The Day Bill meets the Lord

Today is an incredibly sad day. Phil's amazing father passed out of this life and into the loving arms of Jesus very early this morning, as his wife and daughter sang "Silent Night" at his bedside. Bill always LOVED Christmas music so much, and so this was a beautiful way for him to take his final breaths here on earth. After nearly two months of battling a rapidly progressing and very aggressive form of lymphoma, Bill's body could finally take no more. I think we are in a bit of shock at the fact that someone who just 2 months ago was still doing home repair projects and preaching to his church could so suddenly be gone. And while we know without a doubt that this is a victorious day for Bill in which he gets to meet his Lord and Savior face to face, for those of us left behind it is also a day full of sorrow and heartache. He was only 67 and so very vibrant. I know of very few human beings who so whole-heartedly serve the Lord with such passion and dedication. On top of that, he was the kindest father-in-law you could ever dream up, and I will never forget him calling to pray with me during some of the harder moments in this last year or so. There is a deep ache in my heart when I realize my children will never know their sweet grandaddy, because I have seen how wonderful he was with the 9 grandchildren he'd already been blessed with. It breaks my heart that he will not get to hold our babies. But even more, my heart aches for Cindy, his beloved wife, as she faces life without this amazing man by her side. It makes me want to cling to Phil almost desperately, with a new awareness of the fact that our time here on earth is short and we really never know how much of it we have left together. And so I hug him a little tighter and I tell him I love him more than anybody probably ever needs to hear it. But I do, and I realize now just how much I need him in my life. And when I think of the pain he is feeling at the loss of this father - his strong, hard-working, kindhearted father - my heart breaks all over again. I still say we are too young to lose our parents, because we are. But in truth, I have realized that we will ALWAYS be too young to lose them. It will never be easy. It will always be painful. These are the people from which we were created, and they have loved and supported us unconditionally every single day since the day we were born. No matter what, it is a bond we struggle to let go of, and I am just so saddened that my husband has had to do just that so quickly. Oh Bill, how you are already so deeply missed. We love you so much.

Outside the sun is shining so brilliantly, and I am so very thankful for this because inside my mind things are quite the opposite. But miraculously, despite this being the hardest year of my life, I am surviving each day and learning just how much I can actually handle. God is molding me and shaping me into someone I know I was always meant to be. I know now how much I need his presence in my life, and in watching Phil's family endure the tragedy of his father's illness these last two months, I also now appreciate what full trust in the Lord can do for your life. Even in the darkest hours, his family would praise God and trust in Him, despite everything around them falling apart. It is honestly one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, and more than anything I want to learn to live in that light. God DOES provide for our needs and he is ever faithful to us, if only we will let go and trust in his will for our lives. His reasons for things are not for us to understand, and so we are left with an important choice: We can fight against his plan and suffer the loneliness and discomfort that goes with that decision, or we can surrender ourselves fully to him and walk in the peace that only the abandonment of self can produce. I have walked many miles on the first path and can attest to the sorrow one feels when fighting against the Lord. It is not how we were meant to live our lives, and that is why feelings of anxiety and despair so easily overtake us there. Alternately, in the relatively short distances I have traversed in full surrender to God, I have experienced that surreal peace I wrote about a while back. It is inexplicable that one could feel peace and comfort in the midst of pure pain and heartbreak, and yet I promise you it can happen if we but let go of our own desperate desires and plans to instead rest in the hands of our Father who loves us. I have felt the difference and I know it is real, and yet I still fall back to route #1 more often than I'd like to admit. I am stubborn and type A all the way, and planning things out is what I do best (seriously, I plan out an entire trimester of school at a time), so letting go of what I want to happen is just about the hardest thing you could possibly ask me to do.  And that is why I fight it, even when I know the value of letting it all go. It's hard for me and I'm still learning. I have a ways to go.

And finally, since I started this blog to write out and sort through my grief over the miscarriage, I wanted to touch on that topic as well. I am still sad. I am still feeling desperate as more time passes and things continue to not be regular for my body. I still want nothing more than to be pregnant again so that I can feel that incomparable joy of growing a life inside of me. I ache for that loss. I am still grieving. With each physical disappointment (and there have been many) that proves something is wrong with my body and my cycles I seem to fall into a deeper depression, and those days are the hardest. My last cycle, it took me over 4 weeks to ovulate, and then once I did I had an 8 day luteal phase (too short). These setbacks break my heart all over again because not only is it a reminder of what was lost, but it also is like a slap in the face that we will NOT be able to try again just yet. And that is what I want more than anything, even if the thought of getting pregnant still terrifies me beyond all measure.

Yesterday I finally had my appointment with the infertility specialist, and I really liked her. She was helpful and answered all my (many, many) questions. She has started me on Metformin, which is a medication originally used for diabetes, but which is also used to help regulate menstrual cycles. I will take this 3x daily. Additionally, I will be on progesterone supplements starting 8 days after I get a positive OPK (ovulation predictor kit). I will stay on progesterone throughout my luteal phase, and if I get pregnant, into the 2nd trimester.  If I am not pregnant, eventually I'll have to stop the supplements each cycle because it usually prevents your period from coming.  They started me on this same supplement towards the end of my pregnancy, because my levels of the hormone were borderline, but by then it turned out the baby was already dead so the supplement obviously couldn't help.

So for now, I feel encouraged to be doing something to try to help my cycle issues. However, the Metformin can take a few months to really start working, and when you are inching ever closer to your due date after a miscarriage, 3 months feels like far too long. I thought I would be pregnant again by now, not just starting new treatments, but there again is the evidence of why I need to just surrender it all to God. I have no control over any of this and it stresses me out so much to dwell on it.

Also, if in 3 months we are still not able to conceive, she will start me on Femara, in addition to the other two drugs, to help promote ovulation. I hope we don't get to that point, but with the way things are going, we most likely will. As it is, I am supposed to ovulate this week if things were regular, which they aren't, so I don't expect that to happen. I am not showing any signs that it might. I try to not be too disappointed by this, but the truth is it will devastate me if it doesn't happen. And if I ovulate too late (past day 21 or 22), which I will if I even ovulate at all, she advised us not to even try to conceive, as the egg quality will be diminished by that point (probably what caused my miscarriage before... good to know that NOW). Ugh.

So anyway, there it is. This seems to be a season of death for us, and while I know that sounds dark it is also true. It is what it is. And so our grieving continues... And yet, I am so very happy to think of Bill up there meeting and loving our darling baby for us, and I know we will all meet again one day on God's celestial shores. There is so much more than just what we see here in this life, and I am thankful for that.

Feeling sorry for myself

This is to God:

God, are you hearing me? I hurt, Lord. I hurt so, so badly, and every time I think it's getting better, something happens that rips that scab right back off and I'm back to the start. Life has been so hard lately, in what feels like every way imaginable. What are you doing to me God? I have surrendered everything to you, and have found temporary peace in that act, but always, ALWAYS the pain comes back, along with the fear that walks hand in hand with that pain.

Today someone on facebook announced their pregnancy by posting an ultrasound pic of a perfect little baby... due July 4th, just 4 days after my due date. This keeps happening, over and over. The scab was ripped painfully back off. There in front of me was a picture of how my baby should look right now. A beautiful little nose, a sweet, round belly. And of course the pain I have worked so hard to conquer rushes over me just like the first day we lost the baby. It hurts just the same. I want my baby back. I hate everyone who is pregnant right now, HATE them. I hate everyone who has children and has never had to endure the awful pain of a miscarriage. I hate everyone who posts pictures of their perfect babies that they had with zero complications. I hate those who boast of answered prayers, when every single one of mine receives the exact OPPOSITE of what I petition for. Why do some people get the blessings they desire, when all I get is more and more disappointment? Of course, you know I do not actually hate any of these people. In fact, I love many of them so much. What I actually hate is the sad, bitter FEELING I have that prevents me from being truly happy for them when that is how I SHOULD be feeling. I hate SO much about my life right now. And I hate feeling like this. So much hatred. So much negativity. It's awful and I can't wait to get away from here.

Lord, where are you? You took our baby, and then you took my mom's donor we were so sure we were going to get. Or, maybe you didn't take these things. I don't know, those are some of my faith questions I might never get answered. With each disappointment I feel like I have been broken down even further. But still, I surrendered. Then, you very nearly took Phil's dad's life, and while he is still here on earth with us, the reality is that he is SO very ill. Bill Moore is a remarkable man, the sweetest father-in-law a girl could hope for, and an amazing grandaddy too. I don't want to lose him. I don't want to lose my mom. Phil and I both have very sick parents and neither of us are ready to lose them. This is hard, terrifying, exhausting.

Right now I struggle to understand why God is giving us so much disappointment and pain all at once. I try to look at it to see what I could be learning right now, what life lessons I could be gleaning from my heartache. So far, I have learned the necessity of surrendering, and that's a good lesson to learn. But then, other days, I feel just downright sad, depressed, forlorn, hopeless, forgotten, forsaken, angry, bitter, jealous, hateful, pessimistic and unable to see what exactly I am supposed to be praising God for right now. I have had enough of all of this. I am so very tired of feeling this way. I feel DESPERATE for something good to happen, anything. Some glimmer of hope to help me want to hang on just a little while longer. God? Do you even hear these cries? David cried out to you similarly in the Psalms, and I relate to his anguish. How long Lord? It's so, so hard. I need you to hear me. I can't take much more.

But then, tomorrow is a new day and we can always hope the sun will shine again... It HAS to shine again someday, I know that. Nights are always harder for me lately, and in the morning I will once again feel more hopeful. After all, maybe tomorrow is the day good things will start happening...

Supernatural Peace

Something very strange has happened, and by strange I mean good. And good things haven't really been on the menu much lately, so I figured I better write about it before I forget. In my last post I think I made it pretty clear that I was buckling under the pressure and weight of all the stressful things going on in my life. I was feeling desperate and frantic with anxiety, and depressed with the sadness of all that seems to be going wrong in my life. I was miserable and finding it increasingly hard to see anything good in the day-to-day living. It's just been a hard stretch and I've been dealing the best I could, which really wasn't that well at all.

Well, midway through this last week I got some very disheartening news from my mom: The potential kidney donor that we were so sure was going to work out did not pass her physical and would no longer be able to donate to my mom. It's a very long story as to why this is so upsetting, but suffice it to say that we were all feeling very confident that this was going to be the one, especially since St. Mary's hospital all but guaranteed that that was the case. When my mom told me the bad news, I instantly burst into tears. This was on my drive to school. I initially felt shock that honestly, one more horrible thing was happening in my life. I hadn't believed it could possibly get any worse, and then it did. I hung up the phone and proceeded to have the mother of all breakdowns. In all honesty, I should probably have pulled the car over, but I didn't. Instead, I literally screamed at the top of my lungs and cried with more force than I ever have in my entire life. I swore and screamed and sobbed with all of my being, and all of this was directed at God. I reached my breaking point that morning and something very real shattered inside of me. It sounds melodramatic, I know, but it's true. If it had been possible me to collapse into a pool of nothingness while driving, that's what I would have done. I felt like rubber, like every bone in my body had turned to liquid and I could no longer support myself. Basically, as I realized later, I reached my honest-to-God breaking point and cried until it felt like there was nothing left inside of me.

Walking into school that morning, I felt almost weightless. I don't know how else to describe it. I still felt vulnerable and couldn't fully stop crying, but the tension was somehow gone. I really, truly felt like I was floating in a dream-like state of disbelief and sadness.

That day I went about things as usual. I taught, I graded, I went to lunch, I made copies. And I didn't really cry again. Something real had changed about me, but I didn't yet fully realize it. What this change has meant is impossible for me to put into words, but I'm going to try anyway. I believe that when I reached my breaking point that morning and told God I was giving up, that I couldn't do this anymore and that he could just do whatever he damn well pleased with me and my life because I was done... I believe he took me at my word and took over. He took me anxiety and replaced it with peace. In truth, I feel a very real peace about things that I truly think has to be from God, because honestly, there is nothing to feel peaceful about right now. How else do I explain this calm, anxiety-free state of mind I have somehow encountered against all odds? It has to be supernatural and I am thankful for it. My circumstances have not changed. In fact, they have gotten worse now with Phil's dad also in the hospital with a liver disease they can't quite seem to figure out. In reality, I SHOULD be stressed and anxious, right? If you know me, you know I struggle with anxiety as it is, even in regular, every day circumstances. I've even been on medication for this issue. So it's no wonder my body had turned into a giant ball of tension and stress over these last 6 months. It IS a wonder however, that after my colossal breakdown this week, after I gave up and gave it all to God once and for all, I have felt a strange sense of peace that's almost akin to numbness. In choosing to hand it over and really, finally trust God's plan above my own, I no longer feel so obsessively anxious about it all. It's out of my control and I have surrendered, and in doing so, I feel free from all the weight and worry I've been carrying around with me. It's a good feeling and I wanted to share. I think it's an honest-to-goodness miracle in the midst of a lot of horrible chaos.

Additionally, I have made my personal mantra "God is good", and I repeat it probably hundreds of times a day. Every time I start to think about the things I am unhappy about right now and how I wish they'd change, I stop myself and start repeating that phrase. And I think it is altering my outlook. I know God is ultimately good, but when faced with so much heartbrak and struggle, it's easy to question that truth. So I repeat my mantra and I think it's starting to overpower all of my negative thoughts. It brings me comfort and it brings me peace. And that peace is the sweetest feeling there is. My other mantra is "Your plan for my life, not mine." That one helps me remember to let go of the things I want to happen right away, because I know they very well might not and I need to just accept that. His plan is what's right and by submitting my will to it, back comes that inexplicable peace. I know this is the way we're meant to do it, and I'm just sorry it too me so long to fully let go and enjoy the gift of that truth.

Soooo, things are still bad and overwhelming and stressful, and I still wish they would change immediately, but for now, "God is good" and that's enough. I'm clinging to this peace and am so thankful for the relief it has brought me.

Struggling

Every day I feel like writing, and yet more and more I think I should probably just continue this process in private. It's to the point now, almost two months post-miscarriage, that I feel others are no longer wanting to be as patient with my pain and seemingly endless struggles. I also truly want to start writing some more upbeat passages filled with hope for the future, but I'm honestly just not there. Not yet. Additionally, there are so many issues I am grappling with, and some of them are deeply personal, meaning I'm not sure I could share them in this format. But, I've started this blog and a part of me wants to keep it going. It's where I've thus far chronicled this entire experience. And I've never been one who gives something up very easily.

I am still struggling. Really, really struggling, actually. I feel like there was a brief period of time where things really DID seem ok and manageable. I felt hopeful and somehow in control. I think this was right around the time when the initial miscarriage bleeding stopped and I had first started all of my (insane) efforts to try to regulate my body as quickly as possible. I felt so encouraged and hopeful that the acupuncture, herbs and crazy organic diet would be the key. Then there was the fertility yoga, the scaled back exercising, the weight gain and every other thing I thought would make this all ok. I believed I was I doing all I possibly could to heal my body and prepare it for a healthy pregnancy. And I was. However, quite unfortunately, it thus far has seemed to have little to no effect whatsoever. I am not ovulating. My basal temps are still erratic (meaning I possibly still have the hcg hormones in my body), and there is just no chance my body will be back to "normal" anytime in the near future. I can not begin to adequately express how devastating this has been, and the devastation cuts a little deeper with each passing week. Never mind the hundreds of dollars being spent every week, there is quite simply just something wrong with my body. I have NEVER had regular cycles, in my entire life, so why would some strategically placed needles, herbs and a very expensive diet change that now? And yet, I was so hopeful.

All this means is that the hope I felt at one point is little by little being extinguished under the reality of what my body is and is not able to do. Everyone keeps saying, "give it time, it has only been 2 months and your body just needs time." Well, I don't believe that. Why would my body do anything good in this whole process? It never has, and then when I miraculously got pregnant, my body could not even support the life inside of me. And so, my current relationship with this body is not good. In fact, it is awful. I despise it and I can not trust it. I feel defective and defeated. My body is just not in my control, no matter how hard I try to change that.

So where am I at this point? I wish I could say I feel better and stronger than I did 2 months ago, but in all honesty, some days I swear I feel worse. Time does heal in some ways, but in other ways, with miscarriage anyway, time just makes things worse. With time passing comes the ever more painful realization that you are further and further away from where you should have been, had your baby lived. Also, as the days pass by, everyone else moves on and forgets this even happened. They expect you to be moved on and fine too, when in reality most days I struggle to keep from crying and can rarely think of anything OTHER than the very thing I am expected to forget. I am still hurting, maybe even more so than I was when it was still a shock and so very unreal to me. I am desperate to move on, and yet am unable to do so. I am aware of the fact that no one really wants to hear about this anymore, and that even if people ask how I'm doing, they don't want the truth. The time limit for sympathy is up and here I remain, floundering on my own in this terrible darkness called grief. I hate it here, I really do. I've never hated anything so much in all my life (except perhaps Polycystic Kidney Disease).

I started seeing a Christian therapist last Saturday, and I hope that will help. All of last week it felt like the weight of the suffering in my life was increasing until I could no longer stand under the pressure. I NEEDED help and no one around me could really offer it. I feel guilty for feeling so sad and for still WANTING others to care about it. I feel sorry for constantly unloading my grief on others, and yet I can not pretend that all is well. I have always said I never worked as a waitress because I have never been able to hide my feelings and act cheerful when I'm not. I wear my heart on my sleeve and that's just who I am. Speaking with my therapist did help, and I'm thankful for the outlet. I don't have to feel guilty unloading my thoughts and emotions on her because that's her job. She HAS to listen to me. Ha.

This has been one shitty winter and I am struggling. It feels like the first 27 years of my life passed in relative ease without me ever really realizing how good I had it (isn't that the way it works though?), and then with turning 28, BAM, my whole world keeps getting turned upside down and things just get harder and harder. I know these bad times are when we are able to draw closest to God, and I am really working on handing everything over so as to be ready to just fully TRUST what lies ahead. But the truth is that if what lies ahead isn't at least a little bit better than the last year of my life, I'm not sure how much more I can take of it all. I don't want to live like this forever.

Sick

Welcome back to the most depressing blog on the web! Ha. I keep hoping for a chance to write about something really HAPPY and upbeat, but alas, that opportunity has yet to present itself. It has been pointed out to me, and I understand why, that really this is all a matter of choice, meaning we CHOOSE how we are going to react to things. If I want to be positive and hopeful that is fully, 100% up to me. And some days, as I've mentioned before, I really do feel like that. I have days where I feel encouraged and so hopeful about the future; however, thus far anyway, those days are always, always followed by the worst days where all seems bleak and overwhelming. I'm so ready for those days be done, and yet they just keep on coming.

Yesterday was another really bad day. On Monday, I got a call, finally, from the Dr. who did my D&C after the miscarriage. She was calling to answer some questions for me, and really, her answers were anything BUT encouraging. She told me that what I had thought was my first real period a couple of weeks ago (which had been very encouraging to me) was really probably not that at all, considering the fact that my hcg hormone levels had not yet gone back down to zero. She said it was probably just "some leftover tissue and blood from the pregnancy that needed to come out." Maybe that doesn't sound like a big deal, but let me tell you, after going through this, ALL you want is for your body to return to normal, and that means starting to have regular cycles again. Hearing that my body was still miscarrying, some 50 days later, was not what I wanted nor needed to hear. This is taking so much longer than I ever thought it would. I feel like my last pregnancy will never actually be over and I will be forced to relive the sadness of the failure of it all over and over and over again.

Additionally, the Dr. told me we would just cancel my previously scheduled appointment coming up on January 31st, when we had planned to talk about the next steps for us to try to get pregnant again (ie what testing to do b/c my cycles have always been SO messed up, and that's what we were starting to look into before all of this happened). Well, she said we should reschedule this appointment for March now, because I need to have a "normal" period before any of that discussion is even relevant. This is so depressing to me. March? I lost my baby in December. By March I was supposed to be 6 months pregnant, not just starting to think about how to go about trying again. One of the hardest parts of all of this is the feeling of time being wasted. We are now talking about an entire half of a year that will be wasted, added to the year it took us to even get pregnant to begin with. And I have so much fear that I am going to go right back to the same old problems of horribly long and irregular cycles, where I rarely, if ever ovulate. It could very well be another year before we're successful again, and then of course there is always the risk that it could all just end in another miscarriage.

I realize all of this hypothetical worrying is pointless, and I try to let it go and just TRUST, but so far I'm mostly failing at that effort. I trusted God before and it did not end well. And yes, I know trusting God does not mean we are guaranteed an easy ride. But this does mean is that I now realize trusting God sometimes means even your worst nightmares can still happen. We're not exempt. I know he cares about me and can turn it all to good, but that doesn't mean this won't happen all over again. I can literally drive myself crazy going in meaningless circles on this issue.

Also, I am paying a lot of money right now to try to get my body on a regular menstrual cycle, what with the weekly acupuncture, Chinese herbs, and trying to eat mostly organic foods. On the one hand, these efforts have helped me feel encouraged that at least I am doing all I can do to help this situation. However, on the other hand I have this fear that even this might not be enough. Maybe it isn't working and all of this money will be wasted. I don't know. There's no way to know the outcome of any of this, and so usually I just give up and drop it all in a heap at God's feet. I ask him to take over because I'm tired of dealing with all of the worry and doubt and fear. Sometimes I feel that works, and other times it doesn't.

Which leads me to yesterday, which as I mentioned previously, was not a good day at all. Work was fine, as it usually is (I really am thankful for my job right now), but at a meeting after school I started to develop a headache that quickly got worse and worse. It also hurt to swallow, but that often happens after a day of talking too much while teaching. Anyway, I brushed it all off and headed home, where I got to hang out with one of my favorite people, my sister, Jenn Moore. She and Logan came over because Jenn and I had planned to start walking one day a week. We never did make it on the walk (too gray, wet, etc.), but as usual Logan managed to make me smile and laugh in the way only he can do. He is such a sweet little man. But then, as they were getting ready to go, Logan was standing by the couch, leaning back and being silly, when I started tickling his exposed belly. Laughing, he bent down a little too quickly and hit the corner of the coffee table HARD with his poor little cheek. He bruised up instantly, and I of course felt awful for tickling him and causing the whole thing. I know he will be just fine, but it still makes you feel bad. So when Jenn and Logan left soon after to go home, I suddenly started crying. It wasn't just what happened to Logan, although I think that was the straw that broke the camel's back. It was just simply everything. I lost it. I cried and sobbed and just let myself go to the emotions that get all bottled up inside. I am overwhelmed by all of the heavy, difficult and unfair things going on in my life (and the lives of loved ones around me). I am SO sick and tired of feeling this way. I hate being sad, and yet I am definitely more sad than I have ever been in my entire life. I cried again, for the first time in a while, for the life of my baby that was lost. I cried for what my mom has had to go through with her illness, and for the uncertainty of what lies ahead. I cried and cried and made deep, sorrowful noises I swear I have never heard come out of me. I spent myself completely and cried until I felt there were no longer any emotions left in my body. I begged God to step in and just HELP me with the burdens I can't fully let go of. I asked him to hear me, and to somehow let me know he hears me.
And then, somehow I just stopped. One can only cry for so long, you know. As I dried my tears and used cold water on my face, I realized my cheeks felt really hot. Still, hadn't I just been crying uncontrollably for a good half an hour? I assumed that's all it was. So I took my pounding headache with me downstairs and started working on some dinner. Finally, my headache got so bad that I just went to bed, where I realized I had chills and could not warm up. I took my temperature and at that point it was only about 99.8, so I figured I'd be fine by morning. At midnight, I woke up again and felt awful, and when I took my temp then it was up to 101.4. Awesome. So, I stayed home from school today to try to kick whatever this is as quickly as possible. And now, I guess I am sick too, just to top it all off. Ha. The thought that keeps coming back to my mind is, "when it rains, it pours." But at some point, the sun really does have to come back out, right? Right?

On a side note, after I read the 101.4 temperature last night, I lay awake for a good three hours, basically obsessing over the fact that the flu shot I was made to get in November when I was pregnant has done nothing but cause me anxiety, and now illness. When I saw my baby on that final ultrasound back in early December, the day they estimated the baby had stopped growing and died was the DAY AFTER my flu shot. I asked about that and they basically told me there is no research that proves there is any increased risk of miscarriage due to flu shots, but that ultimately they really didn't know. They just know they administer them all the time as standard protocol. I let it go. But now, here I am with my first fever and flu-like symptoms in the last 10 years, and I have to wonder about injecting my body with a virus like that. This is the first flu shot I've ever gotten, and look what happened. I know it could all just be coincidence, but I also know that I personally will not EVER get one again. Not ever.

I sincerely hope, for whoever is reading this, that life is treating you better than it seems to be treating me. I don't mean to be so "woe is me", but I am being honest here, and in all honestly life is just really, really hard right now. I'm doing my best to hang on to all the hope I can muster, but with each let down that gets harder and harder to do. So I guess for now, the depressing blog posts will have to continue just a little while longer.

The last week...

This last week has been rough. I had been feeling far more optimistic and hopeful overall, and still do a lot of the time, but I have also been shown that there will continue to be ups and downs in this process called grief. It goes like this: One day you wake up and go throughout your morning as usual, not even really thinking about the fact that you had a miscarriage and lost a child just over a month ago. You may even make it through most of the day without giving that sad fact much thought, and at times you even start to think maybe you are healed and ready to move on. But then, some seemingly small, insignificant thing will catch you off guard and suddenly you are hiding yourself in a bathroom stall, trying your best to stifle the sobs and tears that come rushing out of nowhere. This can be as simple as hearing someone talk about their kids or seeing a new picture of someone else's baby on facebook. Other times, all it will take is for someone to ask how I'm doing for me to suddenly realize they hey, I'm not actually doing that great, thanks for asking. Things have definitely been better. Grief is funny in that it does allow you moments of respite in which you realize life is moving on and you will, in fact, be just fine. I think this is called grace, and otherwise we would not be able to survive the never-ending heartache. But I have learned that while grief DOES get better over time, much, much better, it does NOT in fact disappear completely. This might seem like common sense, but I have had moments of naive enough hope where I actually thought the hard part was over and that really I was perfectly fine.
I'm not perfectly fine, but I truly am so much better. I don't mean to be such a Debby Downer about it all, but the truth is that I am struggling a bit with the cold, gray January. I am so much better than I was a month ago, but still I feel sad. I feel broken. I feel scared for the future. Other times, I feel hopeful and encouraged, and I am thankful for those reprieves, but overall I am just passing the time and hoping these depressing winter months will pass quickly.
There have been other things that have fueled my sadness over this last week or so, and it is a shared grief for loved ones who are hurting. My beautiful sister-in-law is also going through a miscarriage, which she learned of just over a week ago. This should not be happening. She has been through this four times now, and having only experienced the horror of it once, I can honestly say I am in awe of her strength and ability to pick up the pieces and go on after such pain. I am grieving anew for both her and for the niece or nephew we already loved. I ache for her in knowing how horrible this feels. I want to make it better, and yet I know from experience that no one can really do that. And so, I pray. I continue to pray for the present and for the future, despite questioning how effective our prayers really are in the grand scheme of things. I pray because I know not what else to do. It's all there is at times, and so I do it.
Additionally, another dear friend who has seen me through so many hard times, found herself in a completely different, yet equally as difficult situation, and it is another situation I can empathize with. Her father had an emergency spinal cord surgery this last week, due to an injury which could have basically left him paralyzed. In their first night in the hospital, awaiting surgery, I thought of her and how she described the feelings of just sitting there "staring at him" while he slept. I remember similar nights with my mom last spring, where you do just want to stare and stare and imprint their images in your mind so as to never, ever lose them. It's in these moments where we bargain with God, where we BEG for healing, for relief from pain, for more TIME. We realize our parents are mortal beings who will not in fact be able to care for us indefinitely, despite us feeling like we couldn't ever possibly survive without them there. It is terrifying, and yet beautiful in that it's the only way for us to fully realize the value of these human lives. We love these family members more than we even know, and with such brushes with death, a whole new appreciation for that person emerges. Yes, that appreciation should have been there all along, but was not, simply because we never fully KNEW what it might feel like to have to say goodbye. Yet, I am happy to say that, like my mother, my best friend's father is pulling through this. He is making leaps and bounds in his recovery, and with that comes that same appreciation that we are being given more time. More time to love each other and be to each other what only family can be. I firmly believe, with all of my heart, that he is going to make a full recovery here and I can not wait to see that happen.

And so, as always, there is good with the bad. And there is a lot of good, truthfully. I am so blessed by all that have, and I am trying to focus on that. The future will be brighter, and I am also trying to focus on that. I have many moments of joy, despite the anxieties and hurdles (like finding out this week my pregnancy hormones have still not gone back to zero... Will this EVER really be over?). I have amazing classes and students right now, which is such a blessing. I mean, they are ridiculously good. They are hardworking and sweet, and they make me laugh during the times when I'd think it impossible. I also have a long weekend away this weekend with three of the people I love more than anything on earth: Phil, my mom and my dad. As we head to Pentwater to cozy in for a few days of bed-and-breakfast warmth, I plan to let go of my worries as best I can and really just focus on all I have to thankful for right now. This takes effort on my part, but it's an effort I'm willing to make.

And yet...

I am trying to decide if this last month of my life has passed slowly or quickly. There have been other times in my life where the days seem to be crawling along while I'm in the moment, but then looking back once time has passed results in a different feeling altogether. This is one of those times. Every day feels horribly slow. I thought going back to school would help this, but honestly, the last two days have felt just as slow, if not slower, than the long days of vacation. This is not to say that every day is a bad day, because that's simply not true. However, every day does seem to take its sweet time drawing to a close, and I find myself wishing the time away. It has been almost a full month since the miscarriage, and as I write this it does seem crazy to me that so much time has passed already, considering how slowly each moment creeps by me right now. This, of course, is all in my head. I want time to pass quickly so that my body can finally go back to "normal". I want to be able to start trying again. I'm ready for that and tired of being stuck in this limbo between miscarriage and hope.

And yet, I am thankful for how far I've come already. Even though I thought the bleeding would seriously drag out indefinitely, it did eventually stop. That was huge. During that first, awful week, I could not begin to comprehend how life could possibly go on and return to normal. I thought all hope was lost and that I would never, ever be able to smile again. That too came to an end. Time really does heal all wounds, if not fully, at least just enough so that we can go on with life and face our daily tasks without plummeting into utter hopelessness. Slowly, you take a step back and realize just how much you are capable of handling; I now realize it's so much more than what I ever thought I could manage before. God's will will never take us where his grace cannot sustain us. I have found that to be true time and again in my life, and this experience has been no exception. Did I get angry at God? Obviously, if you've read this blog you know I did. Did I go so far as to question his very existence? Again, yes. Heck, I might have even sworn at him a few times in all of my passion. And yet.

And yet, a thin beam of light has been inching its way into the dark, foggy recesses of my subconscious this last week or so, breaking its way into that part of my mind where I hide all of my doubts, fears, questions and anxieties away from plain sight. This light is both beautiful and terrifying. It tells me that God is there. He hears me when I cry out in furious passion, and (unfortunately) he also hears me when I defy all that he is and all that he ever has been in my life. He hears me and knows me. He cares. He loves me deeply, so much more deeply than I'll ever be able to understand. He takes me back and forgives, washing over me with the a saving light I don't deserve. I apologize for my words, for my anger, for my actions and I know instantly that all is forgiven. It's OK.

I'm trying hard to let this light in, and yet still it scares me. I ask the Lord to help me with my burdens. I lay them all at his feet and try to walk away. I even turn around and take a few lighter steps in the right direction. And then, I panic: If I put it all in God's hands, and I mean ALL of it, I have to admit to myself that it's his will I need to desire and not my own. I am struggling with this. I WANT to want what God wants for my life, and yet my own desires are too powerful and I find I am not quite able to fully let go. I cling to my desire to have things fixed just so... I get anxious that if I hand these things over to God and instead aim to seek his will first, I will find myself NOT getting the answers I so desperately want. I am stuck in this conundrum and I can't seem to find the escape. I know what I need to do, and yet I seem to be unable to commit to that just yet. I am working on it.

Oh, this blog is a mess. Really, I should just be journaling in private because I set out to write about one thing, only to have my mind wander in ten different directions by the time I'm finished. If you are reading these, thanks for being patient and for being willing to read the ramblings of broken, yet finally healing spirit.

One more thing. As I talked to my mom the other day, she used a simile that so well describes how I feel right now. She said I was like an open wound that has started healing around the edges, but that can still be easily reopened by the slightest thing. There is no better way to describe it. I AM healing. I know this with all of my heart. And yet, on any given day, even if I am feeling nearly 100% like my old self, the smallest thing can send me spiraling right back to the initial pain of the miscarriage. For example, I have had two friends in the last week announce on facebook that they are pregnant and expecting their babies right around my original due date. The first time this happened, I literally felt like I had been sacked in the stomach. It was that hard of a blow. I saw the five million congratulatory comments and felt bitter towards every one of them. I thought about how Phil and I would now be sharing the news with the world too, and that just hurt so badly. And my mind went to other worse places I won't even share here. But, I will say that while these moments seem to rip the scab off and open that wound right back up, it doesn't take me too long to move on again. Can I be fully happy for these friends? Not yet. I wish I could, but I'm just not there yet. But I don't let it ruin my entire day. I try to refocus my thoughts elsewhere, and usually it works. There have been so many other things that have caught me off guard and literally left me gasping for breath at the pain felt in that still fresh wound, and I would be naive to think there wouldn't be more to come. And yet, one more time, I am OK. I am stronger than I thought I was. I am healing.