Yesterday marked 8 months. 8 months! Time is such a tricky thing. I wonder daily what my life would be like if I were a 'normal' person again... mother of two, without all the grief and heartache. I think back to when I was pregnant with Sebastion and how often I stated that I couldn't BELIEVE I was going to have two children... perhaps I knew from the start that something was wrong, but that never made me love him any less. I miss his active little kicks in utero, so much so that 8 months later, I still feel the phantom kicks. Phantom kicks are creepy I tell you. Creepy. I have taken more pregnancy test in the past 6 months than in the rest of my life combined, mostly due to phantom kicks... hell I suppose I could have just become this incredibly gassy person overnight or something, but I really think it is more than that. I miss him deeply, and apparently my body does as well.
While my 'mother-in-love' was visiting from out of state for my daughters third birthday we attended church, twice. These two visits have been the first I have stepped into a church since my son died. I have had my trials and tribulations with trusting god, and anger issues as well. My first visit back, I cried. Both sermons were based on "ARE YOU READY?" Are you ready for the second coming of Christ? For Armageddon and for the Rapture?... the teens performed a bit of a skit, if you will, and one girl in particular was more than I could take. The scene started with a woman being mugged and shot. Boom. Gone. Followed by a man and wife sleeping in bed. The man vanishes, she is left behind. Two men walking up a hill, one vanishes, one is left behind... Then those that are 'left behind' start to panic and run around screaming looking for their lost ones.... the girl screaming for her missing baby was more than I could handle. "MY BABY!! HAS ANYONE SEEN MY BABY?!!" The panic and disbelief in her voice were overpowering, and I cried. (She should think about acting school). Then Christ walks away with all of the 'chosen' ones, baby in arms, and those left behind huddle up and cry together... end scene. Really a lot more touching than my brief description, but that was the gist of it.
The following sunday... while Pastor Tim is preaching along the same thoughts of 'are you ready?' he begins talking about different reasons why certain people may have trust, or even belief, issues with god. He is pacing back and forth, back and forth, in the front of the church spewing about many reasons like financial issues, global crisis', tsunamis, earth quakes, death of a loved one, parents... and then he stops. Looks me dead in the eye and says: "How could god take my baby?". I think my heart skipped a beat. His eyes were locked with mine for at least 5 seconds... small amount of time in retrospect, but an eternity while happening. He then kept on walking and spewing on about how it wasn't god that made these things happen, it was the devil. And that if you (I) put faith and trust in god (Christ) then, and only then will you be able to heal, with HIS help. The thing is... he doesn't know. I am not an active member of this church. I had actually only attended this church a few times previous to this month, and it had been over a year since. I was attending a different church pre-death of a child. (Haven't been back to that one either) Keep in mind, I DO live in a small town, and this church is the church that my 'father-in-love' preached at when they lived in town, but that was 10 years ago. I don't know. Creepy. Apparently god was speaking to pastor Tim at that very moment and even if he didn't think twice about his actions, it left a mark on me, and D, and the mother-in-love who both caught on immediately to what was taking place. We discussed it in great detail later that evening.
On a happier note... D and I have rekindled our love and affection for one another and it seems the honeymoon phase CAN come and go:)