Honesty. And all the feelings.

There's a sinking feeling in my stomach.It's been here for three days now, non-stop, but then, too, it's been there in fleeting moments on and off for... months.It's this stomachache I get that's grief induced.Or at least, I think it is.I just want to be that girl that's happy and has it all going my way. I don't want life to be hard. Maybe I'll act like everything is okay, or normal. Oh, the thoughts that race through my mind.In the car tonight [after a good weekend of rest and family time] we sat parked outside our house. Lights off, car still running.I just don't know how to continue to grieve I said out loud.To be honest, I don't know how, and I don't want to do it. I really don't want to do it.I want the quick fix. I want to be done now with it all. I want it to feel like the light stone in my pocket instead of the heavy boulder, and I want to be on the other side of the hard parts and moved on to the greener pastures. I don't want it to hurt as much.I don't want to do this. I don't want to keep wading in the murky waters of grief. I don't want it to be hard. I want to go back to how I used to be, with the same capacities I've always had, with the same not-bitter-still-sweet joy that used to come so easily.I want my innocence back.We live in a world of instant gratification and convenience. When my computer takes sixty seconds instead of ten to log onto the wifi, I get annoyed. When I walk into Panera, I go straight to the fast kiosk, because it's quicker to get my food. Better yet, I order ahead of time, online, and it's ready by the time I arrive.When something's broken, I fix it. Or buy a new one.So when my heart is broken but there's no end in sight in the "fixing" stage, I get the angst in the pit of my stomach that doesn't. go. away.How many weeks can my answer to the simple question, how are you, be "okay" or "as expected" or "hanging in there"? The honest answer in my soul that I want to scream out is: STILL NOT OKAY, STILL REALLY SAD, STILL REALLY MAD THAT MY BABY DIED. But even I try to mask it in my answer, because the person asking me doesn't really want to hear that, and I want to pretend like it's not true.So I say -- things are going pretty well.The last thing I want to do is be isolated and misunderstood. The other last thing I want to do is engage in social interactions of any sort and act how I really feel.So where does that leave me?Mostly, with the wind having escaped my lungs and also like there's an elephant sitting on my chest.I have no real point to sharing all this. There's no good way to wrap this up, no encouragement or wisdom, no happy ending to my story tonight. I want there to be one, so desperately, that I attempted to manufacture this incredible virtuous thing to say [to myself, even] in response to all of what I've written. But just like I don't need someone to act like they have the answer or the solution for me or like they get it when they don't... I don't need to do that for myself either.But, I want to keep writing. I have great dreams for this space and great healing when I enter into it. I want to keep processing and I want to remember. I want to look back and see where God has led me and where I have come.  So here it is. The un-pretty. The un-wrapped-up.The honesty.I miss Jacob. I love him so deeply. I wish I could see him learning to crawl right now. I'm sad that this is still my story, and it always will be. I'm trying to grow in not being so self-absorbed. My arms still ache for him, though, and my dreams are still filled with the subconscious processing. And some of them - they're more like really sad nightmares. I still know that God is good. I still believe it in my heart. But I still have that stomachache. The joys and the sorrows. I know they go together.I'm still holding out -- for the hope that's to come.

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Disclaimer: I'm not stiff-arming the grief. Don't worry. It's just that it's so tiring. I'm actively taking steps in processing, in seeking outside counseling and support, and in giving myself space to process and to cry. But I'm also giving myself space to be sad and angry and hurt and weary. This is one of those times. And I think that's okay, too.