Broken

On this day last year I was curled in a ball crying out to God, "How could you let me go through this? When I found out I was pregnant I praised you! You told me that you were restoring the years the locust had eaten. How is this restoration God? I begged you to let me keep this baby because I can't possibly survive one more thing...and here I am losing the blessing I gave you glory for, how can you take away the gift you just gave me???"

And here I find myself again only tonight I am crying out for so much more. Last year on this day I was experiencing a miscarriage. I felt so abandoned, so alone and broken. Tonight I cry because I lost that child I never felt move, who was only a dream. I cry because I bonded with Audrey and lost her too. I cry because people have greatly disappointed me today, including God. Yeah, God and two of the most important people in my life. One seems to avoid the topic and the other can't offer me any comfort and changed the subject when I needed comfort tonight. As for God, I wouldn't know where to begin or end except he knew that this anniversary would fall today and that my period would arrive, so how is that my husband is outta town for work and I am all alone- just like last year! While my husband worked my world was crashing down on me!

I feel so broken! There is no glue that can fix me.

Also, little did I know but this day last year my aunt was in terrible pain, suffering and barely surviving what would be her last days as she died March 31st. My mom called me a few days after the miscarriage to say that my Aunt Penny was going into the hospital.

I went to see my uncle today and he- like me is riding the waves of grief. He was brave enough to say Audrey's name and more than once. We laughed together and more importantly cried together. I left feeling like at least one person I can see and feel in person understands what I need. I didn't set out so that he could comfort me, quite the contrary as I think of him and miss my aunt often.

I keep asking God to show me whether our miscarried child was a boy or a girl. Nothing, Nada, zilch. I'd like to give him or her a name instead of saying "the miscarriage," this disappoints me too-about God.

Tonight I feel alone and broken.

I would cry more, but right now I am looking at a pile of tissues that is becoming another part of my new normal, a huge ball of mess that hold all the snot I am able to produce for one day. My eyeballs feel like fire, my head like a bomb on it's last few ticks, my sinuses hurt when I walk and I imagine myself in a million pieces all over the floor and I just don't care. I am a broken mess. To add injury to insult, one of my dogs just farted and the stench just slapped me like a tennis racket in the face..... It's okay if you're laughing now because I am!

This might call for a painting.