Some days I feel fine. Other days I feel terrified. Some days I am trusting and sure, other days my heart is in my throat and I think I must be crazy to walk this path again. I realize that the path to good things is not always easy. The best things take work. To have children, you must get pregnant (or adopt, but that’s another discussion). For me to have the baby in my arms that I so long for, I must walk this scary road.

I believe that God is with me. I believe that He desires for us to try again, and to fully trust Him on this journey. I know that if I just fix my eyes on Him, it will be OK. I don’t mean I know things will turn out the way I want them, because, unfortunately, I can’t know that. But I know that focusing on Him gives me peace, and more strength than I have on my own. I know that He brought me through circumstances worse than my mind could have possibly dreamed up, and He will bring me through whatever happens next time.

Usually the times that I feel most anxious and lost are the times when I sit and think, and try to work things out in my head. I play different scenarios over and over, each with different outcomes and strategies to handle the cards we are dealt. I play “Choose Your Own Adventure” with my life, as if in the end I will have any say in things, anyway. I waste my time worrying... it’s a waste because it WILL NOT CHANGE A THING. My worrying is not productive.

And so I have to remind myself to STOP, and fix my eyes on Jesus. It is a constant struggle, with all the distractions and worries and thoughts around me. Taunting me to focus on them instead. Tempting me to try and talk myself through this, to rely on my knowledge and strength. And so I tear my eyes away from those concerns, and look only at Him. Only Him.

"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed." - Luke 10:41-42

random thoughts on a Monday

I like...

...when someone refers to my boys by name.
...when someone asks how I am doing, and really means it.
...when I see someone for the first time since my loss, and they acknowledge it even thought it's been "a while".
...when a friend asks to see pictures of them.

I don't like...

...when I see someone for the first time since our loss, and they act like it never happened.
...when a friend or family member never acknowledges my loss, ever, even with a card.
...when someone refers to our loss as a miscarriage (my babies were as alive as you or I am when they were born).
...when someone looks at me with pity.

"Good"

When people ask how I'm doing in passing, I've found myself able to reply "good" again for the first time in a long time. The truth is, we are doing better than a few months ago, and much better than a couple months before that, when I wondered if anything would ever be good again. The most I could manage then was an "OK."

But in addition to feeling a little better, my definition of good has changed.

My new, slightly subdued "good" has a hint of hesitation to it. Like Why yes, I am doing OK today. Thank you for asking because I didn't realize that I feel OK, and am somewhat surprised that I'm not on the verge of tears.

I suppose everyone has their go-to response to "How are you?" that rarely changes, no matter how they actually feel. One of my coworkers responds "Fine thank you how are you?" without fail anytime someone asks. My "good" is no longer an automated response to fit the social norm. I have to think about it.

If you ask how I'm doing and I say, "Good," it doesn't mean Everything is back to normal, or I don't have a care in the world, or I'm not thinking of my babies. It means I am happy that I could get out of bed today, or I am doing better, or I am learning to live with this unending ache in my heart.

I'm still on the verge of tears sometimes. But when I am able to reply "good" I don't feel like I'm lying anymore. I saw this quote on another BLM blog, from the book Still by Stephanie Cole, and it explains this odd feeling. My new "good" is a sign of my increasing ability to deal with my loss, not a sign that the pain is going away. I just have a new standard of what it means to feel good:

"People will tell you that time heals. Those people are liars. The pain doesn't go away, you just build up your tolerance to it. It is like lifting weights. If you try to lift 500 pounds, it is going to crush you. But if you lift it every day of your life, it is going to get easier and easier to do, and eventually you are going to lift it without breaking a sweat..."

Perhaps instead of responding, "Good!" I should be saying, "As good as I can be!"

Encouragement

I've been having a lot of trouble lately with my emotions. I've even been questioning God, and doubting His faithfulness. If I'm being 100% honest, I feel disappointed with Him for how things turned out with Asher & Evan. That is a terrifying thing to admit. But I know that God already knows how I feel, and He will be with me through my doubts.

This morning I had a follow up appointment with my eye doctor, and I was reminded that God is there, and He is faithful to me. I have some damage to my retina because of the pre-e, and it has resulted in the loss of a little bit of my central vision. This sounds scary—OK, is scary—but I still have 20/20 vision (with contacts) and the distortion to my retina is very mild (says the doctor). I was reminded today how much worse things could have gotten. How very, very much worse. While I am complaining that I have a couple of spots in my eyes, I should be thanking God that I am not blind. Seriously. I can still read, drive, do my job, etc. Praise God for saving my sight through all of this!

Another encouragement came this morning from a blog I read, by a girl (Kerry) who recently lost her baby girl. I don't know her personally, but I have felt a connection through our similar experiences. She had a great video that lifted my spirits, and reminded me that GOD IS GOD. No matter where I am, no matter my circumstance, God is God. That will not change. I am thankful for the reminder this morning, and the encouragement to keep pressing on. I really needed it, and God knew exactly what I needed today.

Ugh.

Last night was messy. I started a fight with my hubby, which seemed totally rational the the beginning, but got less and less reasonable as it went on. And it all came down to the fact that I was disappointed with how the evening had gone. And then that word, disappointed, kept ringing in my head. I have been so disappointed with so many things over the past few months. Or maybe just one thing, really, but it is all-consuming. And as this word resounded in my head, I could NOT. stop. crying. Of course it wasn't about J at this point, it was about my boys.

It was ridiculous. Sometimes I feel like a crazy person. I can barely manage my emotions, and I'm horrible at predicting them, so I can't imagine how frustrating it must be for other people to guess what I might do next.

I guess I was due for a breakdown anyway. That's how things go for me lately: I'll be fine for a few days, even a week, and eventually it all comes crashing down again. Ugh. I want to get off this ride.

ETA: Oh yeah: Sunday will be my original due date. Based on how the week has gone so far, I think I'm in for a rough ride.