What I remember most from my period of heartbreak, lo those many years ago, was that I would be fine for days, or even weeks, and then...something would trigger my memory in an especially vivid way, and WHAM - I would spend a day near tears. It was like a gut punch when it happened. In fact, there is a certain song that, to this day, when I hear it, it knocks the wind out for a second. This, despite knowing my life has taken such a better path than it would've if that relationship had worked out. Even though I love my husband and son more than I ever even knew I could love something - that song can bring me back to that night over a decade ago, just for a second. Memory is powerful.
That's kind of where I'm at today. I've spent the past two days (B has been out of the house) spending some 1:1 time with my pig sty of a home. As such, I've come across a couple things I'd tucked away in corners after the miscarriage - my binder of info from my OB's office, the Bella band I bought two days before I found out I wouldn't be needing it...stuff like that. And it makes me sad again.
It's very much like healing from heart break, really, in that just like back then, I know now that I'm ok. That this happened for a reason. That life will go on and be happy. That I will feel better again, just like I have started to. But just in that moment - WHAM. Sad.
I know that having my heart broken made me a better person. It made me stronger. It made me aware of what I wanted, and what I would not settle for...or at least, it started that process. And I know the same is true of this experience. It's making me stronger. It's making me a better wife and mother. I know it is. Personal growth aches, though, doesn't it?
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