It's 12:30 in the morning. This is a different kind of grief- one that I haven't felt with the miscarriage before. It's not an overwhelming sadness. It's regret. Regret of so many things. I regret not being pregnant anymore. I regret not being able to meet my baby. I regret no longer having that natural "motherly happiness" that I had just a few short days ago. I feel a little frustrated with God because He gets to be with my baby and know my baby. God has so many people up there, why'd He have to take my only child?? This kind of grieving gives me the stomach ache. I only cried a handful of times today. I thought I was doing better. But now I can't sleep. My baby feels so far away. My dreams feel so far away. I guess I'm now realizing that this actually happened. The bleeding is getting lighter. I'm going back to work tomorrow. This happened. The miscarriage actually happened. To me. To us. Why? Did I do something wrong? Did I take too hot of a bath? Did I stress? What did I do? Was it something I could have prevented? I want to give baby a name. No name seems good enough for a baby I never got to meet. Does it even matter if I name it? Is Jesus already calling it something else? Is it too late to name my sweet child? I know my baby is happy, but I miss him. I feel lonely when I can't be near Kaleb. He's been my lifeline. He's been my happiness. He's been my gift from God. But I'm afraid and empty and lonely when Kaleb's not close. I know I'm not supposed to feel this way because God is always with me, but I feel this way anyways.
Nothing on TV is good to me anymore. Everything seems so fake.
Nothing on TV is good to me anymore. Everything seems so fake.