Broken Hallelujah

I wept. I ached. I couldn't move. I am confused. I am afraid. So I forced myself up and I went to church. God's church of nature.

I went to clear my head. To allow the sun to kiss my forehead. To listen to the cold waves break against the black rocks; begging them to sway me back and forth into comforting sleep.

I'm not pregnant.

Again. After so many signs. After so many prayers. How. How do I prepare myself to go through this...AGAIN.

I was so sure this time. I could feel it in the way that I couldn't keep down my favorite foods and in the way certain smells would turn my stomach. I knew it in the way that I cried at everything and just wanted to nap all the time. I was so sure, but I didn't dare say it out loud.  To do so is not faith, it's foolish.

The fourteen-day wait isn't easy. Nineteen days have been even harder. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to pray.

I know that God knows my tears. My tears of joy and my tears of pain. He put me here. Here in this moment. And seven long months ago, he placed Nugget in my unprepared soul and blessed me with the chance of a lifetime. The hope to finally be a mother to a child of my own.

As I pull out my calendar I see months full of notes and numbers about cycle days and doctor appointments and travel. Where do I go from here? I know God has a plan. That my purpose will rise beautiful from the ashes.

And then I hear it. A song in my ear written just for me. It's lyrics washing over me like the lake over the shore. I fell back. Back into the beanbag on which I had been sitting. It wrapped around me in a close hug, let me curl up in a ball and cry until I had nothing left.

"When all is taken away, don't let my heart be changed....When I feel afraid, don't let my hope be erased. Let me always sing Hallelujah."

And so I go. I go again after so much pain. Again. And after. Hallelujah.