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It’s been two weeks since my D&C. Thinking back a week ago I am significantly different at this point than I was then. For one, I’ve been a little angry with God. I keep finding myself asking him why exactly he took my baby. Millions of abortions are conducted, there are teen moms that don’t want their kids, drug and alcohol users that mess their kids up so badly while pregnant that those precious children are never able to function fully, and women who leave their babies in dumpsters, yet I lost my baby. I am not parent of the year but I’m a dang good mom. I wanted this baby. I planned for this baby, tried for it, would have been able to take care of it and give it what it needed. And I am the one who loses her child. I praise God for my happy, healthy children and thank him I didn’t lose one of them or wasn’t farther along. But I just can’t help but to get…frustrated, I guess that’s the word. I just can’t help but to be frustrated with God over his decision. The christian in me sees that he has a bigger picture and that he probably spared us from a child that was said to be severely disabled if carried to term. The momma in me sees that ultrasound picture and remembers the heart beat and aches to have that baby here and doesn’t give a flip if it had any sort of disability. Yea that would take work, but I would take that option in a second. It’s easy to say that though I guess. Having only ever worked briefly with special needs children through Sunday School and substituting, that life doesn’t seem as bad because I’ve never lived it fully….

This week I’ve had the privilege to be the craft teacher for our first graders at Vacation Bible School. Our theme is “Colossal Coaster World”. Looking back months ago when I had heard that theme I had no idea just how fitting it would be for me right now. I am literally an emotional roller coaster. If I am not sobbing in the bath tub, I am feeling down right terrible for acting happy around others. I feel guilty to be happy. Like everyone around is thinking, “Gee look at her being all happy after just losing her baby.” It seems to be one extreme or the other. If I’m not worried about being too cheerful, I’m hearing things like, “you should be thankful for the children you already have”, “you’re having a pity party for yourself”, or “ I’m not sure why you were so attached you were only 11 weeks”, because I’m being too sad. People just have no idea the power their words hold. They can truly make or break you if you let them. Although I feel like I am a tough person and fairly strong, this has made me feel like a basket case. I can’t even see it coming. The first Sunday I went back to church I thought I would feel strong and uplifted through the service. I didn’t even make it to the first 30 minutes of that service. I sat in the bathroom and sobbed. The overwhelming sympathetic looks and “how are you’s” were awful. I wanted to sink in a hole. Not walk down the center aisle of church to find my husband and praise God next to him.

But considering how the first week went I guess I’m better. I am better at holding it together in front of people. I am better while asking God the “why’s”. And I guess I’m better at just coping with it all. I think so at least. Family tells me I’m doing well, but I wonder how exactly people are supposed to cope with this. What exactly is normal? What exactly is too extreme? When does it become a blur of the past, if ever?

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