I thought I was done blogging.
I mean, isn't almost everyone done blogging? Unless they've got some sort of special talent to share with the world.
I've been journaling. Someday I will catch up the blogosphere on the last 14 months of my life since I last posted.
Today, I'm looking for a little blog-therapy.
October 6, 2010 I was blessed with a miracle of my very own. Samuel has spent the last eight months providing me with entertainment, joy, sleepless nights, an absurd amount of bodily fluids expelled onto various clothes and furniture, humility, but most of all, a look into the merciful nature of an aboundingly graceful Heavenly Father.
Samuel is more than I could have ever asked for or imagined.
But I wanted more. I've always wanted more. I asked for more.
Not at this specific second, of course, cause that would be crazy to want to raise two babies in a span of one year...
But last month, I thought that was what I had received. A blessing out of nowhere, an unexpected pregnancy that again proves that statistics can be triumphed if you have a belief in the Creator of the Universe.
We acted on the belief that in January we would be bringing a sibling home for Samuel to torment. We spread the news. We started planning for the future. But there was a higher plan in place.
This week I lost that baby. I experienced a second miscarriage in 3 years. I lost a child that I had carried for 10 weeks. That I had, in my head, been giving names to. That I now have to plan an alternate future without.
I don't know how I feel. Precious friends and family have reached out to me. I mostly, if I answer the phone at all, sit silent because I physically can't form words.
I feel like I have been on an emotional roller coaster ride for the last almost 5 years that I can't seem to get off of.
Once again, the control of my life that I am constantly grasping at, is shown to have never been in my grasp to begin with.
All I can do is raise my hands to my Father. I don't understand sweet Jesus. Why do I have two babies resting with you instead of in my arms? Why is it that as soon as I begin to understand the nature of YOU, my boat is rocked and all I can do is search the waters for your presence and peace that surpasses all understanding.
Please hold my babies. Please rock them, sing to them. Tell them how much I love them.
Father, please give me peace. Dry my tears. Help me to once again lift up my face to your glory and rest in the comfort that you are up to something heavenly through my life.