I've been dreading tomorrow for 5 days.
Real life starts tomorrow.
Our new real life.
We have spent the past 5 days just 'us'. We've slept in and eaten out. We haven't spent one second as anything but 'us'. Joey's arms have been a few feet away from me every minute of the day... his shoulder only inches from me every morning and every night. He's been my rock. When waves of sadness hit, we're both there and one of us can be strong.
Or not.... and that's ok, too.
We've read and wept over every comment, email, text, and phone call, every flower. We've soaked in each word of encouragement and have welcomed every thought and prayer. We stand amazed at the army of people who have surrounded us every second of one of the worst things we have ever been through. We know we wouldn't make it through this without them... without you.
We've hugged our H2. We've loved them and have spent time memorizing each quirk and appreciating every moment we have been given with them.
We've missed our #3.
This pain? We aren't built for this kind of pain. It's cruel.
Blessings always come out of despair.... that's true.
But right now? This feels like anything but a blessing.
A curse? Yeah, maybe. Today.
I don't want to wake up alone, knowing that Joey's new reality has already started. I don't want to roll over and not see the box of saltines that I needed in order to get out of bed every day for 8 weeks. I don't want to make breakfast and get the kids dressed. I don't want to walk into a doctor's office and have to pretend that everything is ok... our weekend was wonderful... the weather is beautiful... we're so happy it's a 4-day week. I don't want to fear with everything in me that our #3 will be forgotten when life starts again.
I've had only 5 days of practice and I can't 'do' this new life by myself yet... without Joey a few feet from me... outside of the bubble that has just been 'us'...
without my #3.
The pain doesn't come and go... it's always there. It builds over time ... a couple hours, over night, or sometimes a day... and when you finally break, there isn't a reason. There's no distraction big enough and no time small enough. Your heart can only handle so much pretending. And that's exactly what it is....
Pretending that you're ok.... or even that you're gonna be.
Pretending that greater blessings will come out of this pain... because you'd trade every single blessing in the world for the one you lost.
Pretending that God will use this for His glory... because truthfully, His glory isn't shining through the despair right now.
Pretending that you trust that His plan is better than your own... because this wasn't your plan to begin with and that makes it feel like a cruel joke.
Pretending that time heals all wounds... because nothing... I mean nothing, can heal this kind of loss.... this kind of wound.
Moments come when I have to force myself out of well, myself. I have to spend a moment outside of my pain and confusion and disappointment. I have to fight everything in me that wants to resent my Jesus and scream at Him for making the one thing I have ever wanted, being a Mommy, such a painful process each time.
I have to step away and trust all that I know....
I will be ok.
Blessings will come out of this pain.
God will use this for His glory.
His plan is better than my own.
And time, though it won't take the pain away, will make it easier to bear.
The verses, His promises, the truth we've witnessed that comes from His promises...
Those things I know in my heart.
I'll be pretending them through my day.