Today my heart has been off and feeling heavier than usual. 

I think it's due to the fact that Haven's due date is quickly approaching and the would've, should've-beens are consuming me now more than ever. I even allowed myself to fall a few days off track with this "Capture Your Grief" challenge and logged out of social media accounts because of all the weight and heaviness. 

I'd like to believe that I've been making lemonade out of this event and experience -- the life and death of my first and only little one. But then some days like today, hit me hard in the face and I just can't seem to stay afloat. The reality hits harder than other days -- strollers and little toddler daughters at the store with their mamas, diaper commercials, etc. -- just trigger me and immediately my emotions set off like wildfire. Some days like today, the hurt is too much, too real, and still at times unbelievable. Today, I sit in my sadness, pain, hurt, heartache, envy, anger and questioning a bit more than I have been in the last couple of weeks.

My daughter is gone. Forever. And there is nothing that can or will ever physically bring her back to me. It's the worst pain, feeling and experience to have to live with for the remainder of one's life and I wish for no other parent to ever have to go through this same journey. However, if you're reading this and you also are unfortunately, please say hello. I want to hear your story; let's cry together and let's also lift each other up and learn. 

My sister reminded me today to accept my own grief. To not hide it, to let it all out, but also to not let is consume me so much to the point that I forget God's purpose and promises He has set for me through and because of Haven's  life. 

I am human and sometimes I just won't feel like making lemonade. And that is okay. 

Some days, I'll want to wallow, sit still, do nothing, and cry all day. But I do know and believe that there is good from this. There is beauty in the pain. There is sunshine after the rain. There is healing. There is tomorrow. A new day, a new chance. There is light at the end of the darkness.

Today and for a whole lot more to come, I'll be with the lemons. But I mostly pray and look forward to, with joy and hope, the days that I'll be making lemonade.