Ramblings of My Heart and Soul

***Updated to add... I had a good cry and considered deleting the post, but I need to leave it to show myself that the bad days will come and that's okay, I'll get through. If you don't want to read my rant and possibly be very offended, you should stop here.



Today should have been her first birthday.

Lots of toys and dresses, family all around, first taste of cake and pink icing.

I should be finding the perfect dress for the Child Dedication Service next Sunday.

I am really not wallowing everyday, but little things like the dedication announcement throw me for a loop. Grief at 16 months is not what I would have imagined. Most times it is a dull ache and yet in an instant I am pierced through. It isn't so much that she is not here--it's that there is no one here. Raelyn is safe in Heaven's arms and I know that I will see her again, but I cannot fathom that 14 months of nothing-ness have passed. I know that it is unlikely that Raelyn would have made it to her first birthday, but she should have had a younger sibling by now. It could be so much worse. I know so many of you have had miscarriages that compound your loss or have been told that there is no hope for more children. I cannot imagine what you ladies are going through. I only know my personal struggles and for me, (please forgive me for what I am about to say), the nothing-ness is killing me. No answers, no alternatives to the plan. I am seeking help, but they can't even read my chart before speaking with me so that the nurse knows not to sound so cheery when she says "negative". I hate waiting for nothing. I hate planning my life around those never-ending two weeks. I hate that I am so angry at my own circumstances when there are so many other things that could go wrong. I hate that I can't even articulate my own feelings without sounding like a whiny child. I am angry that with all the technology in this world, doctors can't find a way to give us all what we really want. I hate that I can't even talk about my feelings and hunches and what might be going on at any given point because I don't want to get my husband's hopes up. I hate seeing him crushed month after month. I hate that I let my own hopes get up, only to drown again. I hate that relying on God is so hard sometimes.

I know I said in my last post that I was better and that I had some perspective on my own life and mortality, but... living with loss is a daily struggle to find the good, and some days, most days, I fail.