The music also grabs me, the Welsh hymns in particular. This year we didn't have any, but whenever we bust out with "Cwm Rhondda" I think fondly of my Mam-gu who could play the piano by ear and was a real church-goer.
But recently I've been thinking about my lost pregnancy. I guess it started when I read my friend Jessica's extremely eloquent and poignant blog post about miscarriage. She addressed the feelings of loss and what-might-have-been so well. When I was going through that terrible experience, there were two things that helped me through it:
- Realizing that I wasn't alone - that other people that I know and love had also gone through it. They talked to me about it, and told me that the pain would, one day, lessen.
- Naming the pregnancy.
Being pregnant had already made me feel the presence of the divine - it's a miracle that babies get born, period! The miscarriage made me realize that I have faith in God [a minor miracle in itself]. And that life comes and goes. I'll always remember what might have been with little Veronica.