To sort it all out. So if I sound whiney or I go long periods in between, then.. so be it.
Anyway, the guestbook entry in Emerald's journal today said that God knows what I am feeling because he watched his son suffer and die.
Now. Come On. This is GOD we are talking about. Sure, if what Christians say is true then yes, perhaps he did watch his son die. But God had the power to stop that from happening and he didn't. At least according to many Christians I know. So God doesn't understand how I feel. I had NO POWER in keeping my child alive. I would have given up practically every other thing in my life to make that happen, and she still died. I guess, the thing is, that a lot of people think that their way of thinking will make everyone feel better.
Because I am not a Christian, I don't look at things like that. No way can I say for sure what I do believe, but I can tell you that most of the mindless ramblings of many of the Christians that have emailed me, (And to be fair, there are many of you who do not do this to me.) have been less than helpful. If God understands where I am, then he also understands why I am more pissed than shit, about what happened.
We are on our way to buying a house (I think.) What a collosial pain in the ass it has been. LOL But if it all works out, we will be doing great. If not, well, then we wait. Finding something we can afford, in the area we need to be in so I don't have to shut down my daycare, and with the space we need to get by on for the next 5 years or so is hard. This place suits all our needs. Just cross your fingers that we can get some magic to get it to work out.
AND as happy as I am to move, I am also worried about moving Emerald's stuff. About closing this chapter in my life, the life with her here in this house. But I know I can't live like this forever.
Nothing is easy is it??
1 comment:
Happy (belated) Birthday. Thinking about your birthday and your recent miscarriage reminded me of an experience in my own life, not that it's really related in any way.
Two days after one of the four miscarriages I had preceding Steven's birth, I went to a Christmas party at a fancy restaurant for the company my husband worked for.
I was in a kind of mental state that is hard to describe, I hadn't known I was pregnant until the miscarriage even though I was 3 1/2 months along, I'd had two negative pregnancy tests, then four days of severe pain spent writhing on our family room floor, then the miscarriage where everything suddenly became clear.
So two days later there I was at this Christmas party all dressed up, I'd even gotten my hair done and I never do that.
I drank two glasses of wine before dinner, and before I'd finished my meal, I started feeling sick. I got up to go to the bathroom and I could not walk a straight line to save my life.
I'm not a heavy or a habitual drinker and two glasses of wine would not normally put me over the top, but there I was. I made it to the bathroom and got sick twice and I still felt terrible. There was no way I was going to walk back into that room in front of my husband's co-workers, I was so obviously drunk.
So I went out and sat in my car. My husband came out at one point and said he'd take me home shortly, then went back in. An hour later he hadn't returned and I was too embarassed to go get him and I was sick again, throwing up in the plants next to the car.
So I did something really stupid and drove home. For whatever stupid reason, it hadn't even occurred to me to call a cab or I would have.
I made a left turn in front of someone on a residental street near my house and they hit me. Nobody was hurt, it was a low speed crash, but I was covered with glass and my blood alcohol was .9 or something like that, borderline.
The police came and made me walk heel to toe, touch my nose, do the alphabet backwards, and decided to arrest me. They handcuffed me and drove me out to the county jail, 40 miles away.
They searched me before they locked me up, removing all the bobby pins in my hair that the hairdresser had put in. They interviewed me and asked me if I thought I was going to kill myself. I said I've thought of it before, but it won't be over a DUI.
They threw me in a cell with a bunch of prostitutes for six hours. I kind of liked hanging out with the prostitutes actually. My sister came to pick me up, but they made her wait four hours before they released me.
They photographed me and took my fingerprints. And there I was, all dressed up, my hair done with little pieces of glass still in it, sitting in a jail cell.
I paid $2000 in fines and stuff. I lost my driver's license for a year. I had to attend AA meetings. I had to go to weekly support group meetings for substance abusers. I had to rely on buses and the kindness of others to get myself back and forth to work and other places.
My car was declared a total loss and even after my license was restored, we waited a bit before getting another car, the costs were so prohibitive. My auto insurance cost $400/month for the first two years after, and that was without collision.
It's been long enough now that all that stuff is off my record, but I imagine my mug shot and fingerprints are in some database somewhere.
Every time I remember those miscarriages I remember getting arrested.
Nothing is ever easy, I can relate. And as for the guestbook person, I don't really know what to say. I'm a Christian of sorts, but then again I've been arrested and I've got a niece in heaven and a son with a brain tumor, who am I to tell anyone else how to live their lives, I don't know how to live my own.
I think we all do the best we can, and God sees that, it's what's in our hearts and minds that matters.
Hope you're feeling better and that you get that house.
Are you still watching that baby?
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