thief.

This week was emotional.  I had been nice and mellow for a while and this week was not mellow. :) I could cry at the drop of a hat over anything.  Honestly.  I dropped a hat and cried.  Okay, not really.  So not honestly.

It was only makeup that saved me from being a blubbering mess at the Thanksgiving dinner.  I'm really hesitant to write this part because of the effect it might have on people around me.  As in, on them being around me.

Tonight, I found out someone is pregnant.  I am good friends with this person so I was thrilled for them.  I really, truly, madly, deeply was.

I also wanted to cry though.
I've been good with announcements until this week.  This week, they have brought tears to my eyes.  It's one of the side effects of pregnancy loss. (While I don't believe I 'lost', this is the title people relate with the most.)   Thankfully, I had done some intense eye makeup and I could hold it together thinking "well, you don't want to be a runny mess, O dummy of Not Wearing Waterproof." Sounds shallow, I know, who would place vanity against mourning pain, but, sometimes you do what you have to do.

I remember being on the other side of it.  I remember not knowing how the news of my pregnancy would affect (or effect? I still don't understand the correct usage) my friends who had gone through miscarriage or infertility.  I wanted to share my joy and, at the same time, not add pain. It's such a tricky, tricky balance.

It seems so selfish too.  How dare my pain diminish your joy.  Please don't view it like that.

You see, it was the taking of joy that broke my heart over and over and over and over again through this.  One of my main thoughts at the beginning of miscarrying after thoughts of Somewhere were "how can I tell my mom? How can I take this from her?"  I felt like a joy thief.  I felt like I was ripping away something precious and beautiful.  I was a destroyer.

I know it wasn't me.  If I had a choice, I wouldn't.  That isn't how it feels though.

The thing that kills me the most, that cuts my heart to shreds is remembering the joy.
My mother's happy screams at the news, my grandfather musing on "having a baby around the house again," my sweet young friend who would talk to Fruit Loop every time she saw me, and had told her parents she was going to be an aunt. (She quickly had to clarify she wasn't saying one of her sisters were pregnant.)  All I could think sometimes was "I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm so, so sorry."

There isn't words for being the carrier of such a knife.

The happiness from others gets replaced with awkwardness, sadness and worst of all, fear.
I feel like a death omen. Like everything a pregnant woman wouldn't want to think about.  That is a hard thing, I mean my name literally means joy. So many people call me "Joyful" as a nickname.

And that is what I am.  My joy doesn't come only from happiness.  It is from contentment and peace in knowing my Savior. To be known.  I may be sad, but, my joy is not gone.  My youngest brother reminded me, when talking about how an artist had sign something to a fan, loosely quoting here: "Life [really] sucks right now. But John 10:10."

"the thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. i come that they may have life and have it adundantly." 

{john 10:10 esv}

I am a follower of the God whose goal is life and life abundant.  I cling to that.

Therefore, while I totally understand the awkwardness, please don't be afraid of your joy.  Don't block us out of the joy out of fear.  I may cry, but know, it will not be tears of pain alone. It will be tears of great rejoicing.  I don't want to be the taker of joy anymore.

I love your joy.