On time

I have wanted to post on here for weeks, but my shame and my weakness have kept me from doing so. I feel like I have set this incredibly high bar for my self, and if I fall short, then, I tell myself, no  one wants to hear about it. But I know that is not true, and I owe it to my self to be honest with all of you about my struggles, because, this is real life.

I have been struggling. A lot. There, I said it. A ton. Like more than I feel I ought to. More than I think is appropriate. Every day. With out fail. Struggle.

My anger towards God is so great. Greater than it has ever been. I refuse to talk to Him most days, yet, I know He's still there. When I do talk, angry, harsh, words come out. I yell at Him a lot. A lot. I feel as though He is all powerful, all knowing, and yet, He puts trials in every path I take.   Some times it's stupid little things, like a newborn sized Christmas dress hanging on the end of the aisle in Target. Other times it's big things like a baby girl being blessed today at church named Emma Jane. Other times it's a Christmas ornament that would have been prefect for Grayson. Other times it is bigger more personal things that really just feel like a slap in the face. If He is so big and so powerful, why doesn't He just change it for me? He knows I'm having a hard time, a really hard time, and yet, trial after trial, thing after thing, slap after slap. I know He is blessing us too, I know He is, but I cannot see through my anger and my tears enough to fully appreciate what He has given us.

I was talking with a friend who has also lost a baby, and she asked me how I was doing. I told her that I was having a difficult time coming up with something to be thankful for for Thanksgiving. All of the little thing we have, aside from my family and the gospel, I would give up in a heart beat to have my babies back. In a heart beat. It's difficult to be thankful for that when what you really want has been taken from you. Like I said, I'm angry.

Today is the first of December. In 21 days, exactly three weeks, I was supposed to be due with our baby girl. 21 days. How has time passed so quickly? I feel like it is slipping away from me. I keep hoping some how, some way, my baby girl will come to me. But as her due date approaches, I know, she's not. I will never in this life buy her a Christmas dress, or curl her hair or dance with her in the kitchen or cuddle with her on the couch or tell her not to fight with Bowen or the million other things I wanted to do. I planned on doing. None of them. All of those dreams and hopes I had for her, gone. I think that is one of the hardest parts about losing a baby, coming up with new dreams and hopes and plans, not only for your baby, who is now gone, but for yourself, for your family. Like, Shaun and I had this stupid idea to space our kids 2 years a part. And we had all these reasons and ideas behind it. And well, my kid's two. And no new baby. And if you would like to obsess over the math with me, you'd find out that this month would produce a kid exactly three years younger than Bowen. Now I have to come up with new reasons and ideas why three years is great! Why that's what I want for my family. Do you know how hard that is?  I keep telling myself we have to bring home a baby next time. We HAVE to. I never thought I'd live through losing a child. And yet, I've survived the unthinkable twice now. I cannot do it a third time. Cannot. I know friends who have lost nearly 10 babies! 10! Here I am with just two, and I feel shattered, broken.

I've been watching the movie Charly a lot lately. There's one scene in the movie where the wife, who is dying of cancer, finally confronts the husband.

Wife: what's all this?
Husband: it's your studio, I decided you could use it more than I could.
Wife: I never told you why I first fell in love with you did I?
Husband: you have a lifetime to show me.
Wife: no I don't.
Husband: knock it off.
Wife: who's going to use this thing once you finish it? The paints got a longer guarantee on it than I do.
Husband: you don't know that! We have lived good lives, we have been faithful, and God will keep his promises.
Wife: God, never promised us He would cure my cancer! He promised us we could be together forever, even after death. Dying is just a part of the deal. Sam, I am going to die.
Husband: we don't know that.
Wife: I knew it the night of the blessing. So did you.
Husband; why are you giving up?! You can't give up! He says he's a God of miracles? Well why not now? I've done my part!  All I want is one, lousy, little, miracle. Is it too much to ask?


Husband: I had always taken solace in god, that he was in control, but now, now things were so terribly wrong. Did I know him well enough to trust Him now? To trust Him with her?


The movie is great. Really. If you don't own it, you ought to buy it, or watch it on YouTube, if you don't mind Spanish subtitles. You will cry like a baby. You will, unless you don't have a heart at all. Bring tissue!

So there's some dialog in between the two pieces I decided to focus on, but I don't think it is important right now.  The first part I just love, because it helps me feel not so alone. I'm not the only one who gets mad at God. One little miracle, that was all we wanted. 

The second part, to be perfectly honest, I would guess my answers would be no. I didn't know Him well enough to to trust Him. Or maybe I did, but I just do not understand how this could be His will. How this could be the best thing for us, for our family. And if it's not His will, or the best thing for us, why didn't He stop it? Why didn't He change it? He is all powerful, all knowing, and yet.... I guess I lack enough faith for that. 

Like I said, I've been angry, really angry. 

Luckily I haven't had a single question about future kids in a while, Shaun on the other hand, has. Which I find interesting. 

I'm less than a month away from my due date. Three weeks. 21 days. I feel as though I am not looking forward to Christmas this year, but more that is it looming. It is hanging over my head, waiting to disappoint me, with what it won't be bringing, a baby girl. 

As you do your shopping this Christmas season, please, look for those who are hurting around you, I have been known to walk up to strangers who are sad or crying, and ask if I could help. If I could give a hug. There are so many others hurting, please, reach out to them, because I know I'm not the only one who will be walking through Target with tears rolling down my face. 

My therapist tells me, grief typically takes 6 months. 6 months of misery, 6 months before you feel less consumed again.  So as I wait for the time to pass, I will leave you with some quotes that have been on my mind. 


"Jesus, I wanted to sit my babies on my lap, and tell them all about you. As I can't now do that, will you sit them on your knee and tell them all about me?"

"And to think, when their little eyes opened, the first thing they saw was the face of Jesus."

"Your most profound and intimate experiences of worship will likely  be in your darkest days- when your heart is broken, when you feel abandoned, when your out of options, when the pain is great- and you turn to God alone" 

I know that is where my peace is, where my hope is, where my comfort is. But I am not yet at a place where I can suck up my pride enough and be willing to admit, that this pain, this awful awful crap we've had to go through is really for my benefit. I am not there. And I don't know when I am going to be there.