In the last three days, no less than three friends have sat and listened to me as I poured out my heart and, in one case, an ocean of tears. Even when the thoughts were ugly and bitter and jealous, they listened without passing judgement or giving advice. I can't tell you how rare it is in this isolating grief to have a friend who can just hear you and be with you, even if they haven't experienced a similar pain. What an incredible gift! It really helped lighten my load. I felt today like I could breathe for the first time in two weeks. Like I might just be okay.
"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh with the morning."
This afternoon, after tea with one of the sets of Listening Ears, I was very surprised to feel something like hope peeking around the gray cloud over me. It is tiny, and it is delicate, but it seems that what I thought was dead and buried is actually still hanging on. This hope whispers that I may yet bring home a baby. I may yet get to watch my little one grow. I may yet fill these desperate, aching arms. I am holding onto this shred of light. I am going to need it to grow in the coming months so that when we find the courage to try again, I have something to cling to.
Today, I choose hope. I choose joy. I choose LIFE.