So, about a week after I miscarried, we decided to plant a rose bush in the front yard as a little memorial to the precious life we lost. I had been told by a few people who have been through the same thing that writing a letter to the baby helped them get through the grieving process as well. I couldn't bring myself to do write that letter, because it felt so final. I wasn't ready to say goodbye and move on. Another week went by, and the little rose bush didn't look so great. I was really scared that it was going to die, and the cruel irony of that was not lost on me. Last Wednesday, exactly two weeks after the miscarriage, while Ivan was out and the kids were asleep, I decided it was time to write the letter. I sat at my laptop sobbing, telling the baby how much we wanted and loved it, and how I couldn't wait to hold it in heaven. A full page of bottled up emotions that no one who saw me day-to-day knew I was feeling came pouring out into that letter. I folded up my laptop and went to sleep. The next morning, I woke up to take Malia to preschool, and glanced at my poor little rose bush, and to my surprise, it was green and beautiful, with a fully bloomed rose and a tiny little bud. I felt such peace instantly, as if God was letting me know that my precious baby was with Him, and that He was watching over all of us. I am so grateful for miracles big and small, and for a God who takes the time to speak peace to someone like me in the midst of my grieving. He is so gracious!
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