Here's something you should know: grieving is a strange, surprising thing. When I think I should be feeling sad, I don't feel it. And then, at the strangest of moments, it splashes all over me like a dumped bucket of ice water.
Grieving is flighty and unpredictable. I've found that I can have an entire week's worth of good days, and I'll think, I'm over the hump! I have a handle on this! Only to be followed by terribly low moments filled with tears and wildly swinging moods.
Last week was rough. An entire week's worth of low moments. To the point where I threw something out of anger. (It was only a sock.) But as I watched that stupid sock slide across the floor and skid to a halt I thought, where did that come from? My fits of anger were so sudden and surprising, and I was embarrassed. And then, of course, I cried.
But I realized something.
I was tired of feeling sorry for myself, tired of wondering when the next baby will come, tired of thinking about it all, day after day after day. Guys, being sad is exhausting.
So, I found Ryan, hugged him hard, and told him how I was feeling. He was glad I did, and said some wonderful things that made me feel so much better. And then I called my mom, who said these things:
1. Stop it.
2. Take a walk.
3. Enjoy your time with your husband, and do fun things with him.
4. Be creative. Do something artistic.
So I'm trying. I'm remembering that my God has all things in his keeping. I know that he will give me a baby when the time is right, and that it's really really dumb to sit and be sad until then. I'm giving my husband extra attention and love, because even at my grizzliest, he didn't complain once, and he deserves some smooches. I'm surrounding myself with happy things, colorful things, pretty things.
And it's working.