A few months ago, I wrote a post about marking the loss of a miscarriage and commented (naively) that it was probably the last post I would write about miscarriage. But this semester, I have spent all of my theology reading thinking about miscarriages. I made the comment in class one day that miscarriage is where I do my theology, and so I wrote both of my big papers about miscarriage.
I listened to a podcast recently about grief, and the person being interviewed, who had lost a spouse, said that we are never done with grief–that we are always working it and reworking it. I have found this to be true. In each miscarriage I have, the grief is familiar, but it is also new. Sometimes I think about miscarriage as one big general blob, and other times, I think of each individual loss. The memories I have of each loss are vivid, but then they are also like the collective darkness that comes with dementors (I read Harry Potter recently–lots of good metaphors of grief in that series).
So…I take it back. I will be blogging more about loss and grief and miscarriage because these experiences have completely changed my life. I am not a teacher anymore, but rather a seminary student. I am rethinking a lot of theology that I grew up with because it seems insufficient to me in the face of perpetual loss. Last week, I had a meeting about becoming ordained, and I laughed at the end of the meeting and said, “My life looks nothing like it did two years ago, and nothing like I thought it would. But I am hopeful for the first time in two years.”
My work in seminary is always working through the miscarriage filter whether I like it or not, just as I know my classmates are also working their theology through their own filters, and because of that, I feel like the only meaningful things I have to say are about miscarriage. I have wanted to post more regularly on the blog this semester, but everything good I have had to say has been met with the thought, “Well, I said I wasn’t going to talk about it anymore.” To not talk about grief is actually kind of stupid and unhealthy. I am learning this.
I feel, after many months of processing, that I can talk about miscarriage and about theology without having to make them mean anything to each other. And in talking about them this way, they do end up meaning something profound to each other. Just not in the way I expected (or feared).
So I just wanted to check in and let you know that my next few posts (who knows? maybe I will blog about this until I die) will be about miscarriage. I never thought growing up that I would say the word miscarriage so much, or say it so often in a blog post (13 times), but like I said, my life is completely different now. I am changed. Miscarriage.*