Sacred Silence Novel ~ Journal Entry #1

BookSacredSilence

Journal Entry #1

August 20th, 2013

This morning I stood in front of the long mirror nestled in the corner of our bedroom, running my hands over my still swollen stomach; only today it was soft and frightfully uninhabited. My fingers wove themselves together, cradling the crook of my belly that once held my baby boy as he grew sweetly for more than five precious months.

I swallowed hard at the reality that had hit me square in the face five days ago at this very hour. I glanced at the clock. 4:34pm; the time of Zachariah’s birth. That unforgettable afternoon that will remain forever embedded in the wreckage of my shattered memories for the rest of my life. My frame was disheveled, my hair a complete mess, and my face swollen from continued bouts of crying when the thoughts of my indescribable loss arose.

Miles had immersed himself back at work today, the words between the two of sparse. Perhaps neither of us knew what to say anymore, how to cope together, leaving each of us to mourn Zachariah on our own.

Work was waiting for me, but I wasn’t sure I could ever return. Not for a good long while. I knew it would be excruciatingly hard to keep my frazzled emotions in tact with the sea of people I saw on a daily basis, but it was also the place where the loss of my little boy had begun. The thought had crossed my mind more than once that perhaps returning to Dr. Parson’s office was completely out of the question. I wasn’t sure I could ever step foot into the one place I knew hurt lurked; where it had swallowed me whole and stolen my very livelihood away.

It wasn’t healthy to try and cope alone, but whenever I felt the urge to run to my husband’s arms, hurting and compassionately broken, I stopped dead in my tracks each and every time. Somehow I knew I wouldn’t find the remedy in his arms; not for now at least. Such a thought was unnaturally wrong. He was my husband, for God’s sake. Yet, I can’t bring myself to confront him. Not now. Maybe never. The truth tears at my heart. So I weep, alone. The image of my baby boy on my mind every waking moment. And it hurts. Oh how it hurts.

.. Alana

Copyright 2013

Written and owned by Valerie King at http://www.valeriekingbooks.com

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