There is a moment in each day where I have to stop myself from thinking about what it would be like to still be pregnant. About how he would be moving, or how I would be decorating the nursery, or getting to the point where Harrison could see and understand what was happening.
There is a moment, or moments, in each day when I want to sink into myself and not come back.
There are moments in each day when I feel desperately alone.
There are moments in each day when I am terrified of what the future holds.
There are moments in each day where I am afraid to interact with others, or feel so painfully aware of how awkward I am.
There are moments in each day where I am jealous of anyone who is pregnant or has a newborn.
There are moments in each day where I feel like a failure.
There are moments in each day where I count down how close I am to going back to the "real" world of work.
There are moments in each day when I am desperate to go back to June 8th and know what it is to feel normal again.
It is a month later and these moments still come. Every single day. I now know that I won't drown, but I am still treading water and haven't yet started to swim to the shore.
Each of these moments is a choice. I can embrace my bitterness and resentment, or cry out to God for help.
When I embrace the bitterness and resentment, my world shrinks. I focus solely on me. I shut myself off from Justin and Harrison. I revel in my anger. I count all the reasons I have been wronged. "Why me?" is my ongoing mantra. Shrunken, selfish and sad. I wallow in my grief.
When I cry out to God for help, my world expands. I am immediately calmed. God uses those around me to soothe me. Justin comes along to comfort me, or Harrison makes me laugh. I count my blessings to ward off bitterness. I feel hopeful. Comforted and cared for I find peace in the refuge of God's love.
These are not daily choices. They are hourly, or minute, based choices. I am not always strong. I do not always make the right choice. However, I find myself choosing peace more often. I find that scriptures that were memorized in Awanas or in school come back to soothe me.
Grief is like an ocean. There are moments of simple waves, and full blown storms. Treading water I am impacted by all these changes. Bitterness pulls me under and threatens to drown me, but the my Savior can calm the storm and give me strength.
I am learning to reach for His life preserver more often.