I want to write, and dust off the ol’ blog, as it were, but there was so much grief and loss in the past year that I feel like I can’t dive into anything else until I give that the full attention it deserves. But I’ve tried to write a full post about it, and it’s just hard, and I don’t know how much to share.

But I need to share something about it, because it’s now a defining part of my life, my story. So here it is, in small and simple terms.

I’ve had two miscarriages in the past year. The first was over Thanksgiving of 2020, and the second was over Easter of 2021. That is not a joke. It truly happened over two of my favorite holidays. Thanks for that, Mother Nature. Our plans to add another baby to our lives have been upended and stopped in their tracks. It’s been confusing and hurtful and lonely. Nothing I had ever read or heard about miscarriage or infertility had prepared me for the guilt and loss I would feel.

So there it is. Why I haven’t been able to write. There is a big elephant in the room demanding attention, but I don’t want to give it anything more than it’s already taken from me. I’ve made peace with what happened, and where we are going now, but it’s still a hard thing to write and think about.

But now you know, and now I can hopefully start sharing other pieces of life over the past year or two, because although there has been pain, there has been joy, too. And beauty, and grace, and love. And for that, I am so grateful.