I was reading the October 2010 issue of Oprah's magazine and came across a short story called Mourning Has Broken. Summary on the main page: "In the weeks following his wife's miscarriage, Ian Wallach found himself adrift in a sea of floral arrangements and casseroles. A report on life after loss".
This story particularly struck me. This story brought tears to my eyes. This story perfectly framed the ups and downs, and ins and outs of infertility, miscarriage, and coping.
The last paragraph states, "In a parallel universe, I'm changing diapers and craving sleep, but in this one, the adoption process is under way, so somewhere there is, or is about to be, a child who will find his or her way to us, and we will all catch and protect each other. In due time, I'll rock back and forth, holding a swaddled child. In a whirlwind of joy, embarrassment, and hypocrisy, I may even shamelessly think that everything happens for a reason".
I have never miscarried (never been pregnant), so reading about the kaleidoscope of emotions, the hopes and failed hopes, the shock, the mourning period, and the new beginnings brought a new light to my eyes of just what someone who has gone through this sorrowful experience feels and endures. It taught me that sometimes the best thing to say is, "I don't know what to say. I love you. I'm here."
I love you women. You are all strong. You are all brave. You are all daughters of God, my sisters. And I am here for you. I am here to listen. I am here to give advice. I am here to learn from you. I am here to pray for you. I am here.