...And...

If you're looking for Susie-so-Happy, that is not me, right now. I told a friend tonight that one thing I hated about books on the grieving "process" is how they candy-coat things into making it all sound so holy and perfect.
I am not "holy and perfect" right now.
My life is not all about my loss. There is much, much more to me, and losing my daughter is only a percentage. I'm a fairly "normal" person, and that is only part of my "story." It doesn't "define" me. I am comfortable around pregnant people, I can go to baby showers, I can cuddle most infants, I can walk through the baby department, and I will not go postal, so please don't judge me and say that you think I have a problem around someone because they're in the maternal way. Yippee for them. No, really--I have a deep love for pregnancy. It's the most beautiful time in a woman's life, and babies are AWESOME. That being said...
There are certain parts of losing a family member (no matter how small they were) that one must go through. You eventually have to go through their things; eventually, no matter the age, you have to decide on things to get rid of.
First, we got rid of the diapers...the formula...anything new went back to the store, or to the unending number of people that were pregnant at the same time I was.
Certain things were initially held back...a Blues hockey onesie, a particular dress...then, slowly, even those things began to find homes. Some things are still in storage (I haven't given up hope-hope is restored, I am hanging on, etc)=, but some things must be passed along for the sake of space.
This is a small house.
We bought the crib, secondhand. It came with a changing table...the mattress, we purchased brand-new.
"New crib mattress for sale...never used."
They've sat there, in our "nursery," for 4 1/2 years.
The time has come.
They have been passed along.
My nursery is empty.
As practical as I know this is (I have nephews that would like to have a bed to sleep on; we're now looking for bunk beds or a trundle bed to put in there, so if you know anyone, please let us know), words can't describe how much this sucks.
Please don't say, "I'm so sorry." I'm not trying to elicit a compassionate response. This will be fine--I will be okay.
David told me not to go in there, after they came to take the crib away...he said to wait.
I couldn't.
I walked in
This pain is palpable.
I feel like I've been disemboweled.
There is no holiness to this feeling.
There is only leaning.
I can't stand up.
I wasn't even going to write about this, because I feel so much of this very painful journey has been so public...recent doctor's visits have cut my feet out from underneath of me, and I find myself struggling to breathe.
I've actually been sick with some kind of throat infection for almost a month, and I can't help but think the "funk" from the December cardiologist's visit upset me so much that my immune system shut down. I'm on my second round of antibiotics, and I'm exhausted...
I'm back to working out 2x/week, and I'm hoping to consistently get to 3x/week, in spite of being sick. That's got to help, right?
I have an amazing network of friends....I'm sure they're sick of me by now. I have an amazing husband...my family is fractured right now, so I'm trying not to talk to them about this.
This is not about giving up hope...
This is not about not trusting Him.
This is about today.
Today hurts.
Today, I'm not angry...
Today, the fact that we bought furniture we planned to use...and never got to use...hurts my heart.
The fact that the furniture went to someone who will grow up in love, lessens that pain, and helps me to pray for that family...that there would be miraculous provision...strength...phenomenal peace...and nothing but the greatest of blessings.
Today I prayed over that furniture, before I said goodbye (in tears).
And I thanked God for the day that will come,
When I will have the need to ask for it back.