maybe its because we hoped and prayed so long for the day we’d see two lines on the little stick. Maybe its because I know I was even for a few short weeks. Maybe I’m going crazy. But I swear over the last 48 hours I’ve thought more about BEING pregnant than NOT being pregnant. I’ve peed a lot. I’ve felt nauseous. I’ve dreamed about the day in December we get to meet this little guy. And then I wake up and realize he’s gone.
I know its absurd. I know I’m not still pregnant. Part of me feels like “but oh… I’ll have faith like Abraham and hope against all hope and God could once again make a miracle happen” and then part of me says to be realistic, mourn this loss and look to God for hope and strength that He’s promised in this trial.
But I don’t want it to be a trial. I want to hold this child in my arms. I guess its part of the grieving process. I think they call it denial. I’ve wondered about babies and heaven. And how that works. My mind doesn’t understand. My heart hurts. And here I sit crying once again mourning the loss of my son I’ll never meet. My body knows what my mind can’t accept quite yet.
The one verse that God keeps reminding me of is Deuteronomy 33:25… and as your days, so shall your strength be.
I read that passage today and found that verse is followed by:
“There is none like God, O Jeshurun,
who rides through the heavens to your help,
through the skies in his majesty.
27The eternal God is your dwelling place,
and underneath are the everlasting arms.
My strength is in my God. I know that I will be okay, even when my head tells me otherwise. He has always been faithful. He has always been good. So, in the middle of denial, I am trying to rest there. He’s promised strength for today. He’s promised to be my help. I have nothing else to rest on but that. And I know one of these days my mind will realize that is enough.