Saturday, a young girl was brought to me in labor. Her story is hard to share. I want to write about it. In fact, I desperately want it out, but I can’t.
Each word sticks in my throat, choking back bile, grief, and shame. They fester in my stomach, making me sick. Oh, to vomit them up in readable paragraphs! What relief it would bring!
But I can’t seem to manage.
Telling her story makes it truer, somehow. I don’t want it to be true. I want to forget. So, I push my thoughts down with my words, only to gag that much more.
Choking on grief, what a nasty way to live.
Hopefully.... hopefully, I’ll be able to write her story down soon. I don’t know how long it will take me.
She lived. Her baby died.
He was such a beautiful baby... sigh. More bile. Gulp.
Her name is Awende.
Pray as the Lord leads.