Page 5 of Counting His heartbeats

"Love you too."

"I'll hit you up when I'm back, but in the meantime, I want you to find a way to push through this. Sitting with this energy isn't good, and I don't want it to depress or overwhelm you. So, find an outlet to deal with it healthily. Can you promise to do that for me?"

"I will," I whisper.

"Good. I'll be in touch. In the meantime, take care of yourself, Nae Boogie."

When silence penetrates the line, I pull the phone from my ear and confirm that Zion has hung up. The adrenaline I didn't have moments ago surges through me, causing me to stand before pacing and expressing what's now echoing in my mind.

"Well, God, I'm mad at you even if you aren't punishing me. Why would you allow me to get pregnant only to snatch my baby from me? What kind of God does that? What kind of God dangles the baby carrot only to rob me of the experience of giving birth? Growing up, the pastor told us you are a just and merciful God. I don't believe that because you robbed me of the chance to be a mother. The sovereign King I've heard about all my life can't be when He took my baby from me. I didn't get to?—"

Are you really yelling at God like this?

"Yes. I am. If I can cry while praying, then dang it, I can also yell when I'm unhappy about something," I recite in an elevating voice, continuing my path around the couch with heavy shoulders and tension filling my back.

Lo, I am with you even unto the ends of the world. I will never leave you, nor will I forsake you, Zurmani. My grace is sufficient for you.

"Nooo! Why didn't your grace allow me to keep my baby?" I cry, dropping to my knees when pain enters my stomach, causing me to release the sobs I've been fighting to contain. "Ahhh!"

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy... no matter how much it hurts, your joy will come in the morning. No good thing will I withhold from you.

At twenty-nine, nothing in my life has given me a reason to feel like God is displeased with me until now, while dealing with the aftermath of my terrible loss. I have also never experienced anything of this magnitude, and the pain in my chest has me gasping for air. My mind is at war with the still, small voice attempting to speak life into me due to the sorrow flowing like a stream within me.

"Oh God! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please. Please. Please," I cry.

The day I was told I was miscarrying, I was numb and unable to reconcile the event and everything that was happening around me at hyper speed. Today, I'm feeling everything I didn't back then, and it's clogging my brain, causing tremors in my body, and my heart feels like it's shattering into a million pieces.

I am the healer of the brokenhearted... joy will come in the morning.

My nose is running profusely, forcing me to muster the strength necessary to grab some tissues. With every step I take, the fatigue from a while ago returns, sending signals that I need to go to bed and sleep this off. At the bathroom entrance, a song pops into my head minutes later, causing me to push through the clog in my throat to sing along.

"Better days. Better days. Better days are coming."

"Talk to me,baby. I can't help if you don't say anything. I know I'm pretty and everything, but I'm sure you could be doing something other than hearing me breathe on this phone," Mama Lo says.

"Can you do me a favor that stays between us?"

My voice is low, raw, and raspy due to the lack of sleep I've had, the liquor I have consumed, and the emotion coursing through me. Time has gotten away from me, and I'm unsure what day it is.

"If that's what you need... of course it will. Before you proceed, can you confirm that you're okay? You haven't been at dinner, and your absence has been felt amongst the family."

A plea in Mama Lo's tone causes a pang in my chest, and my hand rubs circles over the left side, trying to soothe the ache.

"I'm trying to be," I whisper because it's the best I can do in this moment of weakness and instability.

"What's the favor, baby?" Mama Lo asks.

Closing my eyes, I fight over the clouds in my mind, attempting to keep me in this bubble of unfamiliar territory.

"How do you communicate with God? Do you think he speaks back to you when you do?"

"Prayer is my method of communicating with God. He doesn't always respond when I pray, and there are times when silence is the only thing I get from Him. Then, there are times when He speaks back. His voice sometimes is soft and still, but there have been times when His voice is loud and boisterous. It truly depends on what He needs to communicate to me."

My heart rate increases when Mama Lo mentions God can communicate in varying tones because of the incident with the unfamiliar voice speaking to me the other day.

"Thank you," I softly express, unable to form or speak anything other than those two words.

So much is happening in my mind that I feel like I'm in the eye of a tornado, fighting to keep from being swallowed up or destroyed once it dissipates.

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