Surrender

Thank you God for bringing me where I am today.  I would have never asked to be in this position but I'm so encouraged by your Truth.  Lately I've been doubting.  After I miscarried the only thing that kept me moving on was knowing You had a plan.  You are faithful.  You were faithful in my past and would be faithful in my future.  Then suddenly October hit.

The weather became wet.  I don't like that.  I stay inside cuddled in blankets, watching Elmo (thanks two-year old), and drinking soda to take off the headache.  I'm forced to warm up in sweatpants and sweaters and be around people.  It's good though.  It's healing.

some mornings I just want to boycott life

Father, I'm blessed by You.  Because as hard as October has been for me emotionally, I feel your presence.  On my knees, or laying on my pillow, drenched in tears, finding security in You alone.  Those who don't know You or can't find comfort in You I deeply fear for their struggles we all face in this life.  I could do NOTHING without You, Father.

October has been like a crashing wave.  As I hide behind the curtains (it's cold out there), I find my loneliness growing.  But it's not loneliness like one might think.  You see, I have a husband who desires communication, a daughter who WANTS everything, and church family along my side every step of the way.  I'm no longer in need of people to take away this void I feel.  

I want my babies.  My lost babies.

And no please, please don't tell me I need help with grieving.  Believe me.  I got that part down.  And please, please don't tell me I need help moving on.  Or what to do next.  I know what I'm doing next.

What I need is to know my body won't fail when we try again.

I need to know after weeks of sickness I won't lose another baby.

I won't have to give birth again without a baby to snuggle.

I fear I'll go the whole pregnancy just fine and lose it in the end.

I fear I'll never know what it would be like to have a son.

I fear if we have a daughter my husband won't get to teach a son how to live.

{We honestly don't care what gender we're blessed with next.}

I mourn my babies, but I also mourn the future.

I mourn forgotten heartbeats.

I mourn mommies who fear motherhood.

I mourn the months I lost and won't ever get back.

I mourn the stretchmarks each pregnancy gave me.  Each bath reminds me.  I only have one baby with me.

I mourn what could have been....

...and what never will be.

As I sat in church today I cried tears of surrender.

I had nothing left to give.  Nothing to offer.

Nothing I could do or say to Him that would be of worth.

I just gave up myself.

And the tears poured like a waterfall.

that's what I did in church.
or at least what I looked like in my head.
{thank google images}

As soon as I let go.  He had room to come in.

And my family will never be the same for it.