Recently, some friends of mine lost the joy they carried in their wombs. And it made me remember.

After my miscarriage and subsequent D&C, I felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a mistake, that the surgery never happened, and maybe, I was still pregnant. I did OK until my first period - that is when I knew it was forever gone. I lost myself in babies. Babies were my solace. But women, women with their beautiful round bodies, I shunned. I wanted nothing to do with pregnancies or baby showers. I broke off friendships. Until their babies were born. Then I elbowed my way back in and cried while I held them. My biggest mistake was that I didn't tell anyone outside my family, so no one knew. No one knew what to do with my erratic behavior, my bursting out in tears when their children cried, my refusal to speak to them.

I was so, so angry, and that anger led to a depression that kept me locked in my room when I wasn't at work. I thought I could lose myself at work, but I couldn't. My loudmouth boss had blabbed to half our patients that I was pregnant, so when I came back after the 2 days I took off for the D&C, I had to answer their questions of "are you excited? When are you due? Are you feeling sick yet?" with "actually, I had a miscarriage". I remember one lady whom I had never gotten along with coming in about a month after and saying "I heard you're pregnant". I said "No, I'm not". "Well what happened? Did you have an abortion?" "No, I had a miscarriage". "Oh, well I just found out I'm pregnant, I'm due in October". I refused to see or speak to her again. When she was scheduled to come in I would go sit in the PT room until she was gone.

That anger, that all-encompassing anger, was something so powerful, so seductive, and so, so damaging.

One day my mom asked me "What are you so scared of?" Scared? I thought. Almost yelling "I'm not scared. I'm mad, mad at all those women who have unwanted babies and abandon them. Mad at all the people who think they know what I'm feeling. Mad at God for taking this child away from me. What if I can't have children?" Oh.

A few days later, John came to me with a scripture - 2 Timothy 1:7 - "For God hath not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind". I began to think.

Easter Sunday came and I went to church with my parents. My Dad gave a talk about the Atonement. The focus of his talk was not on the repentance/forgiveness aspect. He spoke of how in the Garden of Gethsemane, Christ did not only feel the pains of our sins, the pains of our hearts, minds, and bodies. How the purpose of the Atonement was that no matter our experience, no matter our trial, no matter our fear or pain, that there would always be someone who knew. There would always be someone who understood exactly what I was going through, exactly what I felt, and because of that knew exactly what I needed to heal. Thus began my healing, my realization that my Father in Heaven, who wept alongside me, did not cause this pain, did not cause this anger. He merely allowed nature to take it's course, then stood by and waited for me to seek, to ask for the help of my brother, the love of my Saviour, to carry me through this time until I could stand on my own again.

I realized that there were some things that I couldn't deal with on my own, so I contacted LDS Family Services and met with a counselor who helped me deal with the self-esteem issues that I had been carrying for so many years that after the miscarriage were just too heavy. I began to speak out, to tell people, 6 months after the fact, of my loss. The day I stood up in Relief Society and told my Sisters of my experience, I had one after the other come up to me and say "I know." I know, and I love you."

About a year after my loss, my dear friend experienced the same. She asked me to come to her appt, needing support for the news the knew would come. When the doctor told her she had lost the baby, I wept. But it wasn't for myself, it was for her. Because I knew.

Remembering is painful at times, and sometimes I cry. My mother, who experienced 3 such losses told me she is still sad at times, all these years later. That I will always remember. The piece of my heart that broke that day will heal, but will be taken up with love for my lost one. Will I be able to meet this spirit again? I don't know. Maybe the few days of a beating heart weren't enough to meet the requirement of obtaining a body. Maybe that spirit got back in line and blessed the life of another mother. Maybe it's waiting for me to come and raise it. Either way, I hope I do get to meet that spirit one day, so I can thank them for the sacrifice they experienced in order to give me my experience.

And I hope that experience can give me the strength to stand by my Sisters and say "I know. I know, and I love you". Because I do.