Perhaps
the problem for me is the lack of control.
You live your whole life thinking that you are making decisions and
choices that set your life rolling down a specific path. Ultimately, however, you have no
control. I have no control. We decided we wanted to have another
baby. Planned out how things would be
tight with daycare expenses being greater and life being just a little more
hectic. We were okay with it. Wanted the heartache and joy of seeing another
little person that was a perfect makeup of us interacting with the girls and
making our lives just that much richer.
We thought, we planned, I grew.
No
matter how much we planned and controlled, we had none. It was all a deception of sorts. He said yes you can plan, yes you can make
choices, yes you can feel that you are the maker of your destiny, but I make
the ultimate decision, and that decision is that you will not have another baby
right now. He gave no reasons. And I must live off faith.
The weeks
have spun so far out of control that I am dizzy, exhausted and out of sorts,
lost. I became victim to circumstance
and my world starting spinning on April 2 with a car accident, and an overnight
stay in the hospital, concerns about the baby and me, then stress about the
car. April 25th was the worst day ever in my life. “Is she okay?” was followed by the eternally
long 2 seconds before the “no, I’m sorry” that crushed my heart in its
finality. I was dependent on an answer that I had no control over and couldn’t
have seen coming at me had I had a telescope; so far from outer space, it flew at
us like a not-so-mini Armageddon and rocked me to my soul. April 27th
meant telling my 8 year old daughter that there’d be no baby coming home and
not having a reason as to why. May 1st
I woke to my alarm set weeks before and forgotten about to get me moving for my
scheduled c-section to birth my baby girl that would never be. May 2nd, funeral, knelt down in
front of her little urn I crumbled. Babies
shouldn’t go to heaven before their parents.
Babies shouldn’t be your guardian angel. Babies shouldn’t sleep
forever. Babies, babies shouldn’t leave too
soon. More finality, less control. May 8th, a due date that was
controlled and then snatched away again.
A minute, an hour, a day, breathe in, she’s gone. A day, a week, two weeks, three, still gone,
hold that breath, feel it in your lungs. Wednesday I will have to mark the days by a
month and more. Still she’s gone. Still I hurt.
Forever? It is likely. Less?
Probably. I cry less already but only on
the outside, only for the world. Inside
it’s still broken, that part of my heart that had been prepared for her, opened
for her is now dark and sad and lonely.
And I have no control over when it’ll feel better.
He
controls; I must have faith. He heals? I must have faith. Faith makes me angry and yet it's all I have to create hope with. I have no control.
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