A Civillians Perspective in Afghanistan - Part 4

MY ARRIVAL IN “HOST NATION”:

I can remember saying to myself and even to a couple of girls that were with me after stepping off the plane in “Host Nation” as we call it so the location is kept private and classified, "what the &^%$ am I doing here, why did I do this, and what the hell am I thinking", I think I said this many time in my six months. I was scared; nervous to even recite the speech that had been prepared for us for the passport control officer at the airport as to why I was there. I was scared I was going to screw it up. I couldn't have been more terrified of anything in my life then I was at that moment. Stepping into the terminal at “HN” was a sudden shock of reality that we had stepped into a whole other world.

Just thinking of all that was to come, all the possibilities, and surely what the next six months was to bring was beginning to become too overwhelming.

The two days in the "host nation", were just the beginning of our adventures, but it sure was some beginning. Walking down the main street already brought very obvious cultural differences when a man, who shall remain classified stopped me dead centre on the sidewalk and looked me up and down for what felt like forever. I was wearing what I deemed appropriate, my skin for the most part was covered, yet I was still dressed for the hot and humid weather that our host city employs. I wore short sleeves, capri pants, you know the pants that go to your knees, and flip flops, apparently not enough. I guess I was lucky when later a bird decided to leave his dinner on my pants, yes he flew by and pooped on me; apparently this in Newfoundland means that I will be lucky. I wonder for how long, and when does the luck run out?

I was finally seeing things from a different perspective then a typical Canadian. I was seeing a different part of the world that some people could only wish to see, and different parts that I didn’t care to see. I could now begin to relate to some of things that my husband spoke of so often after returning home. It was very different then what I was use to. Downtown was a big market, every street corner there was something different to see and buy, spices, jewellery and gold, blankets, trinkets, cookware. Can anyone say Prada, Gucci, Versace, Dolce and Gabbana, every corner you went to someone was trying to make a deal with you, calling you “my friend”, asking where you were from? Aside from the peddlers, the country in itself was quite interesting and even beautiful in a different way. The architecture was stunning and I got some great shots on the buildings, and downtown core. Aside from downtown, which like the rest of the country employs people from other nations trying to make a quick buck, the rest of the city was booming in infrastructure, creating new housing, tourist developments, and theme parks which were going up all over the place. When at the end of my six months I went back it was unrecognizable. It looked more like Canadian Mississauga then where we actually were.

Mirage itself was good for the first day. We signed in, got all our PPE and equipment that we’d need for the next six months. Our downtown experience was fun, we had our own personal tour guide and met a few new faces, ones I won’t remember next time we go through, and ones that probably won’t be there, but still an experience.

The food in Mirage was amazing. We were told in training that Mirage eats well, and did they ever. Fresh fruits of every kind, and not just typical oranges and apples and pears, every tropical fruit you can imagine; mangos, star fruit, and fruits I don’t even know the names of. They had Baskin Robbins ice cream, and the yogurt there, now there was something special about the yogurt, it was like none I had ever tasted before.

Mirage was only a one night stay on the way the first time, in total I stayed there four days. The camp itself was small, aside from their five star gym, and a basketball court there was nothing to do. There was nowhere to go if you needed to be alone, than again after six months in the sandbox, there weren’t many options there either. Everywhere you went someone knew you. You housed with 1-3 other ladies, so taking solace in the comfort of your room was out of the question, at least in KAF your space in the tent was yours, the blankets that hung around gave what little solace there was. Leaving the camp in CM was out of the question as there were strict curfews, and buses ran on a tight schedule throughout the day, in KAF you could take the KAF tour bus, but that went nowhere besides around the camp constantly.

Cairo, Egypt

It is the 15th of February, late in the morning, we’re on our second day in Egypt, just come back from a satisfying breakfast, Ron has got his feet up Egyptian style letting his food digest, the kids are watching ENGLISH TV, and here I am, trying to get my creative juices flowing. If only the balcony was a little warmer, I would be in heaven, but alas tomorrow we will be leaving for another short flight to Sharm El Sheikh, I’ll be sitting poolside only seconds from the Dead Sea, laptop in hand and will let my fingers do the talking for me.

We arrived in Cairo on Friday on a very uneventful and one of the best plane rides I have taken, I can almost say there was no turbulence, just a couple small bumps, the food was...well airplane food, but all in all not terrible, when we arrived, happily so did all our luggage and without waiting an hour for it, the drive to the hotel was uneventful and we settled in well, but wait a minute. Did we just break all the stereotypes of bad luck and Friday the 13th? Yes that’s right, we were travelling on the most unlucky day of the year, and yet somehow it seems as if everything was going right, and not just right, but near perfect. That is until we got the kids in the room and then all hell broke loose. Was it a full moon? Overtired, hungry, and excited makes for a very bad combination. All I wanted to do was sleep, and they wanted to do was explore the hotel room ...make that apartment we were staying at; it certainly did make up for the broom closet we stayed at in Rome. It was nearing on midnight, and food was on the agenda. After waiting a good 45 minutes for 4 sandwiches with 4 fries we learned that even in a busy tourist area, there is no pork, a club sandwich here consists of roast beef, chicken and egg, an interesting but still good combination. Nearly 1:00am, it was time for bed, up early for a very busy day exploring with our tour guide. We all let our dreams flee to Mr. Sandman in no time.

Our first full day in Egypt was just that FULL. It started with breakfast at 7:30 am after a shower, the museum where you learn to appreciate how intelligent, gifted, and artistic the Egyptians were, and a tour that could have lasted two days to view all the pieces that were adorned, a stop at the Papyrus museum to pick up some pictures, it was finally time to stop for lunch. On the menu was what I was meant to be eating, what I had come to Egypt for. Digging deep into my Lebanese roots were traditional appetizers from both Lebanon and Egypt, my meal, fresh fish from the Nile. All you could eat, and all natural foods. Oh and did I mention the view of the pyramids we had right outside our window. After our lunch break, it was time to get back on the road again, two minutes down the road we arrived at the main reason for our trip in the first place, and one of Ron’s dream. There are 119 pyramids in Egypt, all located along the Nile River and our journey had started with the biggest of them all, a wonder that even I was astonished with, as one could not even fathom the size, it was bigger and stood taller than one could ever imagine. Egypt was not one of my dreams, seeing the pyramids was not something I had wanted to do in my lifetime, but not doing so would be something I would have missed out on. Not as it was many years ago, the roads leading up to another stack of this worlds large wonders was paved, we hopped in our tour guides van and off we went to discover what the inside of what one of these marvels look liked. The climb down was steep, dark, and you could only imagine how one could work let alone build such a stucture.

I wanted the kids to experience everything they could while in this vast dessert land, including riding a camel with the pyramids in the background, little did I know that Ron was negotiating for all of us, myself included to hop onto one of these creatures who didn’t seem the most friendly. So $100, 4 people, 3 camels, pyramids in the background, a half hour later and with much screaming and pleading from me; I swear I thought the camel was going to drop me and Anthony on our ass; we had our own PRICELESS moment.

I almost wish I could say our day was finished at this point, but it still included a trip to the Egyptian cotton store, where I managed to persuade Ron that Wal-Mart brand really was good enough, a trip to the Sphinx, and a long drive to the market, or Souk, much like the one I attended while in Dubai. A half hour there though was not nearly enough, and I’m walking away from Cairo with nothing but a small set of perfume bottles, that I’m not really sure why I bought other than; they’re pretty. It is not until the next day that I am informed that there is an even better market at the resort that we’ll be staying at.

So sometimes plans just don’t go as planned as was the case our second day in Cairo. Our plan was to wake up, eat breakfast and go for a walk along the Nile, find somewhere to eat lunch, finish our day at the pool once it warmed up, and head to the Hard Rock for dinner. We made it about as far as just down the street from our hotel, barely along the Nile walk path when our adventurous plans for the day were foiled. Now I’ll try and be as diplomatic as possible, which is really hard for me to do at this point as I’m beginning to see certain things through eyes of experience rather than being naive, as I usually am, someone who’s never been anywhere before.

We quickly realized again that we were tourists, out of place. Even in a tourist trap that houses the pyramids, we are still in a Muslim country where they don’t welcome women aren’t fully covered, regardless of how little you’re showing. Men and women both stare, mock, laugh, and even occasionally whistle when a “westerner”, or more specifically a “western woman” walks by in capri’s and a t-shirt. Fine, I don’t really care so much about it, they’re not use to it and have their own beliefs; although my feelings are that we all have our differences and beliefs and I’m accepting of differences in other people and their cultures. The old saying goes if we were all the same it would be a pretty boring world, although it seems as always there is always someone who thinks they are better than everyone else. As this has turned into a little rant I will turn it back to our foiled plans, our walk ended early not because of the rudeness (opps there I go again) and indifference to some, but rather because of a few hood rats who were so closely eyeing Robbie’s camera and kept following us. Every time we stopped, they stopped, until Ron finally gave them a clear look that we knew what they were up to and they moved on, unfortunately at this point our plans were ruined, Ron was irritated, and we headed back to our hotel where we took a early and very cold dip in the pool. We thought we could escape some of the culture at lunch in the hotel, as breakfast the last couple days had been quiet, I put on a skort, and we headed down to the hotel restaurant only to find it filled to capacity minus one table with ...well let’s say less than enthusiastic opinions of western culture. Our time in Egypt although a learning experience with arts and architecture was less than impressive or comfortable in any other way. If a visit to the pyramids for one is a must, than one day is all you need.

Cairo had nothing to offer, pretty at night as the mosques were lit and Nile adorned with lighted boats, but once the sun rose, and the smog lifted it was dirty and dreary, the only good things I could personally find was the natural and fresh foods and the fact that tourists were well taken care of in all the major attractions as there are tourist police upon all entries and all the hotels have police and security with dogs, all cars are sniffed before being allowed to go past the gate, and all people must walk through metal detectors before entering the hotel.
Alas we still have a full week at the resort, more to come on that later.

A Poem

Helpless, so far from home

I feel so alone, no one understands

Wondering, where did I go wrong?

I fell for lies, broken promises of a new chance

I’m too tired to start all over again

To tired to make it work

Fallen out of love so long ago

Tried to fool myself, but even I can’t lie anymore

I’m falling again, falling into empty space

That black hole once void is filling again

I can’t hold on, can’t get control

I’m falling deeper, falling harder

Slowly I fill my chest crushing beneath me

I can’t breathe, my heart beats faster

Tears fall, tears fall harder

How long till I hit the bottom again? Only time will tell

Will there be someone there to catch me or will I land alone?

Russia Update 2

Russia –An update, Part 2

As with all adventures, Russia has come with its good and bad. I have been in Moscow for five months now, just under six and a lot has happened.
Last I updated, it was just after Rome, Halloween, and Remembrance Day (or lack thereof). I can say that Russia was very easy to settle into. I quickly became friends with one of our neighbours and over Christmas I got to know one of our other Canadian families quite well, true colours starting showing quickly after “the new person”, myself had worn out her welcome, and I choose wisely who my friends are here.

I am slowly learning the language; the Cyrillic is almost down, although sometimes letters are seen differently and can throw me for a loop. I can count to 7 which is good for ordering the maximum 5 pieces of chicken I usually get, and the 7 articles of clothing I brought into the dressing room a couple weeks ago, and when we head to McDonalds I can order what I need in Russian, ok so it’s almost pretty much English with the exception of a few items, , but still without the English tourist sheet, and can relay “Savoy” (excuse if the spelling is improper), which is take out or to go.

I also know the Moscow METRO system like the back of my hand, but that in itself is another story.

I know that I am painting a rosey picture but my settling in hasn’t come without its struggles; I am instead choosing to focus on the positive points of my process. Believe me when I say that there are some days when I was fed up and wished I was back home with the harshness of some here, but just as quickly, the rare friendly smiles that come my way make it worthwhile and quickly change my mood.

In December we learned that we were pregnant, but a couple weeks later there were complications and just days before Christmas it was confirmed that we had lost the baby. Christmas in Moscow was quite busy, we had six parties to be present at, most of them were must attend, and it was with a heavy heart that we were present at each with a smile on our face. Grieving didn’t come till after the New Year.

Temperatures in Moscow still weren’t reaching under -12, snow still not amounting to much, it was funny to speak to friends and family who were back home cold and buried under snow banks. The kids had three weeks off for break, and we stayed home most of the time. We did enjoy some quality time sledding on the hill just feet from our house, and skating with our new skates in the compound, always followed by a warm fire back home and a cup of hot chocolate. The break also included another visit to Red Square to see the lights and the inside of the “onion” with friends.

The Russians really love to celebrate the New Year, the 31st of December was a huge spectacle with fireworks in the park right outside our back door, and everywhere else, they could be heard over the river just seconds from our house till as early as 4:00 in the morning. The kids played with colourful Russian sparklers and managed to stay up well past midnight.

February is a very busy month and it comes with a whole new chapter. Two days into the new month as a way to distract me and keep me busy, I missed having the kids with me and quite frankly staying home all day was just beginning to get boring and monotonous, the boundaries of the compound are seclusive, and confining.

I started a new job at the Embassy. My new job is long and complicated to list out what has to be done, but I can say that there is a lot of responsibility, it’s my show, and I don’t have to report to anyone daily as long as I’m getting things done, which I have. In my first couple weeks I have already made a lot of progress and am almost finished preparing and organizing the first part of my job.

I work four days a week; Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Fridays, I leave home after the boys have gone to school, getting into work around 09:15, and I’m home by the time the kids get home after their after school programs. Wednesdays I take off as it’s a late start, it’s a free day to do shopping, and spend time with the boys. Wednesdays in our house is either the school late start, or breakfast at the school cafeteria. After school I pick Anthony up and we go to the cafeteria to have a snack or a treat. The very little time we get to spend with each other outside of the house as getting around is still proving to be difficult as I haven’t started driving the busy Moscow streets.

Being super mom is exhausting as any working mom will know, I get up early to get ready, get the kids ready in the morning, going to work all day and coming home to deal with cleaning, cooking dinner, more cleaning, and homework. Only two weeks into my job I am on my first vacation from it, a much needed one as working again is proving to be stressful and tiring.

I miss things back home, things you can’t get here. I miss chicken noodle soup, Campbell’s, and Kraft cheese slices for a proper grilled cheese, and with summer fast approaching I have an order in with my mom for salted sunflower seeds. It is when we go out to eat that I miss NO SMOKING in restaurants. I miss going out and about whenever I want, and taking the kids places without worrying about a language barrier. At the same time though I am growing from the experience, my resume will have grown after my time here, and my cooking is growing as well.

As with all experiences I take everything in stride, and learn from it, awaiting the next opportunity to arise.

A Civillians Perspective in Afghanistan - Part 3

PRE-DEPLOYMENT PREPARATION:

Like all deployments with the military, mine also had a bit or rather a lot of Pre Deployment preparations and frustrations. I had four months after training to prepare for my deployment overseas, but even days before leaving the four months preparation was not enough. Some of those chosen from our selection course only had days to prepare for KAF after leaving Kingston, I couldn’t imagine being able to prepare myself in such a little amount of time.

I was fortunate to have the expertise of my husband to help me out with things that I would need. Little by little my paperwork started coming in, my uniforms arrived, and little by little I started to get things I would need for six months away from home, suitcases, clothes, shoes, and other accessories, my credit card was loving me, and I had nearly maxed it up, my credit limit had been raised twice over the course of my preparations, at this point I was glad I was not heading over for the money because I had a nice little bill to pay when I returned home. What I did not get, my husband made sure I had at Christmas, bungee cords, which I could see as useful though I never used, a headlamp, which was quite handy in the middle of the night for visits to the porta potty or for my midnight jogs around camp, and my most used and loved item, and MP3 player. Nothing fancy, just enough to put my favourite workout music on, and go. I put aside a small space for myself in the laundry room and put all my things there as I got them. As time drew nearer, I started packing things in the suitcases making sure I had everything I would need and could not live without for my arrival in “the host nation” and KAF in my carry on.

The stress on me and my husband was alike any other deployment we had been on together. By that time he had been on four deployments overseas and a couple other “deployments” in Canadian departures, and just like his deployments, we had the same frustrations and anxiety’s while preparing for mine, same difficulties, and same stresses that any soldier going on deployments has before going away. It started about a month before I left, and carried well into my tour. We were in quintessence preparing ourselves for the next six months without each other, employing our own bubble for what life would be like.

All deployment preparations aside, when I arrived, it was quickly observed that I had forgotten a few items, items that weren’t key to my survival, but all the same would give me a comfort that was much like splurging desert style. It was obvious that even with four months to prepare; one can never be prepared enough for such a trip.

A Civillians Perspective in Afghanistan - Part 2

PRE DEPLOYMENT:

MY FEARS:

PRIOR TO GOING: It’s rather funny, you would think that the prospect, well the reality now of going to a war torn country would put some kind of fear into me about war related things, things that we were taught in training, although slim chance of happening, there was still the possibility of happening; mines, hostage situations, and even the rockets which were a fairly regular occurrence.

I was worried of how people would perceive me being over there. Those that were back in Canada, and my future co workers in KAF, would they think of me as crazy for leaving my children behind to pursue somewhat of a selfish opportunity? It turned out I was not the only one in KAF who had young children, although I was one of very few. My co workers were from all walks in life, retired military, retired civil service, military wives, older, younger, students, and those that are just there for the money, which is a whole other issue.

My biggest fear in going though had nothing to do with Afghanistan at all. My greatest fear was that of my family at home. I was scared that my husband who had next to no clue about family life, how to raise the kids, doctors, and cooking especially (sorry honey) would resent me when I got home, or well before. For me, there was no choice in going though. I remember speaking to a social worker a couple years ago, and he had told me that I did for everyone else and not for myself, that I worried too much what other people thought of me. This for me would make or break the rest of our lives together no matter what the decision and the outcome was. If I choose not to go, it meant me giving up a piece of me, a dream to do something with myself other than being a mom , other than the dedicated military wife that faithfully follows her husband from base to base, and an opportunity to make a difference, or so I had hoped. Going also provided me partial insight into what tours posed for him previously, and what home life posed for me on a daily basis when he was absent. If I did go, and he did resent me, then that was something I would have to live with, for me though, it was a show of character and what our relationship could withstand, and if not than it would fall through.

My husband wasn’t the only one I was worried about though. Robbie was 12, and at first I wasn’t really worried so much about him. He was growing up, and fast; I knew, or at least thought that he would have no problem or issues with mom going away for such a long period of time. I thought he was getting to old for his mom, and didn’t need me. He had started hanging out with his friends more and more, stopped giving us hugs and kisses, and in general was maturing very fast. It wasn’t long before I learned how much my 12 year old still needed his mom, and my heart broke when my husband would tell me of how he would talk to me on the phone and go to his room after for a private cry before coming out to rejoin whatever was going on at the time. Robbie had taken on a ton of responsibility during my deployment, more so then I had anticipated. He made sure his brother was up in the mornings for school, gave him breakfast, and made sure he was dressed in the mornings so that when dad returned from PT, he could come home change himself for work and take Anthony to daycare. When they reached Moscow, he has made sure that not only is Anthony ready in the mornings, but is also off to school, not much change since they head in the same direction, but he also gets him after school and watches him till dad arrives home. If Ron was to work on the weekend, than Robbie watched Anthony in the TV room at the Embassy until it was time to go home. It was a give in that Robbie deserved a big ticket for all his dedication to my cause. He came out of it with a new WII. Something we now all enjoy as a family.

Anthony on the other hand was only 5, and I knew he would have a problem with me being away for so long. The first two years of Anthony’s life it was pretty much just him, Robbie and me. Ron was away a lot either on tours or on exercises. He had been breastfed for the first 14 months, and the only other people he saw during that time was my best friend Shannon. We did everything from shopping together, which was almost constant as Shannon and I had somewhat of an addiction to Wal-Mart, watching Robbie every week at cadets, and most days he even shared my bed. He was glued to me. It was for me though, a now or never opportunity, and I thought that Anthony, my youngest who had always been a mamma’s boy could do with a little loosening, and some quality time with his dad, who he hadn’t had a chance to bond with. Although I wanted him to be not so dependent on me, at the same time I was fearful that when I did get back, he would no longer want to cuddle with his mom, either because he was now too old to snuggle, or resentful to me for leaving him for so long. I remember watching the news one day and a clip of Afghanistan came on, I called Anthony over and told him that that was where mommy was going. He instantly cried, it was obviously that even at his young age, he remembered when daddy was there, and how long he had been away. My promise to Anthony was a vacation when mommy got back. I’d say that we’ve had our share of those since my return with many more in the future. All he could say during my leave while “on vacation” was see mom you said we were going to go on vacation. During my HLTA my fears lessened when as usual, my husband became the target of my young ones hostility and I became the mom that never left, the benefit of all his copious amounts of snuggles and affection. As I sat in Toronto waiting to be reunited with my kids once again, my little guy anxiously awaits also, pestering his dad on a daily basis as to the return of his mom, and assuring me on the phone that when I get home all he wants to do is “read Green Eggs and Ham, and cuddle”. My fears put aside.

Now being reunited with my family a month after returning from overseas, we still haven’t read Green Eggs and Ham, but we’ve read many other books, and had plenty of snuggles. My little guy is still a mamma’s boy, only changing in that I have to kiss him goodbye or hello at the gate before we get to the school so his friends don’t see and make fun of him, and instead of his usual aggressive ways towards his dad as before I left, he is loving to him, including him in hugs and goodnight kisses. My six months away, no matter how hard for all us at one time or another secured a bond between him and his dad that I’m sure would have taken much longer to achieve otherwise.


MY FEARS THERE: My fears about being in a war torn country started the moment I stepped off the plane onto the Kandahar Air Field. It was in that moment I realized that I was in Afghanistan, a place where our soldiers were dying, where the Taliban did not want us, yet the everyday citizens and the government welcomed us with open arms. This was the place I knew nothing about, where I would be living in a tent for six months, using communal bathrooms and showers, and where I would have to learn my job quickly, quicker than I’d ever trained for a job before. I would have to put my fears aside when it came to communicating and socializing and learn to open up, start conversations, and hold a conversation. I was no longer allowed to be shy, timid, or apprehensive. It was time for me to put any fears aside.

A big fear became the rockets, the first coming in after I’d been on the ground only a few days. I was surprised to see how laid back everyone was. It was like it was a regular occurrence for them. Most nights the rockets were nothing more than annoyance, sometimes coming in at odd hours of the night, when you had a shift early in the morning. There were a couple times that I realized the severity of damage a rocket could cause, or how close it could hit. Most nights rockets would only come in one, maybe two at a time. There was one night though I remember being in the bunker, PPE on, and wondering when they would stop. The constant warning over the sirens of the JDOC announcing us that we were under rocket attack had begun to wear on me. We had been in and out of the bunker and back to work a few times before we were really “all clear”. Most times in the bunker, it was like a little party, something we didn’t often take seriously and often you could see more people hanging outside the bunker smoking and hanging out than inside. This night I was with a couple close friends and we made our jokes from inside the bunker sitting on a couple as close to porn magazines that were left behind. Our visit didn’t last much longer than any other night, but it sure woke us up to the reality once again what could be. Something we all needed once in awhile.

My greatest fear while in KAF was that I would have to stand ramp for someone that I knew, someone I recognized, someone I had become friends with, or someone that I had a conversation with. I worried for our troops, and I worried for the troops of other nations that I got to know, as I didn’t think I would ever find out if something had happened to them as we only got word of Canadian casualties. I thought I was in the clear until the week before I left, that’s when my tour changed.


IN COMING HOME: My six months overseas is over now and I quickly realized that the fears I had in going and being there were quite liberating. I had come close on a couple occasions to coming home, but after speaking with a good friend, I realized that it was something I wouldn’t forgive myself for. Like all fears we have, I didn’t let mine conquer me. I didn’t let them get in the way of a truly unique experience that only comes around once in a lifetime. My situation in going home is exceptional. I am not back to Gagetown, the military base where my husband was posted upon my departure, but rather I am in Russia, news my husband received only a month after my deployment to Afghanistan was underway. Russia was something that came up a couple months prior to me leaving, but upon my departure out of Canada we were given a clear “no”, that a posting overseas to Moscow would not be in our immediate future due to many logistical issues with it, and so I left Canada thinking that I would see it once again in six months time. I was one month into my tour when I got an emergency phone call overseas saying that I needed to call home right away. Somehow, some way we had managed to get the posting and my husband needed a quick response if I was in for it. Reluctantly I responded with a yes, but not at the cost of my deployment, and so with much aggravation back home and many turned in favours I finished my tour, waited a month in Toronto on my VISA, and joined my family in our new home overseas just over a month subsequent to my return. It was now time to not readjust to family life and marriage, but customize myself with a new country, new culture and so many other “news”.

My Little Angel

It is once again that my faith has been hardened. It is during times like these when I wonder if there is a God, or a greater good. I lend my faith into hands I can’t see and hope that the choices made for me are for the best. I pray to Him to do as He sees fit, that no matter what He decides I know He has His reasons, and that whatever He chooses for me, it is because He knows I can handle it with grace.

I held in me a new life, a tiny life no bigger than a speck of rice, but one that I ultimately cherished all the same. I immediately nourished my body and held shelter, for that little life’s dependence on me was apparent. My little life was my hope, and my dream. I was to carry that little miracle until it bloomed, able to stand life on its own outside of me.

It was seen fit that now was not the time and slowly and with much torment you fled from me. You were merely in sight a speck of rice, no life of your own yet, nothing to distinguish you, barely even there with so much time still to grow.

I asked Him, if it was not to be, why not make it quick, why must it be drawn out? How could He be so cruel? Was He once again testing my faith, or lack thereof? How could He create such a miracle, a life and so cruelly take it away?

Answers to these questions I’ll without doubt never have, and so I say goodbye to you, and hold you up, to the heavens to be with those that have also made their way. You’re with the heroes now, may they hold you in their gentle arms until I can hold you in mine.

My little angel.