Journal entry Jan 7th

I don't even know where to start tonight. Well, actually I do because I feel like I have a ton of things to unload. I've found that I've begun to get resentful when I want to write down a thought and I can't. Usually I can only journal at night when I'm alone without any interruptions. My thoughts come so quickly that I can't keep track of them and I feel like unless I write them down, they'll vaporize.

I've been thinking that maybe I should seriously consider writing a book, afterall, I have a lot to say. Haha. But how could I if I can't get it all out? Maybe I'm too full of myself.

So today has been one month. Seems that it went by really fast. I actually thought the 7th was tomorrow, which made me feel bad; like I should have been mourning all day or something. So this afternoon, on the computer I began to think about everything and kind of accepted the notion that Charlotte probably had T18. I was online at the Kaiser website and was looking up the characteristics and my sister came in. We spoke for a bit and I told her that I think Charlotte may have had it, then I said I know it really doesn't matter anyways. I felt like I was giving into my flesh needing answers rather than allowing for God to have ALL of the knowledge. Just then, Airenne called and I had to go. I guess there was my answer. "And He shall provide an escape..." I never returned to my search.

So later tonight, I was bombarded with more mental questions. I've found that they come when I'm still. I don't like it. That's when I feel like I should write things down, but I don't then I get frustrated and angry.

I was thinking about how maybe I should, or maybe I just want to, write another email to give an update of how I'm doing. Then I think, geez, how long will this go on? Is it all about me??

That's not what I want, but I feel like I almost owe it to people because I've dragged them through everything else with me. Maybe I'll try to start up a web page, just like the mom of Abigail did. I think that was her name...

Anyway, I read another book called "Silent Cradle". It was written by two sisters one that had lost her third child, and the other helped to write. She also had questions to prompt journaling, which was great. But I couldn't help the feelings I had though. To hurry up and "fill-in" my own pages as there were many differences in our opinions on grieving. I felt like I needed to defend myself or justify my feelings to no-one, or perhaps to everyone.

The book often times referenced being angry at God. But I'm not. I'm not trying to sound self righteous or anything, in fact, I've felt horrible thinking it was ok for Charlotte to die. Was it because of my reluctance of being pregnant or having to raise another child right now? Or was I comforted in KNOWING God is sovereign & providential. Have I been using these ideals as a scapegoat of denial? I suppose even the word "scapegoat" applies---as the priests of the Old Testament allowed for one as a sacrifice, which alludes to Christ--oh,I don't know...that thought was gone before I got it all out!

But has my hope been just a defense mechanism of my heart? I think not. I had BELIEVED things were going to be different. So did a lot of other people. Are they sitting on the same fence that I am right now, questioning what they had believed? I want to clarify that the question lies in WHAT I believed, not in WHOM.

I hope I have not shaken things up for people. Maybe I have. Maybe we all needed it. Sifting.

But I've been questioning myself. Why was THIS pregnancy different? What made me shout from the mountain tops everything that was happening. Why am I so willing to "move ahead" and consider more writing? I need to ask the Holy Spirit to search me. Am I wanting attention? This just doesn't seem to fit in with the other mom's experiences.

Speaking of, the other moms, I mean, almost all of them refer to their babies as stillborn. I've said it a few times but feel guilty for doing it, like it's minimizing Charlotte or dismissing her. I feel like I had a daughter that died, not a "still born". I've even described her death as "her heart stopped beating before she was born" or, "yes, I did have a baby but she passed away". I wonder if these feelings will ever be replaced. Or if I will ever sprout angry roots towards God. I hope not.

I found myself the other day going to the bank to pay for the mortgage. For the last 3 months I've walked in the payment and spoken with the teller who always commented on my pregnant figure. I was actually excited to go in and tell her "Yes, I did have my baby. She was perfect looked like her big brother." Then I knew what the next line would be "...but she passed away." That would make me so sad. So when I went in, I took Mathias...everyone was looking at him so much they didn't even ask about Charlotte. But that was ok. Maybe I wouldn't have been as "up to it" as I thought.

There was something that was kind of funny that happened 3-4 days after she was born. (Goes to show how self centered I can be).... Brian, the boys and I were going to develop the pictures of Charlotte when we saw Bobbi. She was walking to her car and we were walking into the store when I said "hi". Well, apparently, she didn't know anything, because in her big hug hello she asked when the baby was due! You know, my first reaction was "Crap! I still look pregnant?" So I then explained everything and she apologized profusely. Still makes me chuckle.

But as for the Silent Cradle book, I think I'll keep it around. The journaling questions are good. I suppose the biggest difference between the author and myself is her anger towards God and my lack of it. My lack of anything, really.

I don't feel depressed, per se, just more relaxed. The things that used to bug me like the house being messy or whatever, have now taken a backseat. But other things have made me more fearful. For instance, I want Brian around me all the time. Way more than usual. I noticed it in the hospital. He had to go out to use the bathroom and I asked him to hurry up and come back. I was almost scared.

So now we're re-modeling Airenne's bathroom. I thought "what a perfect project" Brian will be at home with me, we'll get the ugliness in the bathroom taken care of AND have a great sense of accomplishment!" I realized that last one after reading that book too. That yes, I do feel like I need to "complete" something. I know Charlotte was not "my fault", but I do have the urge to prove that I can make something good again.

In other books that I've read I noticed that I turned way more to the sections for newborn deaths over miscarriages or stillbirths. How weird that I would even care. But she was my 'baby'. Not 'a' stillborn. I bet all moms feel like that.

This writing feels good. Takes the edge off. But it's overwhelming how suddenly a thought of Charlotte floods my mind and my heart. I've been carrying around her photo album in my purse, just in case I run into someone. At least I have those to share. Can't pass around a bubbly baby; but I do have the pictures.

It's ironic though. The pictures are somewhat ugly. I mean, it's of a dead baby. But I treasure them more then anyone else's. That's all I have now. That and the castings.

Can I make it one night with out crying?? I will try tonight. I've had a perpetual headache for a month. Tomorrow I'll try to get a grip on my fleeting thoughts. I've had a horrible memory lately. I have to literally keep a calendar. I hope that clears soon.

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