Innocence Gone

Tomorrow will be 15 weeks.  15 weeks since our little family started to expand. And I still can't wrap my head around it.

It's a wonderful thing, this chance to grow our little brood. But it's terrifying too. No longer can I take a deep breath after the first trimester and tell myself we are safe now, that everything will be ok. I know that there are no guarantees. I know that the worst can and often does happen. And I know sometimes that lightening does strike in the same place twice. Our innocence is gone. It was shattered months ago by the cruelest fate.

I know what it's like to hear those awful words, that rattle in your bone even now months later. I know what it's like to hold my child for the first time and they are just so still, so quiet. I know what it's like to pray over her and beg God to please, oh please just let her open her eyes. To pray with every cell in your body for a miracle. Or to wake up from this awful dream.

I know what it's like to hand my child to a nurse, who carries her away with tears in her eyes. I know what it's like to hand my child to a nurse, who takes her to the morgue.

I know what it's like to never see or hold my child again. And to lose my faith,

So how do we get through these coming weeks and months? How do we get through the minutes, without going crazy. Where do we find the faith to hold on and hope that this time we get to bring our baby home.

It's Been Awhile

Its been awhile since I've written last. It's not that I haven't had anything to say, it's just that I don't know what to say. I'm feeling too much right now and I don't really know what to do with it all. At the same time, I feel like I'm stuck in the grieving process. I'm past the initial shock and have been for a few months. But now I am floating back and forth between grief and anger.

Some days I'm really just very sad. Lay in bed all day, avoiding the world sad. I don't want to talk, I don't want to socialize, I don't want to do anything but wallow because quite frankly that is all I have the energy for.

Other days I can't stop thinking about things that make me so mad. The family that let us down, the people who have already forgotten that Hannah was born and loved and loved still. I'm mad at a God who lets this happen to us, who lets this happen to the wonderful women and families that I have met along the way. Why? Seriously, why? Our babies were so loved, so wanted. Why take them? Its not fair, it just so wildly unfair! I'm mad (yes, quite unfairly) at people who get to bring their daughters home from the hospital. Why them? Why not me? Why can't this be their grief? Why is this mine?

The back to grief. And then back to anger. Then grief...well, you get the picture.

I guess what I've learned over the last 10 months is that grief is messy and ugly and does not flow cleanly thru the "stages." So I'm not going to rush it or push it or even try to move past it (Ha! There is ZERO moving past it!) Instead I am going to stay where I am, feel all the feelings and just be.