Happy to be sick

Each morning I barely crawl out of bed. I'm tired. So tired. I ache. I have pains. I get sick, so sick feeling, especially at night. On my way home from work I can barely keep my eyes open and need a nap when I walk in the door. But all of those don't matter. None. I am happy with each. Happy.  Glad for them. The day I lost Gabbie I remember feeling good. Better than good. I wasn't sick, I wasn't tired. I didn't know until later that she was gone. I didn't know that me feeling good was a sign that she was gone, that I didn't have her anymore. I would be so sick every single day with this sweet baby if it meant that it comes home with me. I will not complain. I find it hard to smile, though I am so happy to try again. At any moment, on any day I could feel wonderful and then my world could come crashing down around me. Again. And in darkness I could fall to my knees and wonder why. I'm hesitant. I'd call it a waiting game but this is no game.    I can honestly say that in the last year and a half I have found myself on my knees in tears or in prayer more times than than in the rest of my life combined. But we have no control and all I can do is pray that someone hears my desperate prayers and hope that fate will be kind.