Nausea and Worry

Since my husband and I embarked on this journey of pregnancy and child rearing way back in 2007 - I've battled. It wasn't over getting fat or body changes or anything like that...but just a general fear of the unknown. We lost our first baby in December 2007, which means as of this past week it's been 6 years. It's still strange and painful to me that if that baby would have been born - we'd have a 5 1/2 year old right now. It was a June due date - just as the child I currently carry has. Maybe that's why I'm battling with worry MORE with this pregnancy.

A few months ago a sweet gal I know suffered a loss at 14 weeks which is where I am on this very day. The start of a new trimester and yet I still find my self surrendering fears to the LORD almost daily. You would think that after 6 years and two healthy pregnancies it would be easier. It's not. But I thank the Lord for this gift of empathy and sensitivity and I pray that I can continue to use my past experience to bless and encourage other Mom's who have to go through it. Nothing is wasted with our God!

14 weeks today and I feel just about as nauseated as I did 7 weeks ago, which is strange to me. My normal pregnancy routine was to be sick about 6 weeks, then magically better. Aka: Second Tri. This time it's SO SO different. I'm starting to believe that my 31 year old body + 2 children + busy ministry lifestyle = continued sickness contribution. Anyone wanna scientifically verify that? That, and, I can't seem to keep nutrition at the forefront this time. Yesterday it was 5:30pm and it dawned on me all I had eaten that whole day was 1 cake doughnut and a bowl of rice. Folks, that doesn't help anyone. But, slowly, the ol' appetite is returning and once I go grocery shopping I plan to buckle down and get serious. I promise.

There have been food aversions aplenty this time around and only a few things that I really want alll the time - when I am feeling up to eating.

- Watermelon & citrus fruits, I cannot get enough.
- Fancy breads (artisan). And thanks to my dear friend, Emily, I got to majorly indulge in some amazing Focaccia the other day. Who doesn't love a good crunch on the outside, buttery, herby, delicious bread?! Oh man, now I want more. And, stock in Panera so I can have bread anytime...
- Aldi's Cranberry Almond Chicken salad: (say what?!)

This is the one that doesn't make any sense to me. First, it has meat in it (gag), second, it's fruit in a salad... which I normally don't enjoy, third, Mayo based. All things I normally just pass up. But for some reason - that salad with hard crackers feels like a banquet. Don't even read the nutrition label, it's fatty goodness in a plastic bowl. :)
- Cold, Cold, water. I'm not one of those momma's who enjoys drinking 9 gallons a day for my health. I normally have to force myself to finish one camelbak a day. (tisk, tisk) Lately, however, I cannot get enough. 

It's almost 4pm and just writing about that made me queasy. Ha! Might need to go sneak some more watermelon out of my fridge. Thankful for the sickness today - and praying the Lord continues to sustain. :)

Loss

I've been struggling the last few days to come up with words on how I'm feeling. I still don't know how to wrap my heart and brain around some things... and I keep having this inward battle - fighting for truth. Ever go through something like that? A week ago is when it all started... I noticed some sympathy notes on a friend from college fb page. I hesistated to look because at first, honestly, I didn't think I could handle "the knowing". You see, I knew she was pregnant - just a few weeks beyond me. But with trembling hands I clicked.

Agony. Their baby girl was gone. She was diagnosed with Potter Syndrome a few weeks prior and was now...gone. At 32 weeks. Sitting alone at my computer feeling my own little unborn squirm and move - I lost it. I burst out in an angry and hurting cry - though I'm sure nothing compared to how this little ones momma must have cried. And is crying still. Her own flesh. Their own blend of life...gone, in a moment.

I couldn't breathe. The "what if's" started and I felt like I was suffocating. Then, I got a grip, and felt a wave a grief wash over me all over again as I remembered this sweet friend from college. We lived in the same dorm. She had life. She was beautiful. She was artistic and fun. There's no way she would have had this plan for her life... if we were in charge of the planning.

"God" I cried. "Why?" and then I just sat there. The illumination from my computer screen bouncing off the tears that streamed down. And the thing is... I know too much. I know my theology on God and WHO He is and What He does. I know scripture. I know truth. But its in those moments - the sharp, grasping, squeezing ones - that my brain goes numb and my heart sways. Because instead of this person just being another sad story...another one of those, "oh, can you imagine?!" type deals that you don't really know but you feel sad about for 2 seconds...this one is staying with me. It's personal. I KNOW this girl. I KNOW the man she married. And here I sit looking at pictures of her precious baby girl who is now in the arms of Jesus... instead of theirs. Which, in our Christian circles is so comforting to talk about. But when its YOU, that comfort isn't always immediate. Truth be told, sometimes it takes years.

I can't help but connect. And maybe this is why we are commanded to "weep with those who weep". And maybe this is why I lost my own little one those few years ago. To feel...again. To remember. Though I never held mine at a developed 32 weeks - I held mine in different ways only a mother could understand. I remember taking the "tissue", as they called it, in to the pathology lab. I remember the dull ache in my soul as I handed over the part of me I had lost...to a lab worker wearing white rubber gloves, who had no idea how important this little piece of life was. Do you know what it feels like to carry your unborn in a plastic bag?! An 8 week grown tiny life whose heart stopped. Who you never get to meet. Who you will always, always, always wonder about. And yet - when you look at your growing, healthy, earthly existing 2 year old, you think... "So, what is her plan?" instead. Bittersweet is a horrible word for those moments.

The other night at my teen bible study one of my girls surprised me by answering a question on God's sovereignty. It blew. my. mind. I had to swallow hard and blink fast to keep going. Or I knew what would follow...

"Not to us, LORD, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness. Why do the nations say, “Where is their God?” Our God is in heaven; he does whatever pleases him." Psalm 115:1-3

My God. My sovereign, omniscient, holy God has a plan. It's not something He makes up as He goes. And more then the plan... His Love. His faithfulness. His all encompassing protection and guidance. It's a package deal. We don't understand and maybe that's where Faith comes in. When we just have to weep, mourn... and then get on with it knowing that "To God be the Glory" - even though we don't totally understand that. Loss is something I'll never be comfortable with. And I know that in my "current condition" it's wise to guard my eyes and heart from things. But, honestly, I'm so thankful to GOD for allowing me to mourn all these miles away with a fellow school mate. I'm thankful for the way God magnifies the blessings in my life and reminds me that although there is no guarantee in some things... eternity with Him is for sure.

And, I have to wonder...as my brain always does... Why? Why allow me to see and feel this now? The mystery is almost too much for me.

But, life goes on, painfully. And even today I'll go to the local hospital and meet two brand new babies. Full term babies. Born healthy and happy, being held by mommies and daddies. And my heart will sting and burn for my friend - but, on the other hand - what a comfort, again, to remember just WHO is in charge. I can smile that way. Life is weird. Life is beautiful.

Passing on to life

We got a text late lastnight to let us know one of our Brothers in the Lord went to be with his Jesus. Why does it seem that if he were older it wouldn't be as painful?

We hardly knew this man. But, from what we witnessed just in these last few months... He loved his God, he loved his wife and loved his two kids. His story of battling cancer with grace and God's strength is admirable. Even up to the end he found reason to praise....

Josiah Johnson - enjoy your Jesus.

On the tree

This morning as I was playing with Ava near the Christmas tree - I got all sentimental, as I normally do, as I noticed each of the ornaments we have on our 3 ft tree. Every ornament has been a gift, something homemade, or simply something that has great value to us. Nothing has been expensive or put on there without thought and this includes the actual tree, too.

Two Christmases ago I felt like my world was falling apart. You can read about that in earlier blog posts from 2007...but to sum it all up... I had miscarried Dec. 3rd and really had no joy about Christmas or traveling to see family or anything. We had an 18 hour drive to IA coming up to see Brad's family, I was in physical and mental/spiritual pain and I just wanted this whole Christmas thing to go away. I'm sure Brad was completely bewildered with what to do with me. While he was feeling pain of our loss as well, its different for guys, obviously. My hormones and emotions felt so out of control - I cried a lot and our house def. did not have any signs of "Christmas Cheer" by way of decorations, music or anything. Looking back... I know that was okay. It was ok to mourn and grieve, and I also now know how much Brad supported ALL of that time in our lives. Love him! Anyway, that Christmas will always been very tender and dear to me. Despite our pain... Brad snuck out one night and purchased this little 3 ft plastic Christmas tree. He knew how badly I was hurting and how torn I felt about it being Christmas but balancing this pain, too. So, this tree was set up and we started to decorate it. We only had a few ornaments, mostly, "Our first Christmas" themed ones, but...it was prelit and beautiful. I remember once we finished how I just sat there in front of it like a child and sobbed. Brad sat with me, quietly, and I just let his love for me (and Christ's) heal my soul. I would survive.

Fast forward one year later. Ava's original due date was Dec. 3rd. How WEIRD is that?! But, after another ultrasound they moved her to the 9th...and she still didn't come til the 16th anyway, but... still, cool story. That year was SO dramatically different. We had gone from extreme loss to extreme gain. I remember bringing Ava home and that little 3 ft tree just stood there shining...with our ornaments on it, and of course, I sobbed again. I think I always will. These tears were a combination of memories past and memories in the making. I held my little bundle of baby girl one night sitting in front of it - remembering and experiencing God's grace and mercy in our lives. We hung some "baby's first Christmas" ornaments up and just reveled in the glory of our JUST God. I had survived, and I would still.

All this to say - this tree, and the ornaments on it are so special to me. Many people make out trees to be a negative Christmas thing, and for some it probably is a distraction from the REAL reason for Christmas, being Christ himself. But for us, for me, this tree represents Christ in our lives. It represents all of the grace He has shown us, the bounty and even the loss we experience during our walk with Him. This morning I felt overwhelmed and bathed in the Love of my Heavenly Father. Looking at each ornament, and holding my almost 1 year old at the same time... this walk is not always easy, but it is always good. On my tree, I guess you could say, I wear my heart. :)

**answered prayers**

It was one of those fall days where everything seemed perfect.
The leaves had just exploded into shades of yellow, orange and red.

Wind passing by us was crisp.

Life was at its peak of pleasure as we gazed at all of creation shining before us.

You could smell the trees.

You could feel the sigh of earth as it relaxed in the stillness.
And that's how we felt...still.

I'm discovering the relationship of mother/daughter.
Although always a daughter... this is my first shot at the other side.
I'm overwhelmed with responsibilty.
I'm captivated with love.
I'm eager for the future but hesistant to let go of the now.
My daughter challenges me.
I'm challenged to love.
I'm challenged to try.
I'm challenged to live.

While I try not to live in my past
This time of year always brings a bit of pain for me.

It was around this time two years ago that we found out we were expecting our first baby.
It was around this time two years ago that we started to tell our families...
It was around this time two years ago that our precious child went to Heaven,
before we even said hello.
I don't think I'll ever forget.
And, that's ok with me.

God, in His sovereignty gave me my Ava Edyn.
Because, you see... it was this time last year that I was carrying her.
It was this time last year that I felt her kicks, jabs and pokes in my belly.
It was this time last year that my heart had started healing
and my hope restored.
It was this time last year that the nursery was finished, crib was set up and we waited.
While my daughter is not my idol.
She is my answer to prayer.
She is my reminder that God hasn't forgotten and He never will.
And when I think about baby #1,
I can't help but wonder what Ava's ultimate purpose is...
why she was so special to be allowed to come to me.
To hold, to kiss, to love.

It was a perfect fall day.
It was a perfect reminder.

(All photos by: Katie Swanson, www.katieswansonphotography.com)

Swansonphotography@live.com

june 24, 2008

today was my due date...
i remember the words so clearly at our first appointment last fall... "looks like you'll be due on june 24".

we left the hospital thrilled
we called our parents
we called our friends

we lost it two months later.

today was my due date... and while I am carrying another... I'll never forget that first conceived child that wove its way into my heart.

we think of you
we loved you
the pain doesn't go away

I am so ready for Spring

I've got all my spring/summer shoes out...

seasonal clothes are now hung in the closet...

windows have been left open twice...

now all we need is consistent warmth. I had a weird flu-like thing for 24 hours yesterday and it was horrible. It was the kind of sick where you wonder if you will recover. I rarely get sick, but when I do it feels like armeggedon is happening inside of me. To top off that sad news - it was 68 degrees yesterday - whilst I wilted away on the couch, inside!!! 68!!!

This morning I got an email from a gal my age who lives in Florida. She has recently gone through a miscarriage in her 12th week of pregnancy and wanted some answers. My mother in law connected us - and it's just these kinds of opportunities that help me to see why and how the Lord uses the worst situations for his glory. It was oddly comforting to me to walk through this pain with her - relive my experience and give advice on how to "survive" really. She has had a horrible experience with Dr's in Florida - they have been unkind, humilated her and even made her feel bad about this loss. It made me feel enraged!!! This poor girl has gone through this alone -her husband was away for military reasoning, she doesn't live by family and doesn't seem to have close friends. I cannot imagine. Yet, through all of that - she seems so positive and so strong. While she's struggling, she's been an encouragement to me. God, please heal Maria.

Obviously, I'm random today.

My dear friend Janice came up last weekend. It was such a comfort and joy to see her! She was always my very strong friend in College. She is one of those women who remind me of an "empowering women" poster or something. She was a counseling major and always knew what I was thinking before I could say it. Jan is precious to me. She and her husband are leaving for the west coast here before too long, and while we haven't seen each other TONS I'm fearful that we might never cross paths again. (especially if American Airlines keeps up....) She took this pic of Brad and I, and I just love it...

Waiting on the Lord

So, if you are a man... maybe, don't read this blog entry. If you are a woman, a sympathetic woman - read on.

I'm 4 days late. I'm two negative pregnancy tests late. Obviously, after being one day late I was elated thinking that the Lord had blessed us with another child... just as I had been praying. So I suited up and headed to my local Rite Aid and purchased the infamous pink box... let the testing begin. Now, four days later...and two "no go" tests, I'm confused and wondering what's going on. I called my OB nurse who helped me through my miscarriage in November and she was not that helpful. Told me not to be worried until you have three consecutive months of missed cycles. THREE MONTHS!!! I've never been a day past normal in my life...

Is there such a thing as delayed ovulation? Because, I'm pretty sure that happend to me this month. I'm pretty sure I ovulated like 4 days before I was supposed to start my period. Which, again, not normal for me - and has never happened before. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME??! If I had delayed ovulation...it could take another 2 weeks before either a period or positive test could turn out. TWO WEEKS!!!! That would put me in the day 45ish zone.... I've never been like that. Hmmm... this truly is the curse at its finest.

I'm working on memorizing Matthew 7. The chapter that discussed our needs... and how God will meet them.... our NEEDS. Is being pregnant and having a family a need? Because for my entire life I have been convinced that it is... I need to serve the Lord with a family. I need to give my husband children and carry on his name... I need to fulfill the role that women were intended for. Maybe someday I'll look back at all of this and get a good laugh at myself. But for now... I'm just waiting on the Lord and his timing - because it is perfect, and he IS GOOD.

And this.... is a dream.... a dream that I just can't shake. Something I desire so much that sometimes I can almost feel it.

A weird fact of life

Troy, Ohio. Home of many people I'm sure...
Place of happiness, lots of schools, churches, community events...

As I drove around the town with my husband, I commented that it was just a homey place to be. People were outside walking the sidewalks, they had a goodwill store, it was a typical "welcome to America" town. Brad got nostalgic as we drove around his old block - we took pictures of the street signs and his old house, school, etc. He showed me the house he got saved at one summer, and the hill his dad took him down on his bike when he was a little guy, too scared to go alone - a memory he treasures.

Then we rounded the hill and came upon a huge grave yard. My heart sunk. We CAN'T be going in there! Since childhood I've struggled with facing and being around death. I've only just lost my great - grandparents, and besides the loss of my child, I don't experience death often. I'm uncomfortable with mourning... I'm shy around those who lose loved ones... and I'm not proud of that - but I'm so immature when it comes to this stuff. My heart goes into overdrive, I lose my breath and feel all shaky.

We follow a path through this grave yard, and there are assorted grave stones all different shapes and sizes and colors - some were beautiful, outlandish designs of angels and Mary figurines, while others were simple stones with a name and date. My eyes went from name to name, date to date, some were children - others middle aged, and many lived long lives. I tried to picture each person in my mind. What did they look like? What was their life story? Then out of the corner of my eye... I see why we are here. Pausley. Two Pausleys. Brad parks the car and I sat frozen in the passenger seat - I can't move. I'm starring at the graves with my last name on them. I wanted so badly to hop out and support my husband as he spent a few minutes paying respect to his grandparents, people I never met, but hear so much about. He arranged the silk flowers someone had placed on their stone, then he patted away the snow and made the spot look more tidy and cared for. He knelt down and put his hand on the top of the grave - I saw him mouth something then turn back to me and smile. He's so strong. I want to be like him.

As we pulled away, I'm trying so hard to hold back the tears - my throat hurts as I try. I end up weeping and apologizing that I couldn't be out there with him, he understands...always understands me. We have a quiet moment then follow the path to the exit. As we are leaving we drive past an elderly woman who is sitting in her car looking out the window at a grave. Was this her husband recently buried? A son lost years ago much too early? A sister? Parent? I couldn't help but watch her as she layed her head on her hand and just watched the grave.... she seemed so at peace, so calm and accepting of her situation. I tucked this picture into my brain and hope to never forget it. Death...

Thinking about Mom

I downloaded my pictures from this past Thanksgiving today. It was good/weird to look through pictures of smiling faces that i loved so much - part of the weirdness for me comes from the fact that some of those extra smiles were for the grandchild, great-grandchild, cousin, etc. they hadn't lost yet. But, I try not play those mind games with myself. What's done is done and the Lord still sits on the throne.

During Thanksgiving I was able to spend the day with my Aunt Kim and cousin Bailie - two people that I love very much. Bailie, since she was born has been more like a little sister then a cousin, my mom baby sat her in our house from age 2 till basically now. They lived right next door all through my highschool years, and we always did everything together - sometimes it annoyed me, just like sisters would feel, but now I look back and what precious memories we have. Time has pressed on and now it's 2007 - Bailie is obviously no longer 2, but a stunning 13 year old right on the verge of exploding into a beautiful, intelligent, lovely young woman. Kim has moved on from her divorce years ago and is now engaged again - life changes, and it has for these two women. Anyway, Thanksgiving day while everyone was bustling around and busy with this and that- I just sat back and watched Kim and Bailie in their mother/daughter roles... and soaked it in. Was I really 13 once? Did my mom and I have that mysterious relationship like I see them having now? I loved watching them pal around. Kim would tickle her, Bailie would sass something smart, Kim would give the "watch it" look, then back to tickling and hugging and loving, only such as mothers and daughters can do. I couldn't take my eyes off of them.

After our large meal, sure enough - they gravitate towards each other and end up goofing off on the couch. Although she won't admit it now - Bailie needs these times with her mom. She needs the joking, laughing, hugging - this is what will mold her into what she is to become. These are the moments that will ground her for life.

Even when I was taking these pictures I could hear her saying "ew, don't take this picture" and so on - but I know that someday she'll see it and it will feel good to see it.

Watching them makes me love my mom more. My mom is amazing. She's intelligent - graduated from college and now working in her chosen medical field. She's wise, patient, understanding, compassionate to people and animals, diligent (honors student), creative - making everything from blankets to clothes to greeting cards. My mom is amazing. When I watch Bailie and Kim it takes me back to being that age, having the on again off again fights about nothing but teenage hormone inspired things, then crying together or going shopping to get away from the boys.

On Nov. 26th when I lost my baby - the first person I called was mom. She cried with me out loud right at her work - she didn't care who was watching or what looks she might get. She hurt with me and for me, and because of that I am healing. It's because of WHO she is that I have become who I am. She has taught me to love, to be patient, to succeed, to be creative, to laugh in the difficult times - and to take everything with the proverbial "grain of salt". Mom and Kim are sisters - Bailie and I are cousins - but it's amazing how close and the same we are. We all have dark brown eyes, brown hair, similar body shapes, identical food tastes, we enjoy the sames jokes and types of entertainment. We are family. When Bailie was a baby I used to pretend she was mine - when she was toddler and we would go somewhere we would pretend she was my baby sister and she loved that game - and I loved it, even if I didn't admit it then.

I'm kind of babbling today - I guess the whole point is, now that I'm 25 it's like the Lord has dumped 100 more reasons to be thankful for my mom - the women who brought me into this world and loves me unconditionally everyday. I love you Marmie - I always will.

And now the precious days

The waiting. Sometimes lately I've felt like I was a character in a movie, that this isn't my reality. I'm simply portraying what could happen to those who love the Lord. My books on grieving say that I would come to this point - and that its healthy. The truth is, I feel wonderful. My body is healing and as far as I know almost back to "normal". Mentally, I feel strong and level headed. I'm thinking clearly and realistically (besides my moments of thinking its all still a nightmere).

I'm calling these weeks my "precious days" because there has been such an intimacy in my life that I've never felt before. I feel so close to my husband. Sometimes we'll have the same thought at the same time and that feels fantastic. I feel so aware of my humanity and as a result feel my need for a savior so strongly. I wake up in the morning aware of my humanity, each time I touch my stomach and remember what is no longer there - in the afternoons when I start to feel down, in the evenings when I forget to cry and its only been a few weeks since I said goodbye to my baby. I'm human, I hurt...but I also heal. What a sweet release to lay it all at my God's feet - that I don't have to bear this alone. What a precious time to be vulnerable, to feel, to ache, to inch that much closer to an understanding - and yet remain far enough away that I still have that hope and expectation.

Each night I lay awake in silence - each night I ask the same questions - I think the same thoughts -I toss and turn until finally I recite some scripture about trust then drift off. The bad dreams are gone, the soaked pillow is no more, the holding onto Brad until I cried myself asleep is over. And I think to myself "how is this possible"? How has my mourning changed to Joy already - part of me wants the tears back, it felt so good to mourn because it made it real. Why do I feel so strong already? Why do I feel like I'm getting "over" this?

Yesterday in Sunday school we did a word study on the word "trust". I wasn't anxious to look it up because that means I would have to hear it again... trust. Trust - "to enjoy confidence", "faith", "assurance in....". Do you understand that the Lord IS hearing my prayers. Do you understand, could you relate to knowing what the "peace that passes all understanding" feels like?

I was convicted the other day, my first conviction post-miscarriage. It hit me hard, and I wasn't ready for it, but that never matters no matter how you feel. Paul challenged people in 1 Cor to not grieve as those who have no hope. WOW. I...Have...Hope. It may not be the hope that I'll have children and it may not be the hope that my every want and desire will be met - but I have Hope in eternity. I haven't swallowed it quite yet - but I'm still chewing.

Last night before Brad dozed off we had a moment of pillow talk. I have come to treasure those few moments before he falls asleep - where I can ask all of my theological questions and pour out every ounce of confusion on him. He's so calm. He's so sure. I value my husband and I value his wisdom. Knowing that God intended these late night conversations - I value him even more now. Every night I ask him, but last night I asked in a new way - searching, almost.

"Bradley", I say, "God tells us to ask without doubting". "yes" Brad says. "Bradley", I say again, "he also tells us to delight in him and that he WILL give us the desire of our hearts". "yep" he says again. "Bradley, I'm asking without doubting and delighting in him. Will he give us a family?" Silence. Then all too soon... I realize it's not for him to answer. And I realize...he's falling asleep. Father God - I know you see my heart and my desires. Lord, I feel like I'm begging. I DO have hope! Hope in heaven, hope in a changed life, hope in a family someday...

Glorious New Creation

We'll never know if it was a little girl or precious boy, we'll never know if the eyes were dark brown like me or sky blue like Bradley's. We'll never tickle its tiny toes or kiss its perfect cheeks. I'll never look over every body part to reassure myself that everything is in place and wonderful. We won't smell the new baby smell or feel the exhaustion from this baby and sleepless nights comforting a new cry. My baby, the one I carried these last 10 weeks will never call me mommy here on earth. Monday, Nov. 26th will be burnt into my mind as I remember sitting in that drab colored office, feeling numb and angry and forgotten as the doctor told me my baby was dead - or medically speaking "we aren't finding a heart beat". We sobbed, we cried out, we held on to each other. Then... we laughed. We laughed because no matter what our hope is built on something else, and we knew from the moment of that horrible news... that God was doing something. Something big... it HAD to be big in order for the Lord to take the very thing that we wanted more then anything. I wanted... Brad wanted... our parents wanted... While millions of women are killing their babies - we were grieving for one we couldn't hold on to tight enough. The thought makes me sick.

Grief. Sorrow. Pain. Sadness. Vulnerable. Angry. Frustrated. Numb. Excited. What should we think and what should we feel? Prayer. meditation. sleep. And then... THE WORD OF GOD reminded me, even though I didn't want to hear it and sometimes I still battle.

"For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth. And the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind."

Then... "No more shall an infant from there live but a few days...for the child shall die one hundred years old..."

I don't want to believe. I believe. I don't want to accept. I accept. I don't want to cry anymore. I cry. Talk to my sisters, talk to my mom, talk to my husband. Talk... to God? Pour out my heart, pour out my tears. God IS Good. Though I don't see it now, I KNOW it.

"Create in me a clean heart O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Cast me not away from your presence oh Lord, and take not thy holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me THE JOY of my salvation...."