The Room

I've been thinking a lot about my heart.

This past week I've been really busy, with work and art for a ladies retreat.  I have had gloriously messy  hands at least three times.  That is a good, good things.  Put a messy medium in my hands and let me create and I'm happy.  Remind me to tell you about my daydreams.

Since my time has been so full, I haven't had as much time to think about anything else, including the sweethearts.    I was musing on that fact the other day and I was struck with a visual.

Picture my heart as a house.  When I found out I was pregnant, my heart was full.  Sunshine and laughter filled every corner.  It was like sitting outside, soft, warm summer sunshine bathing in the green of the leaves on trees surrounding you. It was magical.  Every one of those special "momma smiles" seem to hang on the walls, like so many portraits.  Friends and family are welcomed in, each leaving a note or present.  Even so, there is really only your husband and you and them. You hold them, dance with them and try not to fear over what you will never be able to control.

And then it's different.  The rooms get grey-ier. All hope isn't gone, the colors just change. Laughter drifts out.  You find fingerprints on windows, but can't find the hands.  Its like when you walk in a room that was filled with people and now is suddenly empty and you laugh nervously, wondering what the joke is and when everyone will come pouring back in.

That all slowly changes. The glitter returns. You feel the absence, but it's not as strong.  You look around and notice a room.  Somehow, at some point, you've moved them there.

 I can't pinpoint when it happened.

I can still walk in the room and catch a whiff of sunshine, a touch of warmth.   There's a blanket, giggling and Amelia Bedelia books.  It's just now, they are in there for the most part, where I can visit without being overwhelmed.

I'll still step on the emotional lego from time to time.  That's okay though.  Just because it hurts, that doesn't mean it's bad.

His Words

Thursday morning, there was a new comment on my "A Long Goodbye" post.  

Somewhere doesn't really read my blog. I knew he definitely hadn't since all this happened. I was totally okay with this. This is my outlet, my way to process life.  

Thursday, though, he did.  He woke me up at 5 AM to let me read this comment.  

I felt I should share it.  I don't have a good segue. I asked him before I shared this. 3 weeks later, this is my husband's thoughts.  (He may actually write a "guest post" for me soon.)

I finally had the thought "I think I can read this now". And I have at 5am before going to sleep. And have cried. And wished. And hoped. But mostly cried. I didn't realize how hurt I still am. I've been trying not to think about it all too much. I've been distracting myself with tv, video games, web coding, and prop fabrication. Because of that, I couldn't see that I really haven't dealt with much at all.

It still sucks. Bad.

We will get through, but it still hurts. I am glad for our close family and friends... and our two wonderful/annoying dogs. They have helped so much.

Someday (hopefully soon) we can become ready to have children. My heart hurts not being able to share Star Wars and magic tricks with these. To see their faces light up when a quarter disappears and comes out of their ear. To hear them say, "Do it again daddy!" To see their faces when they find out that Darth Vader is Luke's father. I will get to share this with others, but not these.

Someday.

-Somewhere

You Gave Up Everything

River: I remember everything. 

I remember too much. 

And some of it's made up, 

and some of it can't be quantified, 

and there's secrets, and...

Simon: Hey, i-it's okay. 

River: But, I understand. You gave up everything you had to find me. 

You found me broken. It's hard for you. You gave up everything you had. 

Simon: Mei-mei, everything I have is right here.

You know, you can argue with me about how Jesus came for God's glory to be made great.  He did. This is truth.  You can talk me to death about theology. I find it has a place and I am not shooshooing it. 

There is something in this quote that screams Jesus to me ever since I was reminded of it the other day. 

He gave up his heavenly throne to walk the earth, God in dust, and instead picked up tools, bread and wooden death. He did so much and when he found me, He found me, us, broken. So broken.  He found His Beloved, His Bride.  She is broken, bruise and beaten down.  I've pictured it before, can I even look in his eyes? Me, who ran away as I was born. Can I even meet his eyes or do I look at them in blatant arrogance. No, it is shame. 

And He found me beautiful.

Just a thought. 

Honestly

Today and yesterday have been rough days.

I hate admitting the bad days.  I feel like I feel the thoughts of the people reading or hearing this. That they think "Oh finally. See, she's not okay.  She's finally cracking.  I knew she couldn't be handling this as well as she claims."
I said I would blog this journey honestly.  I won't sugar coat the bad days and pretend they don't happen.  I want this to be a blog that could one day perhaps help someone through this.  Making it seem like I never related to the bad moment isn't a way to do that.  I've never lied.  I've never pretended.  For the most part, considering it's almost at three weeks since home, I'm doing fairly well. I think. I honestly have felt really strong peace.  I have strength in me I didn't know was there.  I am "olden-ed" by this.

For me, this is what a bad day is:
I am tired, all the time.
Anything or nothing can send me to tears.
Praying to not have to say goodbye again anytime soon.
I am snappy.
I just want to have an excuse to punch someone.
I also want to just live in Somewhere's arms.
I don't want to talk or text.

I was analyzing it to Somewhere earlier.  I think my mind and heart have just reach the point where they say, that's it.  We've held back what we can.  We'll hold what we have, but, we can't do a lot more than that right now.  It's keeping your heart together is as much as you can do.  Dealing socially with people is a bit more mental taxation than you have in you at the moment.  I have had a harder time the past two days dealing with others' problems or even jokes.  I just can't. deal.  Not right now.

I feel like admitting this is going to send you guys running for a label.  I'm not headed for depression.  Physically, my hormones are trying to level. My heart is trying to level.

I want to curl in Somewhere's arms.
I want to sleep.
I want to watch stars.
I want a campfire on a beach.
I want to be alone (with Somewhere) and get away.
I want to lose myself in music that lets me mourn.
I want to let myself hurt.
I want to melt and pour out.

Life calls though. It asks me not to slip too far away.  It wants me to work. It wants me to be human. It reminds me to stay just busy enough.

Don't be scared for me.  I will be me again.  I'll be a different me. I will heal, with a beautiful scar to remind me that there is a plan I can't see.

I just have to go through a bad day or two.
I will make it through this.
As a friend reminded me, it's not about the destination, it's about the journey.

 Capt. Mal: You think she'll hold together? 

Zoe: She's torn up plenty, but she'll fly true. 
 Capt. Mal: Could be bumpy. 
: Zoe: Always is. 

"Serenity" 2005

Yesterday's Memory

featuring:

pink and grey--
a discovery--crying--proof

shiny mail--sunshine--tinted nails

quiet--star wars

a man and two dogs

I've been reading the book "The Book Thief", as I mentioned two days ago.  Each chapter starts in the above format.  It's so interesting because it gives you something to piece together, words to look for. Like pink and grey, in the story, would be eloquently (one of my favorite words) pieced into a story of me, busily cleaning the pantry, drinking morning coffee.  I never have been one to wake up and drink coffee.  That has changed. 

pink and grey.

 I was gifted a Keurig by a dear sweet friend in NC the Saturday before all went upside down.  I have to admit, I love it.  There is so little clean up.  I'm a lazy coffee drinker, unless I'm in the mood for the motions of coffee making, I hate all the steps and the clean up. Its the total truth.  There is one of my flaws. I'm a lazy coffee drinker.  Thus. The Keurig is perfect for a first-world person like myself.  I got up yesterday with the strangest urge to just go make a coffee, sit quietly and dwell.  I made the coffee.  That part of the plan happened.  Then I was suddenly hit with the desire to clean the pantry.  

I went in to try the Pinterest idea of using a soda can box as a way to store canned goods. (It would work with Campbell's soup cans, but, not veggie cans.)
After that fatal step, I couldn't stop tidying it! I was just cleaning because I simply had to clean.
I am not the cleanest person in the world, that said, sometimes I just have to clean.
I took the computer into the pantry and turned on the new P!nk album on Spotify.  There may have been booty dancing while I cleaned.  The pantry now looks awesome, as does the laundry room.

That story, is not where pink and grey come in.
They come in as the cover and the holder of my little book. The shield for the Kindle, which has not yet been named, is hot pink.
Would I ever in my life pick up a hot pink cover?
No. I would not.
Thus I am so glad I did not purchase this cover, because I adore it's pinkness.  I wouldn't get that joy if I had gotten it. My Kindle, the book holder, is grey.  Not quite so eloquent, eh?

Goodness, I have signed up for a lot of words.

a discovery.
When you go to the health department to have a pregnancy test, they give you the test in a sealed bag, if you want. It's not gross or anything.  Well, I kept mine, of all places, in a cabinet in the laundry room. The laundry room that I was cleaning yesterday. When I went to put away some rags, there it was. A little orange striped bag containing a small white rectangle. I took it, and threw it in the trash.

crying.
As you can imagine, that sparked a moment of raw emotion. I remembered the joy, the moment I was told that the home test wasn't wrong, I really was pregnant. My mom was with me. Oh how many steps she's taken with me.
Now, that object didn't bring joy.

proof.
In a startling thought, I realized I had just thrown away my last proof, other than a piece of paper, that I had in fact been pregnant.  I couldn't do it.  I needed it.  I needed that proof.  I dug it out of the trash, and placed it back in the cabinet. I will figure out the next step later.

shiny mail.

A sweet, sweet old friend of mine, who I actually met online and then had as a bridesmaid in our wedding, sent me an adorable Firefly sticker.  It will go on the case of my phone whenever I get an iPhone again.  Until then, it will keep me company here at my desk.  I'll add a picture and you'll see why it's shiny.  Or maybe you already get it if you are a Browncoat.  I love it and it gives me happy sighs.

sunshine.
Due to needing to leave the house for a little while, we went to town and purchased some foods for dinner. Which we ate in a church parking lot, then sat, dogs in back, and read or played. The sun was brilliant yesterday. As usual. Heh. We just could see it well.
Autumn has hit with a delicate, cold kiss. The leaves are blushing red, while others have paled yellow. Winds brush hair aside. Chill has run it's icy fingers down my spine.  It all just makes me want to cozy down with a hot drink in the nestlike arms of pillows and blankets.

tinted nails.
My mother let me raid her nail polish for a nice fall color. I ended up with "Fearless Fog" and "Thinking of Blue" by Sally Hansen.  I sat, while watching tv, and soaked my hands.  Lamentably, I tore a cuticle .. somehow. I've been tea tree oiling it so hopefully that will bear nice results. I, then, proceeded to carefully paint each nail. There is something nice in the thickness of nail paint. My index fingers received the blue, and the rest, the fog.
I can say this, an exceptional gift for someone hurting is to do their nails.  I requested a friend come over and paint nails with me when she asked if I would like a visit.  I felt so not pretty and just needed to have pretty toes.  I have no idea why.
She came, and as is her fashion, went above and beyond the request.  She filled two pans of warm water, soaked my feet, rubbed them with creams, scrubbed off dead skin. She loving dried them, lotioned them and then finally, painted them. I text her later that I felt loved and luxurious from my toes to my heart. I love my lowercase friend.

quiet.
Despite the music and the cleaning, neither of which stopped after the pantry and laundry room, the day had a beautiful quiet to it.  Somewhere and I both had the day off and spent a lot of it on projects and each other.  Just in being near. Even the weather felt quiet. Our roommate had work in the evening.  It was simply quiet.

star wars.
I told Somewhere that he was amazing.  He said "I know." His typical response to such a statement. I told him that I now understood he was quoting Star Wars in that.  Sort of like "As you wish" from one of our other favorite movies.  I hadn't realized that was what he was quoting until I saw a pair of cups that said "I love you" on one and "I know" on the other with a title of being a Star Wars nerd.
Star Wars is very important to Somewhere.  I like the movies, I've RPG'ed in the world.  I don't remember many stellar details from it though.
I love Somewhere, truly, madly, deeply. I know that stellar detail.
 Therefore, I uttered this:
"Can we rewatch the movies and you point out what is really great about the different moments?"
Of course he said yes.
Last night, we started the rewatch with Episode One. Can I deny that I, despite great determination not to, fell asleep in the last bit? No. No I cannot.  I do understand more now though. Today, the rewatch will continue.

a man and two dogs.
This sums up my companionship for yesterday.
A man and two dogs.  I have received so much from all three.
A man who is there for me, constantly.  He has been such a shelter. I have not the words to really describe what he is to me. It's simply more.

Two dogs.
One who knew something was wrong when I got home from NC and wouldn't come near me. Very unlike him (He also knew before I did that I was pregnant and started being very protective and careful around me.
That all changed when I got home from the hospital the second time.  He didn't leave my side.  I would lay in my living room bed and have a warm monster of a beast pasted to my side.

The second beast, my darling girl, she is my pale shadow. I wake with her head next to mine, her tail always wagging from just a meeting of eyes between us. She and I are just meant.

Those three, and no more, yesterday did my heart need.

Carrying Nothing

I really love the artist P!nk. She is a secular artist, so she isn't for everyone.  Personally, I'm a big fan.

Physically, she inspires me.  I haven't felt up to it yet this week, but, next week, work out starts.  It's time for a healthier Didge.  I was talking to Somewhere about it and I said "you know, it's not just that I want to look good. I do want to get in shape and add to my confidence about my body.  It's that I was just in the hospital for something I couldn't prevent.  I want to make sure I do my part to not end up there for something I could prevent."
Body wise, I don't hate myself.
One of my regrets, being honest, was that I hadn't lost my baby weight when I got pregnant.  I wanted to be in the best shape possible.  I wasn't. (And no, that didn't contribute, to my knowledge, to our miscarriage.)  That doesn't mean I don't feel beautiful.  I know improvements can be made but that doesn't make me ugly.  As Da Vinci said, "Art is never finished, only abandoned."  I think beauty is the same way.  Just because it's not left alone yet, that doesn't mean it isn't art.
All that said. Didge is getting in better shape.

P!nk's newest song "Try", which has amazing fight dancing in it, has some lyrics that have gotten stuck in my mind.

"Where there is desire
There is gonna be a flame
Where there is a flame
Someone's bound to get burned
But just because it burns
Doesn't mean you're gonna die
You've gotta get up and try try try"

Ain't that the truth.
It makes me think about how fire purifies gold.  Pain isn't always bad... and it isn't without it's necessity.  Pain physically tells you when something needs attention or help.  I think it's the same for our soul.


On another note: today I was thinking at work about how I'm never without the thought of what happened.  It was an odd thought.
It literally hasn't left my mind in two and a half weeks. It doesn't matter what I'm doing, I feel it's presence constantly, a nagging awareness in the back of my mind. I don't want to forget, that's not my goal.  I just know one day, they won't be at the front of the back of my mind.  It's like I'm carrying so much in my carrying nothing.

It is amazing how heavy a burden nothingness can be.

The Good, The Bad and the Kindle.

I took a break from blogging the last couple days.  I just didn't have much to say.  I've started back to work.  That's going rather well.  I've yet to burst into tears or do anything insane...r than normal.

Seeing as I am wanting to do this every day, or at least every other day, some days are just small nothing "here's how life is" moments.  Those I'm not as likely to share on FB because I don't want to seem like an attention hog.  Do I over think things? Definitely.

Side note, since I got a Kindle, I've taken a little break from my "only read the Bible" quest.  I know, I know, doesn't this seem like the one time I do need to only read my Bible.  I get that.  I just felt okay/at peace about taking some time to do what I call Bubblegum Reading. A lot of sweet, doesn't last long, and not a lot of substance.  That said, the books I have read haven't really been that light.  Right now, I'm reading The Cover Up and The Book Thief. They are both rather good.

Somewhere and I were talking tonight in the car about how we were doing and what not and I brought up how people will use the word "mad" and "angry" about what happened.
{If you have been one of those people, you are totally okay and right to use those words.  This is not AT ALL in condemnation of those words.} 
Many people say things about how it's okay to be angry with God or to ask why.  It's okay to be mad. Others have said sweet words involving the brokenness of the world we live in.

I understand those statements.

The strange thing is, overall, Somewhere and I aren't mad.  He said "You know, not once have I really felt mad or like asking God why."
We hurt and ache.  We long with empty arms. We just aren't mad.
I know who my Savior is.
I know who designed my body and who holds the power of life... and death.
I know there is a level of death being caused by the Fall.
I don't believe though, that Satan or anything "evil" had a hand in our miscarriage.
God did a marvelous job of designing a woman's body to carry children.  He also designed it to know when a baby wouldn't make it and that the body didn't need to carry on with a pregnancy.  That's perhaps a hard thing to handle, but it is what it is.
I do not blame evil.
I have asked God why in brokenness, but, I didn't really expect an answer.
I told Somewhere that I don't think I could comprehend the answer, it would be too big.  Also, if I can't accept what I see as bad as a way for God to work good, what is that point.  Am I only to accept the good and not the bad?

I once had an art teacher tell me I was gifted in art because I could accept my flaws.  I didn't just get upset over messing up, I turned it into something else.  Many of my accidents were some of my greatest, strongest pieces.  When I started drawing, did I forsee that? Nope. Looking back though, I do.

God does not make mistakes. There is nothing He does not see.  What I see right now as something going wrong... well, that could very well be part of one of the greatest and strongest piece of me.

Just a little update

I'm trying to do this daily.  Mostly so I have something to look forward to as a way to release.  It also helps encourage me to think about what happened and how I'm going forward with Somewhere, in small chunks, every day.  I guess in a way, it's how I remember/honor those sweethearts.

All that said, tonight we went to Wal-Mart.  Several things made me simply miss them.  That's all.  I'm not mad or bitter.

I just miss my sweethearts.  It's hard to miss someone you never met.  I do though.  I really do.

Voice

Today has been a big mixture.  It's one week since I arrived home from the hospital.  That's a weird feeling.  I still have bruises on my arms. I'm easing into the things pregnancy asked me to put aside for a while. Things like drinking caffiene, not getting dizzy and sushi.  Okay.  So I haven't had sushi yet.  It'll happen.

While it has been a long week, things are starting to feel uncomfortably normal.  I'll be returning to work Monday.  In fact, I went into Staff Day today. I wear normal clothes out. (We all have sweats days.)  I don't have too strict of a list of things on my "don't even" list. Life is awfully closer to normal.

Part of normal for me is watching The Voice.  I love, love, love this show.  I don't really know why. I love singing. Thats part of it. I love how it gets out your feelings in a way that is really hard to compare. I can easily dream of standing up there, pouring out my overflowing soul.   Am I a nerd? Oh definitely. I get hardcore into it. I sit in my living room and in my car... Don't lie. You turn it up for the drive. Anywho, I sit in those scenerios and think what song do I enjoy that also summerizes me? I get so legit into it. Watching it tonight, I started thinking about it again.

Some days, I'm "Feeling Good." That will forever be a favorite.
I have my "The Fighter" moments.  (This one has language in it. Somehow, that didn't mean God didn't use it to give me a message that brought me to tears.)
I had a time as a 19-20 year old where I thought my heart couldn't be anymore broken by a boy. I sobbed my loneliness late at night where God impressed on my heart that tears speak. He didn't need words to understand what my tears said. I melted into that embrace. Thank God for that heartbreak. Therefore, "All Around Me" has a special place as well.
I am reminded of Christ's love everytime I hear "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", a fact that makes me chuckle.

The song that summed up my heart two weekends ago, that one is simple. "10,000 Reasons" by Matt Redman.

It is amazing that God gave us the gift of music.
Here's my question: What is a song that you think suits me?
Better yet.

What is your song?


LYRICS
Feeling Good
The Fighter
All Around Me
Ain't No Mountain High Enough
10,000 Reasons

EXTRAS
32 Flavors
Who You Are
Superhero
All My Tears
I'm Not Alright

The Guy

I've noticed something.  While people do mention him, a lot of times, a husband in this situation gets put off to the side by others in their rush to comfort the wife. Now, in our case, a lot of people have taken time out to make sure Somewhere is okay and to look out for his needs too.  I really love that about our friends and family.

The dad has lost something precious here as well. Somewhere will admit that the thought is true that a woman becomes a mom the moment she learns she's pregnant, the man becomes a father when he first meets his child. That doesn't mean he isn't dreaming as well. Things like watching Star Wars with them for the first time, creating Lego masterpieces, having someone crawl in your lap while you work.

Secondly, while as a woman, my first thought was trying to keep those babies safe, the man, his thoughts are first for whether or not I was in danger.  He has two people on his mind. Somewhere couldn't feel what I felt. He just knew things were not as they should be and he couldn't do much about anything.

The guys feel the need to protect, to be strong, to hold it together. They bear so much, so quietly most of the time, and yet get so forgotten.

Therefore, my advice: pray for the guy as well.  Find out their favorite snack, play a video game with them or just give them a hug.  Again, our circle have done so well with this. This is just my thought on whenever you are dealing with a couple's loss.

He hurts also.

Under

I am not really sure what to say today.

Some have wisely informed me to not try to heal too fast.  Don't push it.  Oddly enough, that was exactly what was on my mind.  A feeling of am I truly being genuine in this?
 I'm not going to try to slow healing either, but, I never want to present false strength.  That would simply be prideful.

This really does hurt.  Tonight, my heart feels so empty with the loss of my sweethearts.  I long for a daughter.  I know there is a chance Somewhere and I will have children later.

I don't understand it all. Some moments I don't understand it at all.

Tonight hurts.

Woman.

I have never really identified with the idea of being called "woman."

 I am totally female and all, heh, it was jut the concept of being called girl, young woman, lady or woman.  I had a hard time thinking of myself as being a woman.

That has ended. Something about going through this has forever altered my mind.  I'm a woman, I won't be going back. I can't explain why. I don't feel more mature necessarily. It's like my soul is deeper. That sounds lame but it's the best way I can say it.

I was on Pinterest today and someone had a Motherhood board and my first thought was I'm just not ready for that.  Then I looked again and it was like something whispered to my heart that pain doesn't make it not beautiful. Motherhood is still a beautiful precious gift. 

I feel like Somewhere and I are grown ups now. He and I were talking about it last night and it's just made us grow up.  That's not a bad thing either. It just is. The world is more serious, the loves deeper, the good is more precious.

I plan to journal this journey for a while.  You'll read, if you continue, about the hurt and the heal.  I just feel that's how I need to do this. I hope none think I am trying to be all woe is me. For one thing, I could never be an entire band. Sorry. Music humor.
My intention is never to wallow.
You are under no obligation to read.
I just hope to find the Phoenix in all of this.

John 10:10

A Long Goodbye

This week has been one of the longest goodbyes of my life.

 If you dare post a single judgemental word on this post, leave the page and do not hit comment. There is no time or place for that.

I hadn't posted on here about it yet, not really sure why, but Somewhere and I found out Aug. 19th that we were indeed pregnant. I couldn't wrap my mind around it and couldn't wait to tell my family.

Right now, it is impossible to delve into all the emotions I felt.

I got the books, smiled, held my hand over my stomach for no reason other than to feel closer. I was never terribly sick, just weary and dizzy.  I stopped drinking coffee (often), I ate hummus like it was the last pack on earth, I muched ginger, heated lunch meat and thought froot loops were incredible.  I daydreamed about tan toes slipping into colorful booties. I wrote a journal, full of my goals for being a mother and what gender we thought she was. (Can you tell my guess?)

I had moments of fear. I had times of prayer where I would beg God to let me pray more than that my sweetheart would be safe and have His arms around them.  That scared me because I wanted my arms around them.  Being a bit of a pessimist though, I fought the fear and released trust to my precious Savior.  I do not regret that for a moment. I don't want to place fear in anyone's heart that trust is ever misplaced in Jesus. In this case, in love, He was preparing me.

I laughed inside when people thought the ideas of twins would scare me. When I wasn't scared, they would jump the number to triplets. In my heart, I had a feeling they weren't wrong with the first
guess.

I went on a trip to visit some dear sistas last weekend. We had fun and they treated me like a frail princess and I loved it.

Sunday I didn't feel totally okay, but, I thought I knew the causes and was relaxed. That evening I went to the ER, and after 11 hours, went back to the house with the diagnosis of a threatened miscarriage. I was 7 and half hours from my Love and a horrid cocktail of anguish and hope. My one happy thought, other than "this isn't over for sure" was this: I was pregnant with twins.  For some reason, that filled me with joy.

Monday, I finally got home and in the arms of my husband. We talked and cried and prayed. We prepared for the worst and hoped for the best.

Tuesday morning, my doctor said it was still a maybe and that she wasn't throwing in the towel. I was to come see her Wednesday. We called Somewhere's parents that evening and told my parents in our living room, along with my grandparents, who already knew. Somewhere had needed an ear as he anxiously awaited my arrival home.

Wednesday's appointment went as well as it could and we went home with very cautious hope. Perhaps this wasn't the end.

Wednesday night went very bad.
I knew it was over and my sweet babies were gone. My heart was broken, my body empty. I clung to Jesus, pleading for strength and wisdom.

We called the doctor above mine and he said as long as I didn't move into physical danger, to wait until morning to come in. I went in and all seemed normal for what I had been through. I thought it was at least over. My body could rest. While my soul was torn, my body was receiving relief.  My mom slept on the couch across from me, watching me through the night. (What would I do without her to rub my face when I am sick? Or Somewhere to hold me and say "Its okay babe, I know" when I cry for what seems like no reason.)

I was wrong about where I was bodily.

Thursday night, things went even worse. I cried and sobbed out not wanting to go back to the hospital to my mom. Then the moment hit where that wasn't an option. I was going. I said "call them. I have to go in." I have rarely been so happy as when I saw the EMTs.  Somewhere followed, arriving at the hospital before us actually.  I asked to see him. He was in shock. I held his hand and reassured him that I was in good hands.  He went back out with his mom, who came down with his dad, to be with us. Thank God for family.

Just about every step you can put a miscarrying woman through, I walked.  I'm not complaining. I was heavily drugged most of the time. I was under very watchful eyes that were doing the best they could for me.
I slept. I cried. I prayed. I smiled at my husband. I held hands. I was wrapped in love.

Finally, Friday afternoon, I was sent in for a d&c. I won't go into details.  Most people say it is hell.  It was such a wonderful gift for me.  I wouldn't have made it safely without it. I slept straight through it.  My sleep dr, as I called her, shared that she had been there five times and now had a beautiful daughter. Then gave me a drug to "make me not care." I told her thank you.


I awoke to family and a feeling of peace.

A peace.

I know some people think God is a crutch.

 I can honestly say, I have no idea how I would be here, emotionally and physically, without Him. It's not a promise of seeing my babies one day, because I don't even know that I will know them there. It's not a belief in a greater plan. It's not any cliche.

It simply is.  He is.

As Joel Goddard would say, I can no sooner explain it than to tell you what strawberries taste like.