Pardon my French...but I'm calling Bull Sh**!

When I started this blog I figured..."oh, someday it will be a great place to uplift and support other women and families trudging though the aftermath of a Late Miscarriage."

But...the more I write...the more my words reach a depth inside of myself that on some days I can't seem to understand, find or make sense of.

My blog is a safe place to reassure MYSELF that, hopefully, at some point, this pain...this grief...this sense of feeling worthless...this yell at the sky...this punch the couch...this absolutely life changing sorrow...will one day make me a stronger person. A better friend. A more grateful mother.

 I don't know how. I don't know why. I just do. Because if I believe for a second that there wasn't a Damn good reason for having to go through all of this...I would loose my freaking mind.

So lately I have been searching for something. That one certain thing, that will click...that thing that will just make sense...that will just sooth my sole...that will make me feel some what put back together. Complete. Whole again.

Scripture verses. Praying. Writing. Driving. Being overly tired. Being overly scheduled. Going to the temple. Talking with people. Service. Not talking with people. Watching mind numbing amounts of stupid shows. Etc.

Unfortunately, I haven't found my one thing. And the worst part is, that nobody can relate to me personally to help me out. No one seems to understand where I'm at. So I have to put on a front and BS my way through my day.

I just want to NOT have this event define the rest of my life. But I'm still not sure how to move forward. How does one become "okay" with the fact that their never going to be able to experience this life with their child? How do you just "get over" it?

I mean, I can get over the fact that a favorite sports team didn't win a big game. I can get over not being skinny, ever...again. And I can certainly get over not eating a favorite candy. I can get over not buying a certain house, car, clothing or shoes. But how do you become so desensitized to fact that your child is never coming back? I can't just get over the fact that Harbor died.

So...

I'm calling Bull Sh** on..."Getting Over" my son's death.
I'm calling Bull Sh** on...me writing to help others.
I'm calling Bull Sh**...on this whole thing.