I've been recovering from a miscarriage over the last few days. I worried about a lot of things during the 10 weeks I was pregnant, but I never thought I would go through a miscarriage. It hasn't been easy. Of the many emotions that I've gone through--guilt, peace, disappointment, grief, gratitude--I can honestly say that anger and bitterness are not among them. I've tried very hard not to ask "Why?" but "What can I learn from this?" One thing about our "trial-by-fire" moments, there is no end to the lessons to be learned. I'm pretty invested in learning these lessons the first time around, because this is an experience I'd rather not repeat. Even so, I'm grateful for a Heavenly Father who loves me enough to give me experiences to stretch me, help me grow, and hopefully turn me into a more Christlike daughter.

I pray often for compassion as a doctor and just charity in general. I suppose I would have preferred to refine those traits by other methods, but I will certainly approach others differently who are going through difficult circumstances. Heavenly Father blessed me with some wonderful, compassionate doctors during one of the hardest days I've gone through. One ER doctor in particular came in several times to check on me, just to chat and see how I was doing rather than sending in a nurse. Another doctor sat down and the only thing he said was that things happen for a reason, but that it wasn't my fault, Mike's fault, or the baby's fault. It was just one of "those things." I've been trained to say those very words to families of patients. I've said them more times than I can count to parents of children with autism, Down syndrome, prematurity, cerebral palsy, etc. I never realized how comforting and reassuring those words are and how much you need to hear them in times like that. When I say it now, I can mean it even more.

The day after my D&C was a rough day. I woke up and before I could wipe the sleep away or stretch or anything, my throat constricted and my eyes filled with tears. I thought, "Oh no, this is a terrible way to start my day." I knew that if I allowed myself to wallow, the day would just go from bad to worse. A conversation I'd had with my mom earlier about gratitude came into my head. Maybe it sounds stupid and a little trite, I started a prayer of gratitude for everything I laid my eyes on. I started with the window, which was bringing in the daylight. I was grateful for the fan keeping us cool, because we don't have air conditioning. I was grateful for the ceiling because it meant I had a roof over my head. That went on for several minutes and then I looked at Mike sleeping next to me. My heart swelled with such gratitude for him--for his unfailing support, his quiet reassuring presence during a difficult couple of weeks, his worthiness to hold the priesthood, and his desires to do what is right and what is good for our family. There is so much more in my life that brings me joy rather than sorrow!

One of the best things to come out of this is to be able to feel the love of friends and family in ways that I never would have otherwise. Thank you so much to those who have emailed, called, and sent cards. I've also had some of the most wonderful conversations I've ever had with my parents and siblings as they called to offer their sympathy and support. They may not have known what to say, but the fact they called means more to me than they will ever, ever know.

Through trials, there is peace and comfort to be felt. There is happiness to be found. Overall, this feels more like a postponement in our lives rather than a loss. I hope that, if I've learned anything from the years and years and years of being single, it's to trust in the Lord's timetable and His plan for me.