I slowly began telling my friends what happened. I did a pretty good job, in my mind, of acting like I trusted God, that I was ok, that everything was fine. At at first, I really think it was. 

Then on January 3, 2007, my dog passed away. Judah was so much like my own child; my childhood dog, my best of friends. Just like with my miscarriage, I knew it was coming, but when it happened nothing prepared me for how much pain would follow. He passed away on a Wednesday night and I couldn’t go to work for the next two days. I was doing my best just to hang on, just to get out of bed and know that despite loosing a baby and my best companion within 3 weeks of each other, God was still good. I understood the logic, I understood it because this is what I was told, but I didn’t feel it, I didn’t believe it.

Later that week, my friend, Jessica, announced her pregnancy. That made three. Three girlfriends from church were pregnant. Three women would go on to have children, and mine was taken away far, far too soon. 

I got mad. Not at these women, not at the people around me, but at God. Why me? Why me? What lesson was God trying to teach me? Was it necessary to cause so much pain in order to show me? Was God still good? I didn’t know. I couldn’t say that He was. All I knew was that His word gave truth, and His word said He was good. 

So I began to read.