Sitting in bed. Child after child coming in my room, climbing on my bed, chatting about something. I'll be honest, I'm not listening. My mind is somewhere else this morning. Trying to smile and keep my tears hidden. It's going to be a long day. Andrew won't be home until at least eleven tonight. I had planned to go to Costco today but the mental image of me breaking down crying in the store with all five kids in tow is a little much. I think I will just stay home. And wait.
I started spotting yesterday and then had a little cramping. This morning it's slowly getting a little worse. I am my constant for one moment and the next I feel my face getting hot and my eyes start to burn. I was telling a friend yesterday, that it's funny, you think you are prepared for these things. You know that the possibility is always there. Lingering. And you tell yourself that if or when it happens, you will be ready. But it comes and you are so shocked by the unexpected time, that in that moment you can't but feel punched. Heart dropping to the floor. Hand going to the mouth. And then just a small prayer, "oh, Lord."
Then the flooding of your mind when you start thinking of all the people who you have told. And you start punishing yourself with thoughts of, "why didn't I just keep it to myself." And the worse, "I have to tell the kids." Heart drops even more. Karigan is going to be so upset. The boys will be fine. They will understand. But Karigan. Oh my sweet little Heart that hurts so deeply. She'll ask questions for months to come. Questions that are always hard to answer.
"Why did God take the baby, mama?"
"Is the baby in heaven and will we see if when we go to heaven?"
"Why did it have to die?"
Questions that will have to asked and answered in the next day or so. Questions that make your heart just hurt and cringe just a little bit. Because honestly, you are asking the same questions to your Father too. Like a child I go to Him each time this happens. I ask why? Even though I already know the answer. He comforts. I feel better until that comfort runs out for a bit. Then I keep going back to my Savior and refilling my cup. Eventually, there will be a time when I look back and I see the big picture. I'll see the way He carried me. The way He was glorified through it and I'll accept it as a Gift. But right now, I'm that little child. Who just fell down. I'm scuffed up and bruised. Still hurting. The wounds are open and cut deep. And until my body tells my heart that it has let go, I'll wait until He can stitch me up. Put the band-aids on. Kiss me and tell me, "it will be alright." I'm holding on to that. Because I know it will come.
But right now. My fingers are on the only thing that will move. Besides the tears that fall so freely and my hand that quickly wipes them away each time another child enters my room.
Yes, it will be a long day. The waiting. The tears. The emotional drain. But I've got to keep going. I have to push forward and pick myself up again and again. I'll make it. I have to. I'm holding on to hope.
"The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away;
Blessed be the name of the Lord.”