Out-pour Poem Day One

The grief is so thick.
I can barely see through it.
I can hardly move in it.
It catches my breath.
And chokes me.
It threatens to engulf me.
In waves so powerful,
I want to let it.
That feels dangerous.
My heart constricts,
and bends and bleeds
Not understanding
nonetheless believing
what I don’t even want
to believe.

God, why would you?
God, how could you?
You know that I will praise you through everything -
And still you allow this suffering.

Place Your hands on me
Guide me through this grief
I cannot see past today
Show me what
You know I don’t know-
when I can know.

I trust You. I trust You. I say it and mean it. I trust You.

I understand nothing,
but by faith,
and prayers,
by Your Hands
I am held.
So I understand something,
and I understand nothing
in a grief this thick.

The new reality:

44 days
That's how long I've spent adjusting to my new reality: pregnant.
Another child.
Really, God?  Wow.  At the age of 41, nonetheless.
I was confused for sure, but soon this sweet new secret of Life, Joy, and Love began to glow within me.
We waited until the 8 week ultrasound (to see the heart beat) before we told family.
Of course, sweet Brielle was ecstatic- and in shock.
She began making plans.  And an announcement sign.
We all began to imagine our new reality, talked about it, dreaming.
Life with a baby!  Now? Our plans continued as normal, but with an anticipation, expectation.

My midwife scheduled an ultrasound for eleven weeks.  She never said "high risk" but rather, "Advanced Maternal Age." I scoffed.  I maybe was a little coy.  I'm healthier now than I've ever been in my entire life.  I've always been fertile and had three healthy pregnancies. No wonder I was pregnant again.
I know I'd thought of it a few times since learning of the pregnancy...
But I was not thinking about it at all when the ultrasound began.
I had brought Brielle!  She was giddy.
Tiffany was there with us too.  We were going to see the baby!
Except we didn't.
The nightmare slowly unfolded in a surreal sort of why.
I can't even explain what I was thinking or feeling.  I hugged Brielle.  I felt SO bad.
I did not see this coming.  No heartbeat.
We went over to the Midwives' Clinic, where they took us to private room.
I called Will, crying.
He couldn't understand what I was saying through my sobs.
He had not seen this coming.
The midwife and intern came in to speak with me.  They believed the baby had stopped growing somewhere around nine weeks gestation.
They asked if they could pray for me, for us.
Yes.  Yes, absolutely.
I bawled.
And I didn't stop crying for three days.
Or maybe four.  Today is day four.  I've cried a little less today.  Allowing myself time to think and process life now.
I won't be delivering a baby in October.
I won't be pregnant through summer.
So...what then? I can give blood.  I can drink coffee.  I can train for and run that Marathon I'd signed up for (last year) in August.  I can backpack in the Fall.
All meaningless.
All completely meaningless.
I wanted the baby.  I wanted my child.  I wanted to feel her kick in my womb.  I wanted to birth her into my arms, and nurse her in the silence of the night.  I wanted to cloth diaper her bum and wrap her to me for Brielle's soccer games. I wanted to listen to Brielle SING to her. I wanted to smell her fresh baby scent.  I wanted to run with her in one of those jogging stroller contraptions, hike mountains with her on my back - and show her everything I love - and all I've learned in my life.  

Will, Brielle (even Josh & Tyler, though they don't live at home any longer), we all wanted her.

4 days.
That's how long I've had to adjust to my new reality.

Out-pour Poem#2 Day Three

today i am stripped of all pride, all dignity
i must to cling to Your promises and Your words
that speak the truth about me
i am exposed and today i do not care
what does it matter?
i would have given it all up, like You asked me to
i was willing and You knew it!
I was, and still am, willing to do whatever You ask of me.
That damn nacre.
i can grow hard, even in loving you
or i can heal
while You protect me
and grieve with me.
today i shed all pretenses of what i thought i knew
when I was shaken and suffering 
You reached in and rescued me
You saved my life.  To bring me here.  To give me joy.  
To overflow my cup of life abundantly.
Even knowing my heart would sacrifice to this outcome-
and You knew the pain it would bring me
how it would come close to consume me
and how I would question and wrestle the nonsense of it all
Still- You also knew I would know better
than to be tempted to submit to anything other than You.
By now, I know.
Nothing else will satisfy.  No drink.  No food.  No drug.
Not one person can hold me.  
You always do.
I am leaning in.  I am listening.  I am waiting.
I am searching and groping in the dark.
I am desperate.  I care so much less about everything unimportant.
I care so much less about what they'll say or think
If they'll balk or gasp, or whisper, or feel so sorry for me
Or if they'll even care.  
i am stripped of all pride, of all dignity
what You God - what you alone SAY- stands 
in the chasm of this pain
and I believe You will not waste this.