It seems like I am floating, without a tether, without a compass, without a map.
It seems that there are a flurry, a fury of things that vie for resolution.

How I nourish my little, is one item.

There is a group I have been upon the outskirts of for quite some time. More recently, I am being slightly, randomly drawn in. Now I am a part, I guess. Now I am quested after. However, it took me having a baby having a living baby for that to happen and it is still leaps from full inclusion. Yet, they as of me. Ask for the finite resources I am not sure I would like to give.

Budgeting is great and money is stupid.

The few ladies I became accustomed, or at least expectant to speak with seem to be indisposed. Though it is possible I pronounce harshly.

I just. Seem. Unhooked. What holds me where I am? What brings me back to itself? Caresses my cares, soothes my hurt, reassures my doubt?

I know. I know what it should be. What I should say.

67 So Jesus said to the twelve, “Do you want to go away as well?” 68 Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life,69 and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.” John 6: 67 – 69

Where shall I go? For You have the words of eternal life.

But, even that feels like defeat. Should I not be capable of steering somewhat? Should that be an answer to my utter frustration? Should I have been here already? Before? How much sooner?

What was I doing with my life, all this time? I should be wiser. More well-spoken. Better traveled. Have more to offer to my family.

My family. Is it really mine? Is this hurting three of truly four mine? Is it mine we are one less? It sure seems like it. It sure seems like, had I made another decision we might be rightfully four. Or, or would we be three without this little four? Who does this? Who sets up family increases just to KNOCK THEM BACK DOWN?

But we are not three because just three are visible. We are four and hurting.

I looked into cremation services. For my son. That we buried. Nearly TWO YEARS ago.

And while I may not cry as often, the deepening loss is perpetual. Shall I bring him home? Knowing that his tiny little vessel no longer houses his heart of hearts? That his mind is not there? Where is my son? Who has him? Why won’t they give him back? Why give him to me, let me feel him, know him, play with him, see his incredibly still chest on the monitor, birth him, smell him, hold him, place him against me in an attempt to warm him, understand the true meaning of death in his lifeless earthly form, kiss his confoundedly impossibly heart-shatteringly unjustly cold face, watch him be taken away again and again? Go through the same things with his sister. But watch her breathe, learn, grow, develop, exceed. Every moment colored. Each milestone hosts a murmur:

This should be my second time doing this. When would Charlie have done this? What would he be doing now? Would he be encouraging her? What difficulties might he have had? Where is he now? Why isn’t he here?

It is not her fault. But we I have been waiting for a baby for two years and she is moving rather quickly toward toddler.

Now, our BEST EXPECTATIONS is her pointing to a grave, smiling, saying, “Charlie!”

This is our best case scenario for our children knowing each other.

And I am met with such meaninglessness that it demeans and lowers my grief: The Lord knows. God needed him. Put it out of your mind. Maybe there would have been something wrong with him (As if I would be more okay with a dead child than a sick one – both hurt). It will get better soon (If you are not speaking from exact experience, even if you are – go away). Have another one (This one just blows my mind.) Challenging my count of children (Go away and never come back).

Meanwhile, another can mourn their damn dog for months and continue to receive public sympathy while my timeline ran up around, oh, 6 weeks.

And I am floundering in  all of these things.

Maybe one day someone will find me. I have no idea where she ran off to. But I hope she is safe from the suffering of this world there. Maybe she should just stay put.