Time does not heal all wounds.

It’s been one month and one day. Since losing my baby, I have:

• Started my math class and taken my first test
  
• Purchased an exorbitant amount of BeautiControl products for a try at being a consultant and making some extra cash
  
• Lost 1 pound
  
• Had daily headaches
  
• Finally learned how to properly apply and blend eye shadow and blush
  
• Found my perfect lip-color
  
• Ridden an emotional rollercoaster
  
• Had a lot of bad dreams, including one about rotten seafood in my oven and another about being held captive by a violent homicidal person and facing death
  

I have found it is possible to be in a great mood and even have a good day while still feeling gray about everything in general. I have sadness. It never leaves. I honestly don’t care to be around other people because most of them either don’t know what’s happened or don’t understand how I feel. Even people I’ve talked to who’ve had this experience aren’t helpful. They say “You can try again!” or “everything happens for a reason.” I know both of those statements to be true, but it doesn’t help. Mr. Me and I both feel like we’re floating on this ocean all alone. Mostly I want to stay at home with my husband and daughter. I wouldn’t care if I didn’t get out of the house, to be honest, because everywhere we go, things seem to be thrown in our faces.

Everyone says that time will make it easier. I don’t know if I believe it or not just yet. I think that time temporarily closes some wounds, but not well enough that they can’t rip open again. For example, a week and a half after I miscarried, when I finally started to feel just a smidge better about things, my brother and his girlfriend announced their own pregnancy. She’s due around the same time I would have been. I had (still have, honestly) serious issues with this. I don’t know how to feel about it. My first reaction was shock. And then it was like the entire process began all over again, like I was miscarrying a second time. Shock, confusion, rage, tears, screaming. I found out just before I left work for the day. The drive home was scary; I couldn’t see or think straight.

I’m trying VERY hard to lean on God during this time. I know that Satan just loves that I’m feeling this way, and I am determined NOT to be an easy target.