I felt overwhelming grief and rage yesterday afternoon after catching a glimpse of an article on Gosnell. I purposefully stay away from crap like that, but it caught me off-guard. I was already feeling low, and thus sensitive, so when my eyes brushed that one sentence, the floodgates opened.
I went into our bedroom and grabbed Bun Bun -- Scarlett's stuffed pink bunny -- and just sobbed and sobbed. I wanted to punch a wall, throw something through a window, DESTROY something. Anger doesn't even begin to describe what I was feeling, knowing how long it took to have her, then having her taken from me after only 19 months with her, and God blesses people with babies and those people kill them. Kill them. Do you know what I would do to get my child back? Do you know the lengths I would go for just one more minute with her? And God blesses murderers with babies.
It's unfair. And I know life isn't fair. I know God never promised that. But sometimes the world just feels backward.
It's times like that when the anger takes hold.
I honestly thought about taking a hammer to Scarlett's crib. Then I thought about taking it apart and throwing the pieces off our second-story deck onto the concrete patio below just to hear the wood splinter and crack. Blinded by tears, I managed to find a screwdriver, and I went into that closed-up room -- the room that still smells like fresh paint and baby shampoo -- and I dismantled the crib. I cried as each screw came out. I ached at the teething marks on the front top edge. I cringed as I pulled the mattress out -- the place she died -- and leaned it up against the wall. But with each piece taken off came a little more calm. And by the last screw, I wasn't crying anymore.
I leaned all the pieces up against the wall. I don't know what to do with it. I can't bear the thought of giving it away, or throwing it away. But I can't bear the thought of ever using it again either. So I suppose it will stay in pieces in storage until the time finally comes when it's clear what to do with it.
Yesterday was one of those days when my gratitude journal didn't cut it. The rage needed to be released. I'm glad those days are few and far between.