So, it’s been a week since the miscarriage. David and I have spent most of that week hiding away at home, trying to process what happened. I thought I was doing well enough (aka able to think of my pregnant friends without crying, looking at other pregnant women without much grief) that I could return to work today with minimal issues.
I nearly forgot that grief has a process. As a nurse, I have been taught this process; Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. As of yesterday, I was surprised to think myself already at the Acceptance stage. After all, I had “passed” most of the phases. Denial occurred during the first 24 hours of receiving the news, I never felt angry at God or anyone else, I can’t remember ever thinking, “If I do X, then this wouldn’t have happened” etc, and I was no longer feeling too depressed when I saw a pregnant woman walking down the street. In my mind, I was at peace with the event.
Then, I went back to work. I had to revisit people who knew about my pregnancy, but not necessarily the miscarriage. I had to deal with people who were sympathetic, which almost immediately brought me to tears. I had to break the news to a few people. In short, I came home and cried. I felt numb and depressed all the way home. I was not my happy, energetic, bubbly self during my shift; I felt low and guarded, hiding away my precious grief lest someone trample on top and burst it open.
Then I remembered; Grief is a process. A loss such as a miscarriage does not usually last a week. As my sister told me, “There will be good days, and there will be bad days. Eventually, the good days will outnumber the bad ones.” This evening was a bad one. I’m sure it will not be the last. Until the good days come for good, I will continue to take each day as they come. May the Lord’s healing come swiftly.