Maybe that's okay

It's been a weird week.
Sunday we learned that another pregnancy wasn't going to make it. Two days later, Ben hopped on a plane for Wisconsin. He never travels for work, yet this week, he's been gone. He comes home tomorrow.
We've spent this grieving period away from one another.
I don't know how I feel about it.
The kids have been a huge distraction, in the best way, because they have no idea what's going on and they simply don't let me sit alone for more than a few minutes at a time. We've made multiple Target runs and gone for walks and of course kept up with Logan's homeschooling.
But the distractions aren't 100% effective.
I'm still sad.
Still wondering what we do from here on out.
Still grieving the dream of growing this family.
Wondering, picturing what this means for us.
I've been reading about Job. I like him. I like how he isn't afraid to blame God, and I like how the bible says that even in his blaming God, he didn't sin.
I'm blaming God right now.
He could have saved this pregnancy, as well as the others.
He didn't and I don't know why.
But maybe I'm not supposed to know why.
Maybe I'll never know why.
And maybe that's okay.

Arrows

 
Psalm 127:3-5: Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one's youth. Happy is the man who has a quiver of them.

I've clung to the scripture above for quite some time. Probably since we started trying for our first child, 8 years ago. I always prayed for a quiver full of my own little arrows. I dreamed of a full house, of a handful of kiddos that could be siblings and best friends. I thought, thanks to the aforementioned verse, that the more kids I had, the more blessed I would be.

 Most of our quiver won't be held by us until we get to Heaven.

With this last loss, something changed in me. I realize now that our family is complete. Two is our quiver. Two is enough. Two is a hell of a lot more than some people get. It stings, it's definitely the loss of a dream. I mourn what could have been, and to be honest, yes, I am angry at God right now. Probably why I am okay with typing things like "hell of a lot" without obsessing over what my church friends will think. Because my heart hurts like hell. Miscarriage will wreck your marriage if you let it. We aren't going to let it. 

So we're done. We're grateful for our two. We're going to focus on our unit of four and not believe the lie that our family would be better, would have more love if only we could grow it. Because we can't grow it. God said no. And I am going to be okay with that. We really don't have another choice.
 

Raw

I know it was nothing I did wrong.
I know I ate exactly the right things, was proactive to the point of obsessiveness.
I did everything in my power to sustain this pregnancy.

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.

I woke up this morning with horrible pain. A trip to the bathroom confirmed my fears. We were losing pregnancy number five.

I am broken, I am confused, I am wondering why some women that don't even like kids get to have a handful.
I am wondering why my body keeps doing this, when on paper, I am healthy.
I am wondering why women who complain about how much pregnancy sucks get to have healthy, happy babies when those of us that fight with every ounce of our bodies, those of us that take the progesterone and practically live at the doctor's office and don't go anywhere near caffeine or lunch meat or nitrates still lose our babies. Again and again and again.

I have no answers.
No scripture to quote this morning.
Nothing.

My heart hurts.

I like thirty

I've been thirty for six months now.
I'm really liking it and that surprises me.
I was kind of afraid that this age would instantly turn my hair gray, kill my remaining eggs and give me wrinkles. I am happy to report that my worries were a bit dramatic. I still look the same.

But I'm different. I'm different and I am so much happier. For the first time in my life, I am comfortable in my own skin. I'm okay with me. That might sound so cheesy, but I've battled anxiety and body dismorphia off and on my whole life, and this is big.

I'm finally okay with who I am in Christ, who I am as a woman. At thirty, I realize, finally, that I don't have to be liked by every single person. I don't have to be the thinnest, or the funniest, or any of that.

It was so exhausting trying to be the girl that was all those things.

The truth is, sometimes I eat things that would make my Whole30 friends cringe. And I am not a bad person for it. 
The truth is, sometimes I don't smile all day long. Sometimes the thought of having to smile one more time is crazy overwhelming.
The truth is, I have never been perfect and as I age, my body is subtly changing. I have varicose veins from birthing big babies. I have two stretch marks on my belly. I used to be afraid to wear shorts. In Florida.
Not anymore.
I'm finally happy. Comfortable. I'm realizing that THIS body, flawed as it may be, is mine for life. So I can be good to it.
Thirty to me means I can finally feel confident. My twenties were a giant roller coaster of fear and playing it safe. Thirty means I am finally realizing that God has BIG, good plans for me and I can get excited about them.

I finally feel free.