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     I think that my heart is broken. It's impossible to know for sure, because I'm finding it hard to feel anything at all. There is probably worry lodged in my aortic crevices somewhere. And fear. Definitely sadness. Presumably anger. But when you can't actually feel, you can only guess what's truly happening inside based on the clues your body gives. While watching t.v., I notice that my face is wet and that my eye make-up has smeared. Apparently I'm able to cry without making a sound or feeling a thing. While driving to the store, I succumb to the sudden urge to scream at the top of my lungs. The urge passes as quickly as it came, leaving me very, very tired. My already short nails are red-lined and scraggly. Smiling seems.... well, what's the point? All my clues point towards a broken heart.
     Part of me doesn't want to write any of this at all. A very large part of me, actually. Right now, words are not my friends and I hate the thought of verbalizing things that are so painful. In fact, I would rather write about anything else on the planet.... anything at all. Except there is nothing else in me to write.  I can't make it funny and I can't make it happy. My words would fall flat if I tried. And, whereas I would bet that some are tired of my never-ending parenting saga, it is all that I have. My heart hurts and I have to write it. I have to.
     For no reason other than he can, Isaac's biological dad decided that our weekend arrangement is too much. He decided that we will now have bi-weekly visits with our little man. Logic, reason, and understanding have yet to change this outcome. I just don't even know what to say.
     Friends, how will my heart stand this?? How will I face Saturday mornings without seeing my beaming two-year-old scramble through my front door and into my arms? I just don't know how to do this.... how to do life without getting those coveted 36 hours each week. I still cry when he goes back each Sunday as it is! I still ache when I look back at pictures from our last full week with him in our custody. I crave that little boy day in and day out and now.... now, my happiness is once again being shaken by someone else. And we did absolutely nothing to deserve it. My husband, whose heart breaks even more for this baby than mine (a thought that is difficult to even imagine), does not deserve this. My children, who turn down plans with friends on the weekends in order to be with their little brother, do not deserve this. And most importantly, the little boy that we leave frantic, screaming, and clinging to us each Sunday night..... he doesn't deserve this.
     Whatever is going on behind the scenes, and whoever is involved in aiding this negative situation, we may never know. But we are the ones left in the wake of the storm, waiting for the next wave to hit... the final wave that will wash us out to sea, ending our visits for good.
     But in my numbness I still have to say this: it was my happiness that was shaken, not my hope. At every turn there has been plan in place, one that I cannot see and cannot predict. Each time a wave hits, we choke and we flounder and we cry (oh, do we ever cry), but we do not drown. We WILL not drown. I will scream it if I have to, but WE WILL NOT DROWN! I have no aces up my sleeve nor magic ball to turn to. But I do have a hope in a God that has brought me through so so very much. And He has never left me to die. He has allowed pain and more crap than I thought I could handle, but He always saves the day. That's why He's the Savior and I'm not.
     Tonight I am going to try to feel. I am going to go through those stages of grief for the hundredth time, praying that it will be the last but knowing that the answer to that prayer won't change the fact that I have to do it anyway. I am going to lift up all of my children before the Lord, even when remembering Isaac causes me more pain than I can express. And I am going to try to love on my other three as we prepare them for the news. Finally, I am going to remind myself that Isaac's dad is not the enemy, nor are any of the others involved. That one's really hard for me to remember sometimes.
     For those of you that still can stomach all my parenting drama and continue to read these posts of mine, I ask again that you pray for my babies (and the big one I'm married to, as well). Please pray for their hearts to not hurt quite so much tonight. And please pray for Isaac and his dad. I know you may not want to, believe me I know... but when it's all said and done, only God can fix a heart. And what we need right now is a whole lot of hearts that are doing better than they currently are. Big hugs to you all.