I guess I should heed my own advice. Understand something. If you know me at all you know that I don't go into anything half-heartedly. So going back to "normal" (whatever that is) would also be full throttle for me. Or so I had hoped. The thing is if I lead everyone to believe I'm okay then they will treat me that way. I didn't want everyone to be afraid of me. I didn't want to - once again - disappoint.
But honestly - who am I trying not to disappoint anyway?! Because the only three people who matter right now are God, my husband and my son. Oh, and me. I'm just being honest - I had convinced myself everything was fine. And most days (moments?) it is. I am. But not every moment. Not every time. Not every day.
I went back to work and did it with joy in my heart. I had spent some exceptional time in the Presence of The Lord, completely basking in His glory, relishing His Spirit and claiming the power He promises is mine. I felt it down to the marrow of my soul. I went through the day with that supernatural empowerment only to receive a phone call on my way home. It was the hospital calling to follow up after surgery and to also invite our family to a Walk to Remember where we can have Baby Wright's name called out and plant a tulip bulb in our baby's honor. Yep, you better believe I lost it. But it's okay that I did! In fact, it's healthy that I did. Whatever others may think or feel (or not feel) this is a death for us. There is grief and as I very well know, grief comes with stages. For a goal-oriented person like me, reaching the next "stage" in the grief process, doesn't mean I've earned my badge. It doesn't work that way. This is a process that rides much like a roller coaster. Just when you think you've reached a plateau, you find yourself climbing only to drop and twist and turn again.
Yesterday a nurse and mother and someone who has experienced miscarriage shared her experience with me. She also shared the knowledge from her doctor to "treat this as if you've given birth - they tell you to take 6 weeks to allow your body to readjust. You may even experience postpartum depression." What?! I'm not depressed. Six weeks? Physically I feel okay after the surgery. At least I physically feel healed. And no, this isn't like having a baby at all because I am left with empty arms. But for real - six weeks?! Certainly I, Carrie, don't need that much time. You want to know what happens when you try to play God? Okay, what happens when I try to play God and take control of my circumstance? Inevitably He reminds me that He does not require or need my help and it is up to me to surrender fully to Him. Okay, God. Maybe I do need more time. Maybe I'm not healed. Maybe things are still out of whack. Maybe I am still experiencing unexplainable things - physically and emotionally - that I have to still work through. How many more times do I have to hear it to let it officially soak in - to give myself permission?
I'm relieving myself of the added pressure (put solely there by my own doing) and declaring that it's okay to not be okay. Thank you for the many who have understood this even when I stubbornly have not. Thank you for still checking on me. Thank you for giving me the freedom to not be "me" all the time. Thank you for not expecting anything more than a broken version of myself that is still in healing. Thank you for reminding me that it's okay to not be okay.