Day 8 of 100 Days of Grief

"Here is the world.  Beautiful and terrible things will happen.  Don't be afraid."

-Frederick Buechner

I feel like that last post was kind of all over the place.  I'm having a hard time concentrating.  That is something I wasn't expecting.  Doing normal everyday things is hard.  I can't focus on things for very long and something I've done multiple times is incredibly difficult.  I remember there was one day that I was trying to give Hannah a shower.  I washed her hair and cleaned her body and got her out of the tub.  I told her to go get dressed and then I went and got in the shower myself.  I remember her trying to tell me something outside my bathroom and I couldn't hear her and I was so frustrated.  I got out of the shower and opened the door and yelled at her that I just needed five minutes to shower.  She looked up at me and said, "but mom my head itches."  I looked in her hair and I had forgotten to wash out the conditioner.  Her hair was matted with conditioner.  

There was also the time I tried to cook some beets in the instant pot.  I read the instructions, I put them in and I waited for them.  It told me to let them natural release for a 7 minutes and so when I saw the number 7 I let it release.  I opened up the lid and tried stabbing them and they were still rock solid.  I was frustrated and I tried it 2 more times.  It wasn't until the my mom came in on the last round and told me that I was releasing it when it was still at pressure.  I've used the instant pot countless times but I couldn't focus enough to realize how it was working.  

There are the times that I forgot Hannah at school.  There are the times that I would drive right past Henry's school when I was supposed to be dropping him off.  I burned so many meals.  I threw away important papers while trying to organize.  I made stupid mistakes and it was so frustrating.  I just couldn't focus.  It's like I'm in my head so much that I can't focus on what is going on around me.  

Anyway, that was a random tangent from what I'm actually supposed to be writing about.  This prompt talks about your search for meaning.  The first question I had after losing my hope was that heart wrenching "why?".  It doesn't make sense in your brain.  Any of it.  I had a friend tell me that I shouldn't ask the questions of "why" because you shouldn't question God's ways.  You need to just have faith that God knows why things happen and have faith that someday you'll understand.  I'm not sure that for me that's possible.  And I think you should be able to ask why.

I loved this point.  "Remember that having faith or spirituality does not eliminate your need to mourn.  Even if you believe in an afterlife of some kind, you and this child have still lost precious time together her on Earth.  It's normal to feel dumbfounded and angry at God or whatever source with the universe you may believe has permitted this to happen."  

I think the religious culture that I grew up in and live in right now makes it even harder understand why things are happening.  I grew up knowing that I was going to be a mom because that was the greatest calling a woman could have.  But what happens when you want kids and you can't have them?  Or what happens if you want more and you can't have them?  What does that mean?  Does God not trust you to have children?  My identity is surrounded by being a mom but what happens when you can't be a mom or can't be a mom to more kids?  It just doesn't make sense.

Todays prompt is this: Start a list of "why" questions that have surfaced for you since your miscarriage.  Find a friend or counselor who will explore (not tritely answer) these questions with you and help you arrive at your own answers over time.  

Are you ready for the questions because my head is full of them.  Here goes:

Why can't I have more children?

Why do my babies keep dying?

Why was I so sick and still lost my baby?

Why do doctors tell you that if you're sick it means the baby is okay?

Why did I get pregnant after I had just made peace with not being pregnant?

Why did God tell me to have hope when I was just going to lose another baby?

Why was it so easy to have Hannah and Henry and now we can't make them right anymore?

Why does it hurt so much?

If I had eaten more would my baby still be alive?

Did I kill my baby when I had an allergic reaction to the vitamins?

Why do people that don't want children get them and those that want them so much don't?

Why do I have to keep going through this?

Why didn't I know earlier so I could have cherished the moments more with Henry and Hannah when they were babies?

Am I giving up on having kids too easily?

Should I keep hoping that I can have more kids somehow?

I know there are more questions but for now those are the ones that cycle in my head endlessly.  If anyone has any answers for me I'd love some help.  In the book it also says, "For some parents the only answer is this: Miscarriage does not make sense and it never will."  I have a feeling that that response may answer them.  It just doesn't make sense.