I haven’t written about the girl or the baby all these months because I didn’t know what to say.

If you’re a new reader, you’ll have no idea what I’m talking about and I wouldn’t even know how to begin to summarize it for you.  I can’t even link to posts because they no longer exist after I deleted them in late-night moments of wanting to forget the experience ever happened, of feeling that I was wrong in describing how I felt that day she left.  All I know to tell you is that she was here, the baby was born and then she was gone.

Five months of my life summed up in three short words:

Here. Born. Gone.

– — –

I haven’t written about it because I didn’t want to hurt her.

And I still don’t want to, so this will be about me, not her.

It’s about my reactions.

Not her actions.

– — –

I think I’ve felt every emotion possible, each of them leaving a residue of guilt or regret.

I feel relieved when I sleep through the night without waking to a baby crying.

I feel embarrassed when people tell me I should have known better, should have expected it.

I feel angry when I go to pay the rent each month, frustrated with myself for being naive to think someone’s word could substitute for a signed lease.

I feel sad when I think about the day I threw away the unfinished scrapbook of letters I wrote to an unborn baby that wasn’t even mine.

But mostly I just feel failure every time I walk past the room that still holds an empty crib.

– — –

No matter how many people have told me that I’m not a failure, I know the truth: I failed her. At first it was just my assumption; later, confirmed.  It’s hard to argue with fact.

And it’s bothered me, the idea of failing her.  I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve laid staring at my bedroom ceiling, trying to recall every memory, every word spoken in an effort to figure out where I could have done better.  And I’m not afraid to tell you that I’ve found those places, seen flashbacks of moments when I could have given more.  I’ve tasted regret as I’ve cried myself to sleep, wishing I had of known how to love her better.

And yet it bothers me far more to wonder if I failed Him as well.

– — –

I heard a sermon not too long ago about the woman who poured her oil on Jesus’ head.  It was worth a year’s wages, all spilt for the One she loved.  It was an irrational, irrevocable act.

Irrational.

Irrevocable.

I can’t help but wonder if there was a moment when she realized what she had just done, when she realized that she had given something that could never be replaced, something spilt in front of her, an action she could never take back.

And I wonder if she thought, even for just a moment, “What have I done?”

– — –

I’m the one left cleaning up the mess, and I mean that quite literally.  She may have left months ago, but I’m the one still living with the empty crib, the physical reminders of this nightmare.  Judge me if you want but, at this point in the game, it still feels like a nightmare that I can’t wake up from.

There’s a framed picture I pulled off the nursery wall that’s been riding in the backseat of my car for weeks now; I make it all the way to the parking lot of the crisis pregnancy center but I can’t seem to bring myself to actually get out of the car and carry it inside.  And I’d put it back in the nursery, back where it belong with the changing table and stroller and the tiny little lamp waiting in the corner.

But I don’t go in that room anymore.

– — –

There’s no pretty bow to tie on this, no scripture to tack on the end.  I just want you to see that, sometimes, we’re still in the process of healing.  Will there be a night when I look at the oil I spilt during those five months and not feel regret?  Yes, I think that night will come.

That night isn’t tonight.  But it’s coming.

Comments closed.

Haven’t read The Shack yet, so I can’t say whether I agree with it or not but I did read a quote from it that I found interesting –

“You cannot produce trust just like you cannot “do” humility. It either is, or is not. Trust is the fruit of a relationship in which you know you are loved. Because you do not know that I love you, you cannot trust me.”

Agree? Disagree? I’m curious to know what you think.

First of all, I finally got around to posting the pictures from this past weekend’s surprise trip late yesterday afternoon if you haven’t seen them yet (and trust me, you don’t want to miss ALL MY CAPITAL LETTER EXCITEMENT OVER PINK THINGS).

And now, for today’s news: COUSIN CATE BROKE HER ANKLE, bless her darling little heart.  I headed to her house when I got off work last night where we enjoyed dinner on the couch with her sweet mama.  Actually, her mama was in the recliner across from us which came in handy since Cousin Cate was pretending to show me Facebook pictures whilst actually typing short messages to me about A Boy Situation on the Word document pulled up on her screen.  I can’t be certain, but I think her mama was onto us.

It may have been the fact that we looked like a couple of 13 year old girls giggling behind a laptop screen.

After dinner, CC laid in bed whilst I laid in the floor and we — WAIT FOR IT — talked a little more about boys.  In our defense, however, we also talked about boys and a little about boys, too.  As I got ready to leave, CC asked if I had a picture for Daily Peek yet, offering her ankle up in my time of need.  After a moment of discussion we decided that this was video-worthy and thus, WE RETURN TO THE SMALL SCREEN IN FRONT OF YOU.

Things I would like to note about this video:

1. Less the five seconds into it, I’m laughing so hard I can’t even give it a proper intro.

2. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise.”  “Um, that was a laugh.”

3. Yes, I asked CC to crawl for you.  Listen, I know what y’all like.

4. And yes, that was CC snorting right after she assumed the crawling position.

5. I really wasn’t laughing at her.

6. Okay, I was actually laughing at her but?  Hello?  SHE WAS BUNNY HOPPING.

Enjoy.

My favorite little downtown restaurant has the best lemonade I’ve ever tasted. If that wasn’t reason enough to go as often as possible, you also get to pick out what color of straw you want. I always choose pink except for this one time when I went a little wild and picked out a green straw.

Don’t worry. I came back to my senses not long after that and it’s been nothing but pink ones ever since.

Well, it’s finally time to tell you about my dream coming true! Last Friday evening, I picked my little MacKenzie up; for those of you who are new readers, MacKenzie is a little girl I met a couple of years ago who is being solely raised by her father. He’s doing an incredible job and, in an effort to help him, I spend some girl time with her whenever possible. Miss MacKenzie just LOVES girl time and I think we all know that I’m not one to pass up any form of girl time. MacKenzie had no idea what we were doing during our couple of days together, so that made all of the surprises even better!

We began on Saturday morning with a trip to Sonic for slushies and then off to the spa for a “princess pedicure.” As you’ll see here, MacKenzie not only has her American Girl doll (better known as Julie) with us, but she’s also reading her American Girl doll magazine. She’s obsessed with all things American Girl.

Julie, of course, needed a pedicure of her own. Listen, we girls have needs, you know.

After her pedi was done, MacKenzie and I headed off on a 2.5 hour car trip. She woke up in Atlanta and was still clutching Julie in one arm with her American Girl magazines in the other arm when we pulled up at our surprise destination:

Y’all. I don’t even know where to begin to describe her reaction. She knew that AG had a store in America, but thought it was only in Chicago (the flagship location). She had asked me if I’d take her there months ago, but I explained that Chicago was just too far away for us. I then began research and discovered that, lo and behold, a new store had opened in the ATL!

We were just in time for our dinner reservations at the Bistro, so we hurried in and were seated at an adorable table. Also seated with us were Julie (with the braid) and Elizabeth, her other AG doll. I would just like to take a moment and share with y’all that I played with baby dolls until I was far too old to be doing such a thing but this? Baby dolls in high chairs at our table? I WAS IN HEAVEN.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one having a good time.

After we finished dinner, we headed into the store to look around. While I didn’t buy anything for myself, I was rather tempted by a book I found in the corner of the store:

Also, I would like for you to look at how beautiful this doll’s hair is, for crying out loud. If you come over to my house to spend the night, don’t be surprised if you find this picture taped to my bathroom mirror as hairspiration.

We spent quite a long time in the store, viewing each and every item (and I mean every item). In the end we selected a pink high chair so we could create the “dining with your dolls” magic at home. We then took Julie on her first carousel ride; you can barely see it in this picture, but if you’ll look back at the Bistro table picture, you’ll realize that Miss MacKenzie and her doll are wearing matching dresses!

Also: MacKenzie wanted me to ride the carousel with her but adults aren’t allowed; the ride operator, however, suggested I just stand beside her. This seemed like an excellent idea until the ride actually began and I nearly found myself revisiting my Beyoncé-regurgitation days right there in the mall.

As we got back into the car, MacKenzie naturally assumed that we were headed home so you can imagine her surprise when I pulled the car up to a local hotel! My girl takes after her Amy Beth and just loves hotels. But really, I’m sure you can’t tell from the following picture of her running into the hotel as fast as possible:

This is where the day gets really special. In my research I found a hotel that offers an American Girl Doll package!!! Not only do the girls (and their dolls!) have a special check-in line, they also get a really cute lollipop, a pink “credit card” (you’ll see it used in just a minute), a personalized welcome letter from the hotel manager that mentions her dolls by name, etc. The guy who checked us in was just incredible — I nearly cried watching how sweet he was to not only MacKenzie but also to her dolls, speaking to them as if they were actual people.

One of the most impressive parts of the package happened when we got a knock at our door right before bed and opened the door to find Room Service there with fresh cookies and milk for not only us BUT THE DOLLS, TOO. I almost started crying again just listening to MacKenzie talk about how she had always wanted room service to deliver something to her (I told you the girl likes hotels).

OH, AND GET THIS (can you tell I’m a wee bit excited just reliving the memories?). When we got to our room, there was AN AMERICAN GIRL DOLL BED, BLANKET AND PILLOW waiting for us. If that wasn’t enough, YOU GET TO TAKE IT HOME WITH YOU.

I awoke the next morning at an ungodly hour with “Do you want to go swimming?” being whispered into my ears. Luckily for Little One, I love to swim at any hour of the day or night so off we went. After a couple of hours of practicing underwater somersaults and headstands, we headed back to the room to get ready for breakfast in the hotel restaurant (again, a perk included in our package).

The hotel really goes all out including having an American Girl doll table set-up for our arrival! MacKenzie couldn’t get over the fact that her chocolate milk was being served in a “globlet” and that I let her have “whippeded cream” on her fruit.

The breakfast chef took a liking to us and we soon found ourselves with a very special treat:

I am not above telling you that, after I saw MacKenzie’s pancake, I asked if I too could have pancakes. He asked how many I wanted and I looked him dead in the eye and said “Just one bear-shaped one, please.” I think he thought I was joking, but HELLO, I DO NOT JOKE AROUND ABOUT CUTE PANCAKES.

While we were eating breakfast, MacKenzie put a little sugar on her bowl of strawberries and then pretended to feed them to Julie. After the doll silently consumed two strawberries, MacKenzie announced that Julie would soon be “bouncing off the walls ’cause she’s had too much sugar!” I do believe, however, that it was MacKenzie who had a little too much sugar seeing as she took it upon herself to leave me sitting at the table while she took Julie around to see various people in the restaurant. The highlights of Julie’s tour of duty included assisting the chef in preparing an omelet as well as being placed in the arms of a random elderly woman at the table in front of us. MacKenzie actually left Julie in the woman’s arms before returning to the table to explain to me that “Julie really wanted to spend some time wif those people.” That sweet woman, bless her heart, just sat there rocking Julie back and forth until MacKenzie decided she was ready to reclaim her baby and return to the trials of motherhood.

After breakfast we headed to the hotel shop where MacKenzie got to use her pink “credit card” to select a free candy bar which was one of her happiest moments of the entire trip. Please note that Julie is having an awful hair day by this point, but if you had been making omelets and keeping random women company in the hotel restaurant, you’d probably be a little frazzled yourself.

When I told you awhile back that I was going to get to fulfill one of my life dreams, a few close friends who read the blog asked me what I was going to do and then laughed when I explained where I was taking MacKenzie. I get that — I mean, after all, what 24 year old girl calls going on an American Girl doll adventure one of her “life dreams?”

It’s just that I wasn’t talking about American Girl dolls when I said I would be fulfilling one of my dreams this past weekend.

You see, my dream was to be a part of making someone else’s dream come true.

Nearly 15 years ago I met a girl named Ashley; we became best friends, mainly because we liked to fix the other one’s hair over and over again. I woke up from my spot on her couch this Easter morning to the sounds of her daughter Gracie laughing.  While mama and daddy got dressed, Gracie and and her “Amy Belle” played with the little horse I brought her mama to celebrate the new baby that will arrive in seven months.

It’s amazing how quickly you can go from playing baby dolls to having babies.

There’s a popular phrase heard on Good Friday, the day when we remember Jesus’ death on a cross –

“It may be Friday, but Sunday’s coming.”

We say it because, in the midst of remembering the agonizing pain our Savior felt, we want to remember that, if we can just hold out a bit longer, death will be defeated.

We want to remember that victory comes after pain.

– — –

I wonder what the people gathered around His tomb were saying on Saturday as they watched a stone that simply wouldn’t move. I wonder if Saturday was somehow harder than Friday — in the same way that some of us don’t realize the depth of our pain until after it has been inflicted, in the same way we find it harder to wake up in the morning realizing that we didn’t dream that awful moment, that it really did happen.

I wonder what they felt like when they woke up to find out it wasn’t just a bad dream, that He was truly dead.

– — –

They had been told that, in three days, He would come back. I’m sure some believed it, waiting anxiously for the three day mark, the moment He would come back to them.

But I wonder if, maybe at the back of the crowd, sitting underneath the shade of a tree, there was a girl who sat watching that tomb, doubt creeping in her heart as she whispered –

“What if He doesn’t do what He said He would?”

– — –

Hope has never really been a problem for me. I’ve had a relatively short life, but even during the midst of trials perhaps uncommonly hard for someone so young, I’ve held out for hope, taking Him at His word. I’ve truly believed that He could do anything, that He could change any situation.

Until a few months ago when, for the first time in my life, I gave up.

– — –

It’s a relationship I’ve cried about for over a decade, nearly half of my life. It’s a thousand seemingly unanswered prayers. It’s a fight for things to be better even though they’ve only become worse as my childhood slipped away and my adult years began.

I’ve held onto hope, clinging to it even when friends told me it was pointless. I’ve held onto hope even when others said that I should just give up on it. I’ve held onto hope even when I was sure there was nothing left to hold onto.

And I remember where I was the moment I literally lost hope that He could fix it, the night completely black except for my headlights as I drove along the interstate.

“You said You could do anything. But I don’t believe You.”

– — –

And I can’t help but think of that girl sitting under the tree, staring at a stone that wouldn’t budge.

And I can’t help but think of that girl, driving along the interstate, staring through eyes that wouldn’t cry.

Two girls, separated by some 2,000 years, whispering the same thing –

“You said You could do anything. But I don’t believe You.”

And it isn’t that they’re mad or angry or even sad.

They’re just afraid. Just two young girls, afraid He won’t do what He promised.

– — –

It may be Saturday.

But Sunday’s coming.

Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.

About a week ago I told you that I’d be getting to fulfill one of my life dreams today. I was purposely vague, but that didn’t stop y’all from throwing out some rather interesting guesses in the comments.

Seven of you believed my dancing around my bedroom in joy was due to the fact that I’d be spending some quality time with my favorite aquatic animal, Shamu.  While that would fulfill one of my life dreams, it’s my duty to tell you that I’m not on my way to Shamu Stadium today.

Four of you guessed that I was getting to meet Beth Moore.  That was also a good guess — if I was going to meet her today, I would have definitely danced around my bedroom; however, if Bethie was also going to give me in-person tips on how to make my hair as high as hers, I would have actually danced in my street, obvs.  Good guess, but it wasn’t even close.

The prize for the most creative guess goes to Melody who suggested that I’m spending my day as a bridesmaid at a Shamu wedding, with Cracker Barrel Trey as my date with the reception (complete with a few words from Beth Moore) being held at Dollywood.

CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE?!?

I thought about keeping it a secret from y’all until Monday, but really, how likely is that to actually happen from the girl who daydreams about the day she gets to tell you she’s A. engaged and B. pregnant.

(Preferably in that order with two or three years in between events, for the record.)

(And yes, I know it’s weird that I daydream about telling y’all that, but I can’t help it.)

(I also daydream about having you all come to my wedding so we could have a huge slumber party the night before, just for the record.  But we’ll cross that bridge when we reach it in 37 years.)

Ahem.  Back to one of my dreams coming true.

Well, it’s happening.  Today.  And tonight.  And a little bit on Saturday morning, too.

And as much as I just want to type it out right this very second, it probably wouldn’t be the wisest thing to write exactly where I’ll be with a wee MacKenzie (OH YES, LLAMA MAMA IS IN ACTION AGAIN!), especially since it’s a public place in a large, public city.  Safety first, after all — but you better believe I’ll be back to tell you all about it just as we’re done with The Big Event!!!

Oh, and get this –

One of my college girls, Honour, went with me to pick MacKenzie up last night and, on our long car ride back to my house, MacKenzie began playing with Piggy, her little stuffed pig (SHOCKER, I KNOW) that goes everywhere with her.  In her best Piggy voice, she informed Honour that Piggy would like to be Honour’s boyfriend.

“What about Amy Beth?” Honour asked, not wanting me to be left out on the dating scene.

Long pause and then –

“Piggy just wants to be friends with Amy Beth.”