What the heck, God? Is there any harder virtue to master than patience?
I'm still waiting for the miscarriage. It's been 10 days. I have light signs of a change in my body, but nothing major. No signs that the miscarriage will happen soon.
I feel really out of it. As in, I'm a Carmelite who totally missed Teresa of Avila's Feast Day yesterday.
Today, I drove myself and two little girls to Walmart yesterday for meat, milk and diapers. I felt so proud of myself. It was the first time I left the house since the bad news. I got the girls in their shoes. Abigail wore pajama bottoms because she has no other clean clothes--but at least they were clean pajama bottoms.
Driving into Walmart, I saw a big sign for Halloween Costumes. I started crying while I was driving. It's unbelievable how many times I thought about my baby during the day. Maria wanted to buy a Halloween costume for the new baby this year. We had a big discussion about how Leo would still be in my tummy this Halloween, but next Halloween we could dress him up. We had this huge chat about what baby outfits we picked for him to wear next year. When I drove up to Walmart, I saw a sign and I thought 'Leo's never going to get to wear a Halloween costume."
I know that's so little. A better Catholic would be mourning "Oh, he'll never to receive the Eucharist." The point about unborn babies is that they are so real, they are so tangible. There were hundreds and hundreds of moments every day that I thought about being pregnant. I avoided extra cups of coffee, or allergy medicine. I thought about him when I had nausea. I thought about him in the Halloween Costume aisle while researching ideas with his older sisters. So now there are hundreds of moments during the average day I remember again, "He's not coming."