I was on the phone with Amy this morning, and she asked how she could pray for me. Knowing that she already knows all my stuff and all the things that bother me, I simply said, “The sadness.”

When I said those words, it brought to mind a movie from my childhood. I’m sure most of you have seen The Neverending Story, right?

Well, in the movie the childlike empress

is weakened and close to death by the approach of The Nothing

which is taking over all of Fantasia. Unable to do anything in her own defense against The Nothing, the childlike empress depends on a hero from another world

to save her and all that is dear to her.

In a rush of images and memories from a childhood movie, I had a nice representation of my situation. I am tired and weak, unable to resist The Sadness that is steadily moving across my heart, hiding what I love, and I must depend on a Hero from another world to come to my rescue.

Silly as my illustration might be, my sadness seemed to be personified in my recollection of The Nothing and almost seems like an actual force that can be fought. In the movie, the young hero had to scream out over the raging storm the new name he gave the childlike empress to save her and all she loved. I’m waiting expectantly for my Hero to save the day…to call my name over the deafening storm and rebuild my devastated world.

I need a Hero.

It’s been a long time since I blogged. I guess I’ve been kind of checked out for a lot of the time, but I’ve had some other things going on as well. I warn you ahead of time that this post is not going to be very good. It’s just to catch you up.

First of all, thank you to everyone who has sent me a card or an email. Thanks for the phone calls. Thank you to my sweet church family who brought us meals, and thank you to my dear, sweet friend, Heather, who sent me flowers.

A week ago today, I had to have a D&C. I guess when I miscarried, there was still some stuff left behind. So, I went in for surgery Monday morning. My best friend, Amy, came to visit with her kids the prior Wednesday, and was supposed to leave for home on Monday morning. When they scheduled the D&C for Monday, Amy changed her plans to leave later so she could go to the hospital with me. I was very thankful that God worked out the timing for Amy to be there with me. My mom watched all five of our kids for us. Thanks, Mom.

Chris worked the previous night, and didn’t go to the hospital when I did. He got a few hours of sleep during the time it took for me to get checked in and stuff. Amy Jo was with me for the couple of hours before the surgery. She laughed at me when I tried to get the stupid, blue hat over all of my curls, and she took a picture of the crude gesture my hand involuntarily made due to the monitor taped to my middle finger. She sat on the bed with me, held my hand, and prayed for me. I was nervous, scared, and terribly upset about the whole thing, and I can’t thank God enough for sending my best friend to be with me on such a hard day. Of all people, she was the one I needed to be with me, not only because she’s my best friend, but because she had been through it and knew how I was feeling. It helped to have her there. Chris got to the hospital about fifteen minutes before they wheeled me out of the pre-op room.

The surgery went well. I don’t remember any of it, of course, but it didn’t take long. After they wheeled me away from Chris and Amy, the last thing I remember is being pushed down the hall and some large, bright lights overhead. When I woke up, I was lying in the recovery room. I kept coughing, and the tip of my tongue hurt. I think it got pushed against my retainer when they put the thing to keep my airway open in my mouth. The nurse said something to me when I woke up and started coughing, and, unfortunately for me, my ability to talk came back before my ability to filter. I started crying and telling the nurse about how I was supposed to have a baby. She patted me and acknowledged that it was a hard day for me, told me they would take me back to my husband and friend soon, and gave me a kleenex. I laid there crying for about thirty minutes until a nice man with very few teeth took me back to a room, while telling me what beautiful, brown eyes I have.

The nurse who was with me next gave me crackers and a Coke, patted me again when the crying started, and told me she’d get my family for me. She looked into the hall and said, “Well, we found one of them.” It was Amy Jo, and I was ever so thankful to see her. When she came in the room, she found me crying like a baby, holding a cup of coke. She climbed up on the bed with me, held my hand, and prayed over me. Her prayers and presence were calming, and I soon remembered I hadn’t ate since six or seven the evening before. I took care of three packages of crackers, while the nurse got me some pain medicine, and Chris found his way back to my room. When the pain meds kicked in, the crying stopped, and I believe I gave Chris and Amy a detailed account of Operation Ajax, in which CIA agents staged a coup in Iran and took all their oil. I was a bit loopy, but I was aware enough to notice the look Chris gave Amy over my head when I said, “The Brits were awfully shady.”

After I came home, everyone took care of me, and people from church brought us dinner. I stayed up late into the night crying all over Amy, and ruined her plans of leaving Tuesday morning. She stayed an extra day, and left on Wednesday morning. I was thankful for all the time she was here. We had a lot of good times prior to the D&C. We took the kids hiking, my mom watched all our kids when I took Amy out to Knoxville for a late birthday celebration, we went jeans shopping together, and spent a lot of time just sitting around talking and enjoying each other’s company.

To say last week was difficult would be an understatement. I thought everything would get easier when it was finally over. The whole “miscarriage” thing lasted for over a month. They kept telling me I was losing the baby for real, and then my levels would go up. There was the ectopic scare, and then the actual miscarrying. I thought the D&C would bring relief with the closure, but it was just a new kind of pain. When it was all over, I was a mess. It got worse after Amy left, and I found myself having a hard time doing anything. Just getting out of bed seemed like asking too much of me.

The last couple of days have been a tad bit easier, but not much. I’ll be fine, having an okay day, even somewhat enjoying myself, and then, out of nowhere, I’ll think of something and be terribly sad and depressed. I know it’s a process. I know it takes time. Right now, though, it just still really hurts.

I miss my baby. What a lot of people don’t realize is that I didn’t just lose a pregnancy. I lost a lifetime with my baby. I lost holding it…I lost smelling it…I lost nursing it…I lost knowing it. I lost every good thing that I know having a baby entails. Having three kids already doesn’t do much for me in lessening the sting of losing my baby. It just means that I know exactly what I lost. I know God will work all of this for my good. I know He has a plan. I also know that He knows just how bad it hurts right now. I know He loves me anyway, and He understands my pain.

I’m not so good at leaning on Him when I am hurting. Honestly, I guess I prefer physical arms around me and audible words to listen to. I find comfort and strength in His Word, but I am only just learning to depend on Him for comfort. This time in my life hurts…it hurts so bad I can barely breathe sometimes…but I know He has a purpose in my pain. Maybe it’s simply that I will grow as a person and as a child of God and learn to lean on Him. I don’t know his purpose. I do know, though, that I can trust Him. He is good…all the time.

On the way home from taking Kyra to school today, I was looking at the beauty all around me. Blue, cloudless skies. Budding trees. White, yellow, and purple blossoms everywhere I looked. And I thought, “It’s kind of ironic to be surrounded by new life while my heart is wrapped up in a new death.”

Today, I got a professional massage. I had never had one before. It was awesome. Amy shuddered and cringed when I told her she should go take all her clothes off and let a lady massage her for an hour, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

After the massage, I had a pedicure as well. My little footsies are ready for flip flop weather. (Unfortunately, I’ve been wearing flip flops already for a week.)

All of this courtesy of my lovely husband who watched the kids while I went and did all of that. Thanks, Honey. I feel really good.

On top of all of that, I got that horrid paper written yesterday, and that is a weight off of my shoulders. It wasn’t great. It wasn’t even good, but it is done. Hopefully, I’ll get a halfway decent grade.

Now, I just have to get my massaged and pedicured self into homework mode and take four quizzes and an exam in Western Civ. All of these are make-up tests, since I missed them during the rough spots lately. I only have two weeks left in the semester, and then I can breathe! Hallelujah!

This morning, as I was up getting ready to take Kyra to school, the kids and I were all eating one of our favorite quick things for breakfast…Muffin Tops.

While eating my muffin top, I was looking at Facebook, and noticed a little ad on the side of the page for a different kind of muffin top…

Kinda took a little bit out of my enjoyment of my yummy breakfast treat. Cruel irony.Stings a little. Thanks for that, Facebook.

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When I compare
What I have lost with what I have gained,
What I have missed with what attained,
Little room do I find for pride.

I am aware
How many days have been idly spent;
How like an arrow the good intent
Has fallen short or been turned aside.

But who shall dare
To measure loss and gain in this wise?
Defeat may be victory in disguise;
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

My post from this morning was kind of sad, no? Pitiful in parts, even. However, today was not all bad. It kind of progressively got better. You see, God gave me these three kiddos, and they are lots of fun. Also, their mommy is a tomboy, and she likes to play outside. Also, she’s not above making her four year old work for his wagon rides.

At the end of our evening playing outside, where I assure you the children all got their fair share of wagon rides, I took a ride down the hill in the wagon…then another and another. I rode all the kids down, too, which they loved. We had so much fun.

I got lots of cute pictures, too. I’ll post them soon. I’m having trouble figuring out how to re-size them in the new wordpress. I’ll figure that out, and then astound you with sunshiney cuteness.

I appreciate everyone’s comments to my last couple of posts. It means a lot. I mostly appreciate your prayers. I certainly need them.

The last few days have been hard. I think I’ve ran the gamut of emotions. I began really, physically miscarrying on Friday, and I was unprepared for the intense emotions that brought with it. Saturday was particularly hard, because I had to take the kids to their Awana banquet. I wanted to be in bed, not socializing at a church event. The kids really wanted to go, though, and Chris was working, so I had to take them. The hardest part was having to repeatedly tell people that I lost the baby. I kind of dropped the ball in updating people as to what had happened, and my wonderful church people didn’t know. I’ve found the telling to be excruciating.

My mom took the kids after the banquet on Saturday, and they spent the night with her and stayed with her till Sunday night. I had intended to catch up on some of the housework and schoolwork that I had gotten so behind in, but, instead, I went to sleep. I slept all day Sunday. I think I may have been awake for about two hours the whole day, and then maybe an hour and a half before going to bed when Chris and the kids came home. Amy wins best friend of the whole universe award for calling me yesterday morning and forcing me to wake up and get off the couch. I was trying my best not to, but Amy knew I had a test that had to be taken by noon. She even dealt with me getting a little mad at her for it.

I caught a break yesterday when my professor had put the date in wrong, and the test, which was supposed to be open till noon, had been closed at midnight. I emailed her, and she opened the test up until noon today. I had been planning on taking the test having not read any of the material. The class is online, and the tests are untimed and open book. I was going to just do my best, having not read any of the four textbook chapters the exam covered. With the extra time, I read all four chapters over the course of the day, and took the exam last night. Even after reading the chapters, I still only made an 89. I’m so thankful for the extra time. Next up is a paper for Western Civ. It was due last week, but my professor gave me mercy in regards to my situation. I need to get it written quickly, though. I have absolutely zero desire to do so.

I’m kind of a mess. Emotionally, I’m very up and down. I can go from feeling very normal and somewhat happy to being completely sad and upset the next. Physically, most of the actual physical effects of the miscarriage have lessened or went away, but I have had a lot of intense leg pain. It drives me crazy. The drugging up Sunday that led me to sleep all day was largely due to the insane pain in my legs. They didn’t bother me much yesterday, but they are killing me today. I’ve also been sick to my stomach for the past two days. I feel pretty yucky right now.

One of the hardest parts of this whole thing is that the rest of the world has the audacity to keep on living. I really just needed everything to come to a grinding halt and let me sleep for a week and get better. Instead, Chris has to keep going to work, the kids keep on needing cared for, my schoolwork keeps on needing turned in, and, apparently, the house keeps on generating mess, just on an accelerated schedule. It’s all overwhelming. I need everything to just stop and give me a few days. I cleaned the main living areas of the house Saturday before my mom came to get the kids, and it was clean until they got home Sunday night. Yesterday, while I did schoolwork all day, they made quite the mess. Today, I could get caught up on more schoolwork or clean up a bit, but there is no way I can do both. Honestly, I have no desire to do either, and I feel quite incapable of doing anything but lying on the couch. I feel so sick.

I am so very thankful that this semester is almost over. I only have like three weeks left. I am taking the summer off, and I intend to relax and enjoy it. Next semester, I don’t know what I will take. Chris will still be in school, and I will be, for the first time, homeschooling Kyra, so I don’t intend to overload myself with my own schoolwork. For the summer, though, we will take it easy.

I think I need a break.

Reading back over my posts, I wondered if I had done as well as I wanted to do in being transparent, or if I had put on a good face. What I wrote was honest. It’s where I was. I was hurting, but I had also come to a place where I was able to have faith in the Lord. Since I wasn’t blogging about it until just a few days ago, I thought I would publish some entries from my journal that I wrote last week. These entries were from a very raw place. It’s all a part of the journey.

March 28, 5:38 pm:

Little One, I love you. I know you’re new to this world and I’ve not known about you for very long, but I’ve loved you from the moment I started thinking of you. I want you so badly. I pray and plead with God to let me hold you in this world. I love you so much already.

I’m afraid, Little One. Afraid that I’ll have to wait till Heaven to know you.

I’m waiting now. Waiting to know if you are going or staying. My heart aches. I want you, Little One. I love you.

I bought you a teddy bear. I hold it and pray for you. I bought you a book today…Horton Hears a Who. That will always be our story, because it says “a person is a person, no matter how small”. People may not understand how I can be so attached to you already, Little One, but you are my baby. You are a whole person, no matter how small. I will always be your mama. If you rest in Jesus’ arms before mine, I will read this book to your brothers and sister and tell them of you…about  our Little One in Heaven. If God answers my cries and lets me keep you, I will read this story to you and tell you how much I wanted you and how much I loved you.

I love you, Little One. I always will. No matter what happens, I’ll always be your mama.

March 28, 10:52 pm:

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I feel too much and too little. Alternating excruciating and numb. I prayed for tears, but I didn’t want them if this is what it costs. Sobbing at the kitchen table…alone…because my baby is most likely dead. That’s just cruel.

Cruel to know what it’s like to be held. To know there’s a measure of comfort to be had…somewhere beyond my reach. Emails saying my friends would come and sit with me…pray with me…if they could. They can’t. They live on the other side of the country. My husband’s not home.  This hurts. I’m alone. So alone. The times that I’m not make being alone now even worse.

It hurts.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I’m being ridiculous for clinging to a shred of hope. I don’t want to be pitied. I don’t want to have to be “dealt with”. I’m not freaking out on anyone. I just want to know for sure.

March 29, 7:32 pm:

It hurts so bad.

I’ve been able to pray today. Been able to touch God. I’m okay. I am okay. Regardless of what happens, I am okay.

It still hurts, though. I feel bone-crushingly sad right now. I finished some housework. Sat down to rest. Caught up on reading blogs. Joy had blogged. I looked at pictures of her three month old. Clicked through to the pictures of her newborn niece. I probably shouldn’t have done that. There was a video clip of the new mama and baby. Those newborn eyes. I want to look into my Little One’s eyes.  I want to hold her in the hospital, and call her by her name. I want to smell her newborn smell. I want my baby.

Will it always hurt.? I’m beginning to feel like my stubborn hope is a little silly. It’s hard to give up. I want my Little One. I’m trying so hard to be okay. I am okay, but I certainly don’t feel okay. I’m sad. I’m lonely. I’m hurt. I’m heartbroken.

I feel like I’m gasping for breath. It’s crushing. It’s suffocating. Oh, Jesus, hold me up.

March 29, 8:34 pm:

Dear God, I’m feeling frantic. I’m sitting here, heart racing, feeling desperate. I can’t feel you anymore. I can’t feel your presence. I’m not angry at you. I’m not hurt at you. I just need you. Right now. I need to feel the peace you gave me earlier. Oh, God! It hurts so bad. I can’t breathe. Give me peace to guard my heart and mind. I need your grace. I got irritated at Chris for suggesting I should do his laundry. The same feelings that I had when he left me to go have fun with the kids on Monday. God, help me to remember the way he prayed for me and Little One. Help me to remember the psalm he shared with me. Help me, God. Help me not to be hurt when people talk about other things. Help me to remember that the world still turns and there is more in our lives than what is happening to me. God, help me. Help me to react right. Help me not to be selfish. Help me, God. Help me to breathe. It’s hard. I can’t pray right now, so I’m writing this prayer instead. Sometimes it’s easier. Help me, God. Help me. I heard you today. I felt your peace. Why is it so fleeting? Seeing that new baby, I was suddenly flooded with the reality of what I’m losing. Oh, God. It hurts. It hurts. I just wish I knew. I want to know what’s going on. Holding that baby in my dream, I could actually feel her weight. I am afraid I’ll never hold my Little One. It hit me so hard, God, when I saw that new baby. Realizing what I probably won’t get to do. To hold her and breathe her in. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. I want to numb my heart. It hurts too bad. I feel alone. I feel incapable of dealing with the kids tonight. Make them go to sleep quickly. Lord, help me to remember I have three other kids. Help me to take better care of them than I’ve done. Give me patience with them. Help me to know the words to say when it comes time to tell them about our baby. God, I don’t want them to hurt, but I want them to know. Little One is part of me…part of our family…part of our story. Amy says it won’t always hurt this bad. God, can’t you make it hurt a little less until Chris is home to hold me. Please. I’m begging you. I can’t do this alone. I don’t know how I’m supposed to make it through this night. I know I have three healthy babies. I know. I know. I know, but it still hurts. I wanted this baby so bad. I loved her already. Please help me, God. Please help me.