I feel like I'm stuck in the middle of a tornado..

"No one will ever know the strength of my love for you. Afterall, you're the

only one who knows what my heartbeat sounds like from the inside."

 -Anonymous

I haven't written in a long time.. I'm not really sure why, to be honest. Probably because of the holidays, and my purposeful acts of keeping myself busy. Life is.. well, it sucks. I was doing so well, too..

My mom informed me that my middle sister over-heard my mom talking.. she knows now. It breaks my heart, especially because mom said that my sister cried hysterically because she was so upset.. both for me, and that she didn't get to be an aunt. Her exact words were: "Hasn't she been through enough, Mom!?" I ask myself that everyday, sissy. I don't know why this has happened to me.. I really don't know. Everything reminds me of the sweet little baby I'll never hold.. the little face I'll never kiss. Everything reminds me of my papa, and how I wish I could call him, one more time.. I'd give anything to listen to him ramble about computers for an hour and a half.. Seriously, I'd give anything.. I thought things had finally started to sink in, and that my heart was healing. I was wrong. Today, was the roughest day I've had in a while. First of all, I spent the majority of the day with my best friend, trying to induce her labor. We were unsuccessful.. thank God. Don't get me wrong, I love her and the son she carries in her belly. I love that little boy like he were my own flesh and blood.. but that doesn't make my envy go away. Although, I wish it would.

In fact, I wish I could just.. make ALL of this go away. The same pregnant friend was talking about her upcoming June wedding.. and she mentioned how one of her bridesmaids is pregnant. Anyone care to guess what that bridesmaid's due date is? That's right: June 26, 2012.. the same day I was due. If that's not a sick, cruel joke.. well, I'm not really sure what is. Like, what the HELL did I do. I feel like "fate" is making a mockery of me. I have to spend the next seven and a half months doing wedding shit with her. Not only that, but I will have to spend an ENTIRE day with her, 10 days before her due date. As if that wasn't bad enough, it's not like I can just pout, or even decide not to go. No, I get to stand next to her, in front of hundreds of people, and put a fake ass smile on my face. Sure, I'm happy for my friend. But I'm not happy I'll have to stand next to the bitch who stole my due date. Like, screw you, chick. You stand there in you giant, pregnant glory while I just.. just.. DIE inside. No big deal.

I realize her being pregnant and due on my due date is not her fault, she doesn't even know who I am. But that doesn't make me any less pissed off. Not to mention that I found out today that my aunt and cousin are moving cross-country to be there when my other cousin's baby is born. However, it's a permanent move.. and I'm very close to both of them. It's cool, I'll just have NO effing extended family out here. No worries.

I feel so.. lost. And hopeless. ALL. THE. TIME. Even now, as I type this, I am near-sobbing. I'm so broken and empty inside.. I really thought I was healing, but I feel like I'm only getting worse. Everyone around me is having babies, or getting engaged, or married. Everyone is so.. happy. Why don't I deserve any of that? I don't know what I did.. I really don't. Please, God, show me what I did wrong.. I really don't know that I can take any more disappointment in my life.. I need something happy, something to smile about. Today marks one month ago that I found out I'd lost my baby.. I think my mind remembered, because I woke up this morning with red, puffy eyes. I know I didn't cry last night before bed, so that can only mean I was sobbing in my sleep. The thing is, that happens alot. I cant sleep at night, I have no appetite, I'm exhausted all day, my vision is even out of whack.. and I'm pretty sure I cry in my sleep.. put that in combination with the amount that I cry when I'm awake.. I spend alot of time shedding tears. I really wish I knew what to even do with myself anymore.. four days until 2012.. Maybe, just maybe, this fresh new year will bring a fresh new start. Probably just wishful thinking..

Thanks for checking in,

Mal

Rest in peace..

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the

LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
-Deuteronomy 31:6

December 6, 2011 is another day, burned into my mind.. I will never forget the strange phone calls Andrew recieved from my mother. I won't forget sitting in the kitchen with my sisters waiting for my mom to get home, wondering all the while what was going on. As soon as my mother came around the corner into the kitchen, I looked at her and said "Who died?" Her lip quivered and tears began to fall as she said one word: "Papa." My grandfather, and my mother's father, had died early on the morning of December 6 in his bed at home, in his sleep. He was 76.

In 10 days, I lost my baby, my job, and my grandfather.. I'd never been so angry and hurt in my life. I was very close to my grandfather.. We shared a passion for photography, and a way with remembering numbers. My family and I flew cross-country to California the very next day. I've never been so UNexcited for a trip in my life.

Thursday, December 8, 2011 was the very last time I ever laid eyes on him. Our family chose to have him cremated, so it was a private viewing held by the crematorium. There was eight of us who went.. He looked exactly as I remembered him, and I am thankful for that. We stood there for what felt like forever, all hugging each other. Gradually, everyone left, until it was my aunt and I standing there.. I kissed my left hand, and softly touched his forehead for the very last time, and I told him I loved him. Later that night, I was asked to speak at his memorial service two days later. I've included a copy of my speech below:

"My name is Mallory, and I am the eldest daughter of Mary Ellen. I’d like to start off with a verse from the book of Psalms. Psalms chapter 127, verses 3-5 say: “Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb, a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.” I wish I could put into words how appropriate this particular verse is. Papa was one of the most loving people I have ever known. A lot of what I have learned about love has been from him and my grandmother. My papa was so proud of his family, especially of his grandchildren. It would always make me smile when I would hear my mom or an aunt or uncle tell me how he would tell the nurses at the hospital about “HIS firefighter.” My grandfather’s pride in me is part of what pushed me, every day, to finish my paramedic course, to have courage when facing fears as a firefighter. In fact, he bragged about all of us, to anyone who would listen. For example, Andrea shares Papa’s passion for music. Tiffany, Tracy, and Andrea all have impressive height. Abby is a dedicated tumbler and Papa was so impressed by her back handsprings and flips. All four of Vincent’s children have beautiful vocal talents, and of course,  Papa was so proud of the birth of his first great-grandchild: beautiful baby Tressa. Anyone who knew him knows that he was good at talking people’s ears off. But anyone who knew him also knows that he wanted to make sure he was caught up on everyone’s news. He loved to catch up on us and our lives.

One recent memory of Papa that I have was the day I graduated high school. Nana and Papa had flown to Indiana for the occasion. They had gotten seats front-row in the handicapped section, as it was easier on them than walking up the bleachers. After they called my name and given me my diploma, I walked down off the stage. As I walked to my seat, I heard “Mally! Mally!” being yelled at me. I looked to my left to see Nana and Papa both smiling and waving frantically at me to get my attention. I felt so proud of myself to see them so happy for me. However, my favorite memory has to be the last conversation I held with my grandfather on his 76^th birthday. I had called to tell him to tell him happy birthday. He told me he was feeling so much better, and that he had finished his chemo and radiation a few weeks before, and that we were just waiting for his next x-ray. He asked me about my life, and how my firefighting was going, and how my boyfriend, Andrew was doing. We talked for a long while, going back and forth about life. In hindsight, I am beyond thankful that we had that talk. He told me he loved me very much, and that him and Nana were very proud of me. I remember chuckling and saying I loved him too. His passing was such a shock for us all, and I feel blessed and very lucky that God allowed me to have a happy, proper goodbye with my Papa, even if I didn’t know at the time that it would be my last. I will miss him every day, for the rest of my life. But it does my heart good to know that he’s no longer suffering, and is looking down on each of us. Just as he was proud of us, I think I can speak for my cousins when I say that I am proud to have been his grandchild. Thank you."

My great-uncle Vernon came up to me following the service to tell me that my Papa had sent him picture after picture of me in my uniform. He told me that my grandfather was deeply proud of me, and that he wanted me to know that.

We each got an afghan of my grandmother's and got to take our pick of SEVERAL beanie babies that she had collected over the years. (It was the first time all of her granchildren had been in the same place at the same time ever.) I got several, but I made sure to take every angel I found.. I ended up with three. You may wonder why that is of any significance.. Well, I have two big angel beanies, and one little: Papa, my cousin Jimmy, and my baby. Funny how life works like that..

Tuesday, December 13th, we spread papa's ashes off of the Huntington Beach pier.. it was very peaceful and beautiful. I was so excited when we got to run down to the shore. Squishing the sand between my toes and feeling the cold water cover my feet made me feel like a little kid again. I took the opportunity to draw three hearts in the sand, one for each of my angels. It was even supposed to rain that day, and my angels sent us bright, warm sunshine instead. I feel like after the last 9 days, I can move on. I am still mourning and very sad, but I feel at peace. Must be my angels telling me they're ok. Maybe it's time I listen to them..

Dennis Allen Boyd

October 15, 1935-December 6, 2011

Rest in peace, Papa.

Does this get any easier?

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. - Isaiah 41:10

It's been several days since I've posted (obviously). I spent the day with my friend Mandy and my "nephew" Rhiley on Thursday and Friday. Rhiley (otherwise known as Monkey) turned the big O-N-E on Friday. He's come so far in the 8 months I've known him. I love that little boy so much.. Thursday was awesome, as was most of Friday. Friday afternoon, I woke him up from a nap to get him ready to go meet up with Mandy at her parents' house and he just smiled at me. It was precious. Long story short, we had a good day making cupcakes for his party and just overall hanging out. We ate dinner at Todd and Mandy's that night, and Andrew had come down as well. Everything was great, Rhiley babbling and crawling around.. and then he looked at Andrew and said "Dada." I wanted to die. I know it's not his fault, and he certainly doesn't know any better.. but that situation was quite possibly one of the most upsetting I've been in since my loss. Obviously, I don't blame him.. but it doesn't make it any less frustrating. Sigh.

I was able to spend a LOT of time with Andrew this weekend, and I really needed it. I'm still having separation anxiety, but I feel like it's getting a little better.. or at least that's what I'm telling myself. He is seriously a god send. He makes me laugh, even when I don't want to. I was deathly ill all weekend with that pukey crap that's going around. He did his best to take care of me, poor guy. He's having to do that alot lately.. I feel so guilty. At least I know he loves me, because God knows I love the shit out of him! The man is a saint, simple as that.

You know what REALLY pisses me the hell off? People. Specifically: stupid people. Umm, hi. I just had a frickin miscarriage 9 days ago, don't tell me to just "get over it." I'm sorry that people think that they since they did, know someone who did, or think that they would get over it in a matter of day (or  even hours with some people), I AM NOT YOU. My baby was a miracle. A gift from God. I am hurt and angry and sad and cofused as to why He took him away, but that is irrelevant. I am entitled to freaking grieve, OK!? I'm not even joking, the next person to tell me that it's time I move on.. yeah, they're going to get smacked.

Rant over. Next subject.

I've been searching long and hard for the song that would really speak to me.. well tonight I found it. I'm not sure why.. But I feel like the music to most of the miscarriage/infant loss songs is cheesy. Not all of them, but alot of them. On the other hand, the lyrics.. Generally, the lyrics are amazing. My favorite is "borrowed angels" (mentioned in one of my other posts). The chorus is my absolute favorite part, it gets me everytime. But to listen to the lyrics with the music.. ugh. Of course when im having an emotional break down (like I did tonight), I tend to look past the cheesy music and am able to focus on the words.. Anyways. The song I am totally relating to at the moment is "Streets Of Heaven" by Sherrie Austin. You can find a video with the song here. It's powerful, to me at least. Granted, my child wasn't seven years old, but you get the point..

Lately I go back and forth between the anger/depression.. But I am also starting to SLOWLY realize the reason God took my baby. I may not ever like it, but I think I might be starting to understand it.. I think maybe, I needed to lose this baby so that when I have my forever babies, I will love them that much more. I have been on such an emotional rollercoaster lately, and feel like I'm snapping at everyone. But at the same time, I feel like I'm learning a whole new meaning to love. A whole new WAY to love. It's going to take time, but I'm on the very long, slow, path to healing. I will tell my future children about this one day when they're old enough.. why? Because I want them to know why their mommy loves them so much.. because my love for my children will be my world. My moon, my sun, my stars. That love will be immense, and immeasurable. I'm going to have some spoiled, lucky babies.. because this mama loves them already. Thanks for checking in.

-Mal