Dark Days

I have mastered the art of emotional deception. I just made that up so I am not sure if that makes sense to anyone but me. Let me explain. I woke up this morning and sobbed for about an hour while cleaning. I showered, applied my mask makeup so the world can’t see me transparently. I hold back tears while driving to a social event. (The car always gets me.) But I make it there. I am laughing, talkative, enjoying my friends and I can even talk about my latest test results to a select few. No tears. A million words and sights make my throat swell but I am like stone. Nobody would know the burn I’m feeling. I want to be there. It’s just that everywhere I go this week seems to hurt. I get in my car. Exhale. And the tears just come pouring.

I am not trying to hide. I am not purposefully trying to fake out my emotions. I am just trying to make my way in this world without every conversation focusing on me and my pain. But it’s there. Oh it’s there. It’s always lurking. I’m just getting so darn good at controlling the appearance of it. Or so I think.

Do they know? Those around me? Friends, strangers? Can they see what I think I’m so good at hiding? I almost wish I could see myself from the outside for a day. It sure would be nice to get a break from the inside. But the one person I can’t hide from is myself.

I know this all sounds so dark. I am in a dark mood, a dark place this week. But I’m still above water somehow. I do have joy. I do laugh. I do get refreshed after spending time with friends. I’m not always a walking black cloud. But this week it feels that way and I can’t help it, nor do I have the strength to try.

A year ago this week I was at my baby shower trying to absorb the fact I was actually pregnant and going to have a baby. I was so overwhelmed that day. I sat there opening gifts, one by one and never felt like they were actually for me. I was just twenty one weeks pregnant. A bit early for a shower but Bret was leaving for overseas and we were home with my family. They just wanted to spoil us and celebrate with us as this baby was prayed for, for such a long time. But it felt like a dream. It was a beautiful brunch. Pastels everywhere just like I wanted. Cute outfits and all of the must have baby accessories. Truth-I was so scared. Sitting there with my husband opening gifts with this belly in front of me; a big smile on my face but scared as a statue on the inside. I wish I would have embraced it more.

I don’t know if I will ever get another baby shower. I don’t even know if I’ll want one.

It’s beginning. I’m starting to remember all of the significant days and moments up until his death and birth. It’s still two months away and honestly I am train wreck already. I write this from my kitchen table where can look up and see his lighthouse through the window. Shining bright and bold in the freezing night. I just want to run out there and take a baseball bat to it because I don’t want a light house, I want my son. I don’t want his body in ashes to sit in an urn in the cold. I want his warm body in my house, in my arms safe and warm where babies belong.

Lately I try to imagine him. What he would look like, sound like and be like. I used to only imagine him as I saw him ten months ago. But now wonder is beginning to consume my mind. I try so hard to envision what he would look like and I just can’t. It’s like trying to create a human being from nothing except he is something and he was a human being. I just can’t see his face. How amazing is it that God creates every cell of each of us from scratch? He designs the curves in our face, each hair on our heads, every dimple, every freckle…everythingfrom nothing. It breaks my heart that I don’t know what my own son looks like. I pray for dreams of him but nothing comes.

I am so glad God is with me. I can’t imagine what this would feel like without having hope in his promise. It actually scares me. If pain can be so deep with him…the thought of pain without him literally makes me head shake with the inability to comprehend it. I wouldn’t couldn’t survive it. Even though I am barely able to catch my breath this week-I know that somehow, someway it will be okay. It has to be. I miss my son so much but I refuse to let this be it. There has to be more. There will be more. I have so much more love to give that sometimes I think my heart could literally explode.

showerSo thank God. Thank God for his promise. I am holding him to it and I know he will come through. I know he will take this shattered heart and restore it. I know he has plans that I cannot see yet. I know that these dark days will be overcome with bright ones in his timing.

Here is Jake and I one year ago this week at our baby shower.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21:4

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