I am healing.
My physical body has shown signs of vast recovery.
I went back to work yesterday and it was good to called Mrs. Shannon and hear school bells ringing and feel like I’m a part of affecting change in some kids lives I’ve grown to love.
I still fight fatigue and soreness, I think I may for quite some time.
I am trying to pray and it is halting, stuttering, without many words. But it is an attempt to believe, a plea for help in my unbelief. I feel He honors that.
Every hour, every minute of every day I remind myself of who I am.
That these losses do not define me as a woman, as a mother. That all things can be worked for good. That I have a beautiful child who is more a miracle than I ever realized. That I am loved. By God, by my family, by the people in my village who have walked this road with me many times before just to have to turn around and do it again. I hope, if you have ever suffered loss like this, you had someone do that for you.
I remember why I choose to be open about this, this part of my life that doesn’t belong in the shadows or behind curtains of shame as though I am a criminal; as though my body is on trial for manslaughter. If I am ever able to get pregnant again, you will know. God gives and takes away with or without my acknowledgement. My self-deceptive idea of control has no bearing. Through tears, I will rejoice in the giving of another child, and mourn the taking away. It makes me no less of a woman, no less of a mother. I will praise Him still.
I am sad, I am afraid, I walk with a heartache so large I sometimes have to sit down in order to breathe through the weight of it, but I am not broken. This does not get to break me. No matter how heavy, how hard they are pushed down, my arms are held up by the prayers of so many it is impossible to give up. Did you ever believe it could be true? That your words to God on behalf of someone else could actually do exactly what He suggests it does? Have you ever had the chance to watch what it looks like? How someone looks when they cannot walk in their own strength, but are actually being held up by the prayers of their people? Watch me this week, and in the weeks to come and see. This is how it works. This is why we so desperately need each other. This is why you needed to know.
So, I will continue to get up, to put on real shoes and eat breakfast that has no taste. I will continue to write lesson plans and make dinner and laugh at my daughter as she rides her bike in circles around the house and wait all day to kiss my husband when he walks in the door from work. I will grieve, I will breathe, I will cry, I will laugh, I will run, I will rest. I will.