A brand new day

Today is a new day.

Yesterday I let the world know that our family lost another child. 

Yesterday was hard. I had moments where I cried. But as the day went on, I felt stronger. I actually laughed. 

 I felt guilty in the moments that I laughed. 

Who laughs the day after a miscarriage?

I do. 

Like I said previously, this was our fifth miscarriage. We've been here before. It doesn't make it any easier. At all. 

However, this means that I've grieved this situation four previous times. 

I've questioned God, been angry with Him, angry with myself, sad, guilty, basically the whole mish-mash of emotion that come with miscarriage. 

I'm also nearing 28, which mean I've had 28 years to get to know myself. 

One thing that I've learned about myself is that I crack jokes and make others and myself laugh when troubled times engulf us. 

When my grandma was dying I giggled when I remembered how she made me peel the wallpaper off her bathroom wall because it looked like a demon. 

When my grandpa was hospitalized, I was cracking jokes with my cousins while standing beside him. 

After my grandad passed away, my sister and I laughed roariously when we kept finding his multiple cigarette pack stashes. He was sneaky!

All of these examples are extremely innapropriate. I know this. However, I will let you cry if you let me laugh. 

This is how I move on. I feel that sadness is completely normal. I'm sad when I laugh. But laughter makes things seem normal again. It's like music to me. The people that we lose don't want us to be sad forever. 

When I die, I expect you all to wail and cry during my funeral because I'm a drama queen and like the attention. But the second you sit your butts down to nosh all of that glorious post-funeral food that the south is known for, I expect you all to tell the most embarrassing stories about me. I won't haunt you for it. 

Promise. 

My point in all of this is that life moves on. I can choose to move with it or stay stagnant. 

Which kind of water is prettier? 

The kind that is sitting still, algae covered, with Shrek  holed up in the middle? 

Or the clear water that flows through the twists and turns, overcoming rocks and logs in its way?

 I know which I choose. 

I still hurt. 

I still cry. 

I still laugh. 

I still breathe, though it's hard sometimes.

I still live. 

Living is important. It's more than your body continuing to function. 

It's Experiencing. 

I've been laughing with my two kiddos this morning and it's healed me so much. I have life to experience. 

And quite frankly, I just don't want to be sad. 

So if you see me acting normal and laughing, please don't think of me as cold. It's me healing. Respect it please.