Six years ago, I was in New Orleans for the Color Run.

I went with a group of coworkers and friends, and some spouses attended, including mine.

The run was fun, joyous, and a great celebration of fun and friendship.

New Orleans was awesome as always – great food, great times, great people.

It was a good memory to file away.

Or so I thought.

On April 3 of that year, I had a miscarriage. My only lost child – and it was devastating. It was an unexpected blessing, followed too soon by a crushing loss.

The weekend after I lost the baby on Tuesday through Wednesday, I had a 10k scheduled to run. I debated on whether or not to do it.

It became of symbol of life for me – a way to work through the pain. I cried as I ran, but it was cathartic. I ran past the site my miscarriage had started to make itself known – and I cried some more. It was a healing run.

Coming back to work, there was no sympathy from the women’s health staff I worked with. Just one dear friend acknowledged my loss with a heartfelt card – I still cherish her, and her thoughtfulness.

In a show of how horribly catty women can be, there were so called “friends” who had gone with me to New Orleans that conspired with a boss who was out to get me. They doubted my loss – not only not offering comfort, but accusing me of using it to get off work.

Their twisted line of thought was if I could run a 10k so soon, I couldn’t have been pregnant.

I had to defend myself when I was at a weak emotional place – defend my loss to women who worked with women, who took care of them after their pregnancy losses.

Everyone grieves differently. Even though I had helped countless women through pregnancy loss over the years, I had never questioned them. I comforted them. I pointed them to help. I listened. I cried with them.

As this years memories came floating across my timeline, pictures of that weekend in New Orleans came up.

No joy was found – only bitterness.

I cut ties with the so called friends who had come after me when I was most vulnerable – I saw, in writing, what they had said about me. I had it cleared from my record at work as I had to prove I had lost my pregnancy.

After an extended period of persecution from that boss, she was removed, and I was totally cleared of all the accusations. I knew I would be, and I learned a lot in that season.

I see now I have more forgiving to do. What I had packed away was torn open today.

Maybe I’ll go on a run. It helped me six years ago. This time, the run will be for forgiveness.