Will I ever get over it?

From time to time, I asked myself this: Will I ever get over it? I want to be brave enough to get over it, but will I?

Miscarriage is not just an event or just a past history, folded underneath with all your other well-kept secrets, hidden away from your possible future. At least not for me -who have been trying to have a lil bump for 3 years. My miscarriage scarred me to the core, more than I would imagine, more than I know how to handle. 

I cried for two weeks straight so that I won't have any tears left (to cry). I was really sneaky; picking times when my husband was away at work -to cry. Just so that I could cry like a five-year old. Just so that I could cry myself to sleep. Just so that he won't feel obliged to comfort me. Because I need no comfort. I just need to cry. 

Little by little, I gained courage to face the world. To face my job. To face other pregnant women and trying not to hate them. But when I told my mom, the first thing she said was: What were you eating? Were you having a lot of stress? Were you working too much? 

I closed my phone and I broke into tears (again). Where is the 'omg, are you ok?' 'Do you need help? Do you need me there?' 'Get a lot of rest. Don't think too much about it' -type of thing. More than sad, I was helpless. More than a doctor, I need a mother. 

I have got no choice other than to burry this with all my other insignificant silent frustrations.

I have got no choice other than picking myself up again, putting a brave fake -'for my own sake'. 

Then the blame game begins:

Stress? Multi-vitamins? Long shift hours? Lemsip I took for flu? Fisherman's Friends? Expired augmentin? Tiger Balm? 

Oh please. That doesn't change what has happened. It won't undo what has been done. The end result is still the very same painful event. I know for a fact that most likely my pregnancy ends because of chromosomal abnormalities. Yes, of course, there might be a lot of other environmental factors involved. But trying to play the blame game is really a losing game. And it's a really painful game for me to play. 

I went back to work having only one week of sick leave. Colleagues got pregnant and they told me how easy they have it. They were talking about having to buy new clothes because the current ones don't fit anymore. They are already planning baby's names. I smiled and gave words of encouragement which I didn't mean at all. As if they are the ones who took my baby away from me. As if they don't deserve to be happy if I'm not. I am such a bitch yet I couldn't help it. 

Time after time, I am so drawn to my own emotional needs. I am spending far too much time and energy to be the 'victim'. What else could I be? It is so much comforting if you could blame everything on someone else. And clearly in this case, I am blaming God. 

The thing is, the more I resent God the more I want Him. The more I need Him.

As I struggled with my anger towards Him, it is Him who always come back to me and gives me peace. When I felt a piece of me was gone, it is Him who made it whole again. When I was desperately

clinging to my own insecurity, it is He who gives me freedom -to believe again. 

You might not understand what that means to me. It's like going through the process of death, with every single details, and was given the chance to live again. For the second time. With the same and equal opportunities. 

Truthfully, coming through the end of this and still survived doesn't make me an angel who wants to tell the world what God has done for me. Neither did I make any public announcement of how God has saved me. It is simply enough for me to know that God is real. And that He just want me to know that He is there for me. And I do know that NOW.