Hormones + Grief = Messy

I am definitely feeling depressed this week.  I use the word carefully cause I'm still not in need of meds, no worries, but I feel down.  And although I am certain that makes perfect sense with what has happened in my life, I still hate it.  I think part of it is that I'm super overwhelmed with everything I have to do lately.  I have to stand at a table in the morning at church to try to recruit some more volunteers and I want to ditch out on it.  I actually can't wait until this is over.  It's just so much work and I'm still so sad.  I have had to keep going no matter what and I'm looking forward to the day things slow down... one week from today!

The bottom line is that no matter where I am or what I'm doing, I'm still grieving.  I'm grateful that God has given me the ability to be real with people as much as sometimes I wish I knew how to keep my mouth shut.  At least I know that there isn't crap boiling under the cover... it's all over the stove already!  What you see is what you get.  Sometimes it's messy.  And lately, I feel really messy. 

I've spent time trying to analyze how I feel and why... why am I more sad lately?  Why am I not excited about the playground?  Why do I not feel like talking to people? Why do I not want to get out of bed in the morning?  Why does it feel like Rachel just died?  Will I be happy about the playground after it's built or will it just make me sad?  What if it's just a HUGE reminder that she's gone?  Will I be happy about this baby after it's here or will it just be a reminder that Rachel's not?  And that is followed by guilt that I even think that way.  I could go on and on and on...  Here are the answers I've come up with.

1.  I'm grieving
2. I'm pregnant
3. I'm grieving and pregnant at the same time

Look, any time I've been pregnant I don't want to get up in the a.m. or talk to people.  It's called hormones.  I also have a history of losing my "filter" when I'm pregnant  (or after I have a baby, which was magnified after Rachel with the grief)  Meaning, there is no telling what I might say and so I usually try to stay away from people.  (it's me being nice) :o) My body has always responded to hormones in a pretty non-friendly way.

 The grief just does whatever it wants and I'm along for a bumpy ride... Out of nowhere I can start crying and that has happened a lot this week.  Today I looked at a picture of her and I could feel her in my arms... I burst into tears with a deep pain in my heart that would do anything to hold her again. I fear the day that I can't remember what that felt like.  Thinking about what could have been crushes me.  She would be smiling at me now and started to babble...the kids would be in love with her.

I don't believe that pregnancy and grieving were ever intended to go together.  To add that it's my baby I'm grieving adds a different dynamic because not long ago, that space belonged to Rachel.  It was all I knew of her.  I'm actually nervous for the first time I feel this little one kick.  I never in my whole life imagined I would say such a thing.  The very things that used to be what I looked forward to, now scare me.  (like Mother's Day)  My emotions are still so raw and my heart hurts so bad.  But the truth is, unless I was never to have another baby again, I was going to have to go through this... and whatever else might come along... there is no way around it, only through it.

And so I keep putting one foot in front of the other... one painful day at a time... trying to stay pliable to what God wants to do in me through this - and joining Him in using Rachel's story, our story,  in whatever way He has planned.  And while I do, I long for heaven like never before.  A place where there is no more pain, no more tears, no worries, no deadlines, no hormones or death and especially not the two together...

A place where there is Rachel. 

Memories of her are everywhere; Her playground, Her 'walk & run', The tulips we planted together.  Her memory is there,  but her... her perfect little body, the baby I long to hold... she is in heaven and no matter what I do, I will not see *her* again anywhere else.  And the places I do see her are just reminders that she isn't here.

My grandmother told me the first 100 years are the hardest, after that it gets easy.  I would only change one thing about her very wise statement... and that would be: if you believe in Jesus.  If not, I'd say that's backwards.