One Day at a Time

I open my eyes, and I immediately realise that nothing has changed overnight. There is still a huge ache in my chest, and one all-consuming thought in my mind: Thomas. Although it is still very early- the sun has hardly risen – I know I have to get up. If I stay in bed, I will start to think about my baby. I will wonder if I will survive Thomas’ death and the tears will again begin to flow. I don’t want to start the day in a melancholy mood without hope, so I swing my legs over the side of the bed and get moving.I shower and dress and eat breakfast automatically, and soon I find myself standing in the kitchen. A wave of grief sweeps through me, but I set my lips firmly together, and I banish all thoughts of my baby. Instead, I think about washing the dishes.But a voice says, “Give in. Cry!”

And the tears start to seep from my eyes.

“Who can be expected to shoulder this burden? It’s too much. No one cares that you’re hurting so much. Give in. It will never get any better.”

The tears are flowing freely now, and I sob. I want to sink to the floor, allowing my misery to overcome me. I want to cry, “It’s all too difficult. I’ve had enough.” I want to despair.

But I don’t.

I start to say, “Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in the battle. Be our protection against the malice and the snares of the devil…”

I put one foot in front of the other and keep going, and somehow I make it through this difficult moment. I call upon St Michael the Archangel many times, and I keep moving through the day until it finally ends.

As I climb into bed, I think about the next day and the next and the next. How long will I have to keep struggling through this dark grief-filled world? Will it really get any better?

And then I realise something. I have survived another day.

I hear a voice, “Don’t look ahead. Take one day at a time. That’s all you have to do. You’re doing well.”

And I reply, “Jesus, I trust in you.”