I lost a baby at 4 months, and then several other miscarriages happened. I didn’t think I was ever going to have a child. I went through surgery so that I could have one last chance to get pregnant, and I did. The pregnancy was normal and I carried full term, only to realize three days before she was delivered – she was gone.

She was stillborn on February 28th, 1976 I delivered an 8 lb baby girl, blue eyed, blonde -  Wendy Renee. I thought my life was at an end. Yet, God’s word keep coming to mind that he would “lift me on the wings of an eagle” until I could walk again. And he did.

By what the doctors called a miracle I again conceived and delivered twins. This pregnancy was a nightmare of wondering if I was going to have no baby, one baby or two babies. I had no idea if they would live or not. In 1977 NICU was increasing in their knowledge to help small babies, as they were born 7 weeks premature. They made it. Not without problems, Jen had total heart failure at 13 days old, at 18 months Jeremy had meningitis and Jen had another problem – but God healed them each time.

After delivering Wendy and going through 9 months of recovering and then becoming pregnant again the whirlwind of not knowing was a great deal of trauma for me.

My babies are now 34 years old. God got me through it. I am praying he will get me through this next part of my story; I am sure he will – HE NEVER FAILS. He promised to carry us at our weakest time and be by us through all things. As with Wendy, all I have to do is reach up and he will be reaching down to me.

Right now – it doesn’t seem that way.

I am usually the strong one in a crisis, I am usually able to get over it, get up and go on. Not this time. I don’t know how to make myself better.

In 2010 I went through two horrible family deaths; I was able to stay on top of it, help others get through it and be the “strong” one. However, after dad died I fell deep and I can’t get back on top.

I used to scrapbook, sew, go for walks, do photo-walk’s with a group of friends or just go take photo’s myself. I was on the computer a lot, now I hardly get on it except at work. I don’t want to do anything. My blogging days have long since passed. No one wants to hear about problems and sadness.

I am depressed, but on anti-depressants. I think maybe I need to get off the anti-depressants but then I think – what would I be like without them?

My sister’s death was horrible, unexpected and tragic. I was with her at the hospital soon after her accident. I helped her understand what had happened and let her make the decision to not do anything to preserve her life as it was going to be.

No one wants to live paralyzed, on a respirator the rest of her life. Women take care of their families, are active in church, go places with friends; not let them take care of them. Instead she decided to not live. She chose to have everything removed from her. We stayed with her until the end.

My father gave up that day, in fact, he collapsed when he walked into her room and seen her on the bed. He was already sick but after losing my sister he went downhill very fast. Mom and I took care of him and sat with him during his 15 hospice days at home and were there when he passed.

These were within seven months of each other in 2010. Now we are starting 2012 and I want my life back. Yet, I don’t know how.

I know they say grief takes time – but how long? Isn’t a year long enough?

I just pulled up an article about grieving and it said asking how long the grieving process will last is like ask how high is UP?

My body and my mind will know when it is time to come off this and let me start living again. I guess that makes sense. Grieving is a process that needs to be talked out – and when someone has lost not one but two of the most important people in your life, others don’t know what to say so they say nothing. Therefore, the grieving person is left alone with the process of trying to figure it out alone.

I have picked out a very bright star that I talk to, like I am talking to them. I am sure they can’t hear me, but I talk to them anyway. I tell Caroline how much I loved her and hated that we were never able to live closer to each other. I tell dad how sorry I am that I had to give him medication at the end that he did not want.

Dad was a carpenter and for over a year I was unable to make even the simplest decisions of how I wanted to redecorate my kitchen. How to pick out tile, how to have granite lain. My mind had closed, confused and the thought of doing anything without asking him first was just unconceivable. Until finally one day I was able to say this is the granite I want, this is what the back splash will be and we got it done. I think he would like it.

Life goes on day by day, one hour at a time, eventually I will be okay. God is with me and helps me get through those days. He helps me talk to mom and listen to her. She has never lived by herself in her life and this has been extremely hard on her.

I try to help her with decisions she needs to make, and I push things on her that I don’t mean too. In my mind for her own good. Sometimes I become the parent and she is the child. Yet, she is not; she is still capable of making her own decisions. I have to stand back and let her travel this same journey I am on – she has to grieve too.

I see her house falling apart and know how much money it is going to take to fix it up. She sees the home she raised my sister and I in; that she and dad lived in for over 40 years.

 It is her home, not a building, not something that she is ready to give up yet. She is going through drawers, closets and downsizing a little at a time. Just like me. She has to do it in her time, at her own pace. When she is ready she will know it.

So for now, she and I will continue to heal, slowly. We will know when things are better and we will feel better. Until then I will rely on God to keep us both in his arms and help us get through it.