I feel as though I've taken a few steps backwards this week, it's been really tough. I feel like it has been one test after another the last few days. In a world where everything is instant, in a life where I have always achieved my goal when I have tried hard enough, trying for a baby is frustrating. Add in grieving for the one you lost and it's heartbreaking. Add in the feeling that you shouldn't be having to do this again is embittering. Add in someone else telling you they are pregnant every couple of weeks and it just rubs salt in. Nine months have passed, and lots of the people who joined sands when I joined are now expecting their rainbow babies, I am not. I am delighted for each and every one of them, I am sad for me. I know that it shouldn't matter, it does.
lots of advice has come my way, the usual suspects, relax, it won't happen whilst you are stressed, you need to heal more, have faith you will get there......all true. But impossible to rectify. I know myself, I know my heart, I know what I need to heal. I know my heart won't mend any more now until I hold my next baby. I also know that that won't make it all ok, but it's the best I can hope for for the future. I am asking God for help, to be pregnant again, or for patience until it is my turn. I am not getting either yet. God's time clearly isn't aligned with my time. Not sure what more He wants me to learn whilst I wait and suffer, whilst all around me I have to watch other people who have what I have lost, and who are getting what I hope for.
Today I was feeling a bit better, I picked up again on the normal ebb and flow of my emotional tides. That was until I was faced with a baby girl, about the age Robert would have been were he born at the right time, with the buggy we had chosen for him. It cut me to the core. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Right there in front of me sat on the floor next to her buggy, a perfect little representation of exactly what I am missing. I put on the mask, I saw my patient, I let him go. I cried, hard. For a very long time. I tried to block it out, but I could see her still, imprinted in my mind, and then she morphed into a little boy.....my little boy. The one I miss so much. I could hear her laugh, and cry, both piercing my skull and my heart, with no escape. I will never hear my son laugh or cry.
You would think after nine months I'd be able to cope with it. No. It seems to be getting worse again. I feel as though I am being tested. Have I not been through enough yet? Sitting in my room a few hours later, reflecting on the last few days, feeling angry and frustrated at God, I thought. I know how Job felt. Am I being tested like he was? Or is this the other one's work, tormenting me. I guess if I wake up covered in boils tomorrow, I will know the answer.