This morning, I had a moment.
Like most moments in my life, it wasn't a big fanfare, or some kind of celebration, but rather a quiet realization - an everyday kind of moment, if you will.
I came downstairs and opened the blinds to our back doors. The sunlight greeted me, and as I leaned down to smell the hydrangea on the table, I was filled with such a sense of peace. I grabbed my camera to see if I could try and capture this scene, and as I was snapping photos, my eyes started to blur.
I put down the camera and let those tears spill over. For the first time since my pregnancy, I was at peace.
I sat at the table, staring at these flowers, letting myself remember. Remembering my pregnancy, remembering it ending, and remembering the all-consuming grief that followed it.
I don't know that you ever "get over" having a miscarriage. Just when you think you're doing better, something unexpected triggers you and you feel like you're back at square one.
But for the first time since we lost Cece, I felt peace.
Maybe it's because we're finally in a place that we love and can be open to change, or maybe it's because I did the work and let myself grieve.
But this moment, this tiny little moment, almost overwhelmed me. There were so many occasions this year where I couldn't imagine what later would look like, and today, I'm here.
I will always carry her with me. Moving on doesn't mean forgetting.
But my heart is filled with peace. And I couldn't be happier about it.