What an emotional roller coaster I have been on. We got the call Monday that Corbyn's cremation was complete and we could come pick up her ashes by Friday. I had been putting it off not sure I was ready to cross that bridge. Somehow that seemed the finality I was not quite ready for just yet. It was my 29th birthday yesterday. I usually love my birthday but yesterday I was in no mood to celebrate. We dropped the kids off with my friend Michelle while we drove to the funeral home. It was not in the best area of town and as we walked the parking lot I kept thinking over and over "Are we really here at a funeral home to pick up Corbyn's ashes? How did we get here to this place?" We walked into the dreaded parlor and immediately went back to the 1970s. It smelled like an ash tray and there were cats EVERYWHERE! It felt discusting the minute we walked in. A man met us and said "Ah yes, let me take you to where we keep the babies" He explained that bc they are so small the amount of ashes is very little. He looked over a table full of boxes saying "Couch Baby?" The table had 16 tiny boxes on it, no bigger than a watch box. 16 other tiny little angels and 16 other parents mourning and grieving the loss of a life that never got to be. They handed me the paper work to sign the certificate of cremation it read "CAROLINE ELIZABETH COUCH" I told the lady thru my sobs that her name was Corbyn, she took it back and began new paper work. The guy from the front broke out a box of tiny and Gody looking urns. He gave us a very rehearsed schmel about giving our child the respect she deserves with a nicer urn, that the hospital doesn't like them to push retail on us but we have the right to be educated that there are better options. I felt like he was one of those slimy sales men you see on the streets that open their trench coat to a bunch of fake watches. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. We left broken and defeated with our tiny jar of our beautiful daughter. It made me sick to even think of her being in that place. As he walked us to the door he said "Yeah, right after you leave we are burying a 10 month old, the little ones are always the hardest!" With his shit eating grin on his face I wanted to ask him if that was supposed to make us feel better, but I couldn't get to the car fast enough. That set the tone for the rest of the day. I felt like I was loosing her all over again and decided a tattoo of her footprints and name would be a great outward reminder that she is always with me. I was a little naive about tattoos and left there feeling defeated again. We went to the gym, we have been spending quite a bit of time there lately. Something about punching the bag til our strength is exhausted seems to be helping us. I think I have said more obscenities in the last 2 weeks than I have my whole life. The F word has found its way into my vocabulary a little more than I would like. Somehow screaming it while punching something has helped release emotion that has needed to surface. Its certainly not the good little Christian girl outlet I would have chosen but you have to find what works right?! I was in the worst of moods and Phil had made plans with our dear friends Scott and Christa. I was ready to cancel the night and get in bed to forget the day ever happened. But I figured that wouldn't make it any better so we went. I am so thankful I did. God always gives us what we need. I was venting to them how distant I felt God was. How could he forsake me? Take me into this storm and leave me? I am holding on for dear life to his promises bc its my only hope of getting out of this whole on the other side. They encouraged me that that is what faith is for, to believe even when we cant see and that God never leaves us, we  turn from him. She spoke truth to a place I couldn't see. That when you get to this phase of grief you isolate and feel alone even though he is there. That God can handle all my F word rants and begs to be let into that place of my heart. All things I know in my head, but my heart needed reminded. We went bowling and laughed harder than I had in the longest time and it felt so relieving. I am so thankful to have friends and family who love me enough to speak truth. I know there is nothing you can say to someone going thru this sort of thing, nor do I expect anything profound. I just need people to love me thrubc they couldn't get on my schedule for weeks. God kept it at bay, even when one of my clients cried for me- I held it together which is pretty remarkable since I can hardly contain the tears most of the time. God showed up, he gave relief when I needed it most. I am so thankful for it. Thankful to feel him still near. I knew he was I just couldn't feel it. All the anger and sadness is still there as well. But for now that feels ok too.