My cousin Josh and his wife Beth Ann were expecting. She was six and a half months pregnant and had only just found out the sex of her baby. Yesterday, the baby died and she had to go to the hospital to await, overnight, being induced to give birth to her stillborn child.
This is indeed the summer of fire for the people I love.
This is when twelve hours away is an impossible distance, when I cannot possibly just hop in my car to be there, when I stew in my own choice to go so far.
I ask everyone to say a prayer, light a candle, send whatever compassionate vibes you feel you can their way. This is heartbreak, this is hurt. This is the epitome of the phrase But it's not fair. Because it isn't, and I don't know how to reconcile good news and bad so well.
Which brings up to the reason this post is titled 'whiplash'.
Jason got a call today to go fill out some stuff with a temp agency, which means he's got employment for at least a couple of weeks and if he does really well, there's a chance this could turn into something longer. He's off filling out the paperwork now. This is so good for us; we need two incomes to really pull this off. The downside is that it's a third shift thing, which means we won't see each other (awake) quite so often as we'd like, and we're still a one car household, which means more attempts to balance who goes where when.
So far today has been somewhat of a crazy balance of being happy for our job situation looking up, or at least our financial situation looking decidedly up, and then thinking of Beth Ann and this horrible day.
What a terrible couple of days.
What a terrible few months for my family.
What a terrible distance.