven years, fertility treatments, and finally just taking a break, her precious miracle finally decided to appear. And this weekend, just three years after my own loss, I was able to celebrate the beautiful life that she will finally be given. She was glowing and the guests and gifts were overflowing. My heart was full. For her. My loss seemed like such a distant memory and I was so thrilled to be able to replace such sorrow with such joy. Now we await her precious gift at the end of April – a sweet dream deferred.