Due Date

February 5th was my due date.  I was caught unaware by the tidal wave of grief, guilt, loneliness, and sadness that engulfed me.  It's been 18 months since we found out that our baby had already gone to Heaven to be with the Lord.  In those months I have found healing that could have only come from God.  Most days I am ok.  But knowing that we were so close to what would have been our first-born's birthday hit me much harder than I expected.

My cousin went into labor on the 5th.  Her whole pregnancy I had prayed that she would have her sweet baby any day but that day.  I hated hearing the regular reminders of when her baby was due- for the past eight months it's kicked me every time.  When I found out her water had broken I was beyond depressed.  I found myself thinking the kind of nonsense thoughts that appear in the mind when emotion rules over logic.  I was happy for my cousin, but the unfairness of the situation sent me over the edge.  My poor cousin had a rough birth story, and her baby wasn't actually born until the 6th.  A selfish part of me was overjoyed.

I think February 5th will always be hard for me.  And I think that's ok.  It is ok to set aside a day and mourn for what never was.  I am giving myself permission to cry, to scream, to sit, to shake, whatever it is that helps me emote how I feel.  I am honored to have held my baby in my belly for 12 weeks.  She was a part of me, a part of Lee, a part of us.  She'll always be a special part of our lives, and I thank God that we had her for the time that we did.

Grief doesn't follow a timeline.  In fact, grief knows no time.  But my God is bigger than my grief.  He holds me in my sadness and wipes away my tears.  He reminds me that my precious child is already in Heaven with Him.  How beautiful!

Thank you for letting me speak of my darling baby.  Thank you for letting me remember her today.

Numbers

There are some numbers that have been chasing each other around in my head the last few days.  I have been sick with what I thought was strep (the nurse practioner at a local urgent care deemed it an upper respiratory infection), so perhaps the physical drama wore me down enough to give room for the emotional drama.  I am in a funky place of being somewhat depressed and not being able to solve it with a run or a good book.

Numbers:

38- days until my husband will be home again
19- weeks since he has been gone
363- days since the ultrasound revealing my baby had died
13- weeks pregnant when we lost our baby Nora
12- hours until my sister gets on a plane for Africa for two years
141.5- the number on the scale today (the highest it has ever been)
124- the number on the scale at this time last year
3- the amount of miles I can run without stopping
6- the amount of miles I should be able to run without stopping as per my training schedule
16- hours I slept yesterday when feeling so sick
3:30- the time I fell asleep this morning

Most of the numbers listed above are fairly depressing.  I have had some sad things on my heart lately, and it can be hard to shake them off.  I am really dreading the one year anniversary of my miscarriage.  I am still journeying towards acceptance and peace, knowing that I will get there someday.  And having my sweet husband far away makes the anniversary of losing our sweet baby much sharper.  My husband is such a comfort to me, always leading me to the LORD and reminding me of His promises.  I will always miss my baby, but I am so aware that she is in heaven already and that God has a plan for my life that will bring Him glory.  Lee and I will have babies someday, somehow.  I just miss the baby that I never got to hold.

It's funny how the number on the scale pops out like a sumo wrestler to throw down.  The number is a number, not my identity or my self worth.  Yet I let it drag my mood to a gross place, a place of self-loathing and despair.  I am working out six days a week and eating (mostly) right.  And I need to continue to do those same things.  No crazy dieting, no toxic pills.  I know what it means to be healthy, and that should be my goal.  Weight-loss and fitness are not quickly achieved. 

My sister's departure came sooner than anticipated.  I can't believe it's already time for her to go.  I am so proud of her.  I am somewhat jealous of the adventures to come.  I have loved having her as my roommate the last nineteen weeks and am going to miss her severely.



Do you ever get in a funk?  How do you deal when your "funk" is not just a bad or lethargic mood, but actually based on real, sad events in your life?

Due date thoughts

Today would have been my due date. Six months ago I found out that I had suffered a missed miscarriage and that my baby Nora had gone to Heaven.

I don't know that I will ever have a reason for why this happened. I have confidence in a great God who knew that this would happen and allowed it to happen in order that it bring Him glory. It is easy to blame myself for the loss and to plague myself with "If onlys". The truth is that I did everything in my power to protect and live my child. I ate organic and used organic and natural toiletries. I cut out caffeine. I took my prenatal vitamins. I exercised and rested. I read all the books and went to all the doctor's visits. I have to make the choice to stop blaming myself.

I choose to remember the miracle that is my first child. I was overjoyed to be a mom, and for the 13 weeks that I was pregnant, I felt like a nauseous superhero. God gave me that baby to love, and even though she left this Earth too early, I had a miracle inside of me. Because of her, I will be a better parent. Because of her, I am a better wife. Because of her, I have more love for the children and families I work with. Because of her, I am better.


Today was a sad day. I don't have a wrinkled baby in my arms. I don't have a decorated nursery or baby stuff around the house. And that's sad. I will always be sad. She will always be in my heart.

Thank you to all of you who have loved me throughout this. My family and friends have been so supportive and kind. I am truly blessed.

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