Here is where I stomp my foot and say ENOUGH ALREADY, DEATH.
A couple in our church had a stillborn baby over the weekend. The mother was just a few weeks ahead of me. We are not close friends, just acquaintances, but it's a small church, and we had smiled at each other and asked how things were going.
It's ridiculously scary to contemplate. Even with this pregnancy being high risk (which I haven't written about here, but I guess I should) I have not been anxious. I have been guarded, yes, and not blissfully carefree as I was with Thomas. Still, pregnancy makes me incredibly mellow. I never dwelled on what could go wrong last time, and THIS time, well - we're doing everything we can to ensure we have a healthy baby. I take a lot of comfort in that.
But, this. It's just too much. I'm so very, very sad for this family. I'm so tired of the relentless breath of death. I feel like it started with Newtown and I don't mean to dwell on tragic things, but goodness. Even my mom said, when I told her the sad news, that she can't remember a year where she's attended so many funerals. I know there are years like this, I said to her, but I am ready for this one to be over. As if by turning a page on the calendar, things magically change. But it can feel that way, the way we interpret time.
I was sheltered so long, from having my heart broken in this particular way. This is part of being human - the dreadful part, I suppose. In the meantime, I would like to trick Death with a handy Invisibility Cloak or the Elder Wand.
But tonight, I made soup, which is therapeutic for any soul in trouble. I will try to pray, even if it feels like the words hit the ceiling. I listened to music - Dave Matthews for old time's sake - and reached out to friends, because we can't do this alone. We simply can't - being human is too unbearable, at least until darkness fades, and the light slips back over the horizon.