time is not my friend.

four months. i can hardly believe it. she would have been four months old today. had she made it. had she been given the chance to fight. four months, that's what she would be today.

the morning started out as well as any tired, "everything goes wrong" morning that makes you want to crawl back in bed much less try and gather up you and your child to make it to church. liam didn't want to eat, didn't want to go to church. he wanted his daddy. for three weeks he has wanted his daddy. but i couldn't help him with that. he wanted to go to aislyn's house but i couldn't help with that at 8am either. i wanted to go back to bed but i couldn't.

i got us ready for church and dragged my tired, sad child with me into service because he was so distraught over missing his daddy that i couldn't leave him crying, standing alone without at least one parent to comfort him. i gave in, took my two ton bag full of distractions and snacks into service. liam laid his head on my shoulder through the entire time of worship and was so melancholy. i tried to sing but couldn't. i kept thinking about her. about missing ian. about the poor sweet woman who lost her husband when he drowned last week on easter day. about life, about God and the tears kept falling. sweet amy tried to give me kleenex, tried to pat my back and give me comfort but when the baby girl and her parents sat down in front of us during worship, the floodgates opened and i couldn't shut them down. something about the little hands, the tiny head resting on her daddys's shoulder, her dark hair, her purple outfit....i wondered again, through tears and snot, why my little girl wasn't in my arms...

liam, unbeknownst to me,  had been quite successful at covering half a page in Jeremiah with sponge bob stickers, to which i could not peel off and if i did would rip the page. so now sponge bob and Jeremiah are forever linked in kinship in my bible, at least, and i angrily put the book down on the floor in failure and sat frozen. liam climbed down onto the floor and put his head in my knees, the tears were flowing more heavily and i looked around and grabbed all my stuff and liam and we snuck out of service. 

then, of course, as fate would have it, right outside the doors of the sanctuary; me, my son and my bulging bag of crap (that fell out all over the floor while trying to fumble/find my keys)all  land at the feet of my sweet friend ashley, with whom i shared a due date...she, her husband and their tiny new son were right there and i could hardly hide the mess that was me at the moment. she hugged me tightly and was obviously uncomfortable as to what to do or say to me for we had not seen each other since each other's child's death and birth had happened. i walked over to meet her son, my snot and all, and rubbed his sweet head and smiled at her, honestly smiled with joy over him and told her i was sorry, she had caught me in a bad moment, a hard day....

so i dragged both my bag of tricks/ loot/purse and my son and we drove home. i turned up the music loudly so liam would not hear my sobbing and got us home in time to have liam climb into his bed and drift into sweet naptime and we each took 3 hour naps. i suppose we needed the catch-up rest after a busy weekend of moving our friend....but i also just needed to crawl back in bed and cry in private...not in a room full of people and babies and my kid with his sponge bob stickers vandalizing my bible...

today. today was a hard day that i haven't had in months. i have either been doing better or damming up the floodgates because i was all done before noon. doing this all alone for three weeks has only weakened my strength, patience and spirit a bit too. three weeks of sickness and sleepless nights, and one bad morning and i was undone.

i dont' know what to say or what to do or where to go. nothing makes it easier. i can't for the life of me figure out why people tell you grief gets better or easier with time. it doesn't folks. it just doesn't. the aching waves of pain just seem to come in differently paced tides, that's all. the pain is still just the same, it hurts just as much, if not more....the wound that our daughter's death left in my heart is no smaller today than the day she left us. the time span length in which i can handle, live and function with this wound is the only thing that changes with time.

and this morning, the wound was just bleeding too much and too fast for me.

four months. shit- it still hurts like hell. time has not been the friend i thought. 

the only thing that is different i suppose in four months is that i am actually talking to God again...not like great friends who finish each other's sentences quite yet, but the dialogue is there, even if days like this mean i am screaming or crying or talking more than listening....i, even in my infinite hell on earth, know He is there...even on shitty days like today.