Suffering and the Luxury of Grief

With three young children, grief is a luxury in this house.  Last time I wrapped myself tightly within the blanket of grief.  I wore it constantly.  I do not have that luxury this time.  These children need their mother as much as the one I carry inside does.  I need to smile, listen, play and teach.  I need to model appropriate behaviors for my children, to show them it is okay to grieve, but that it is not okay to let the grief destroy me.  That even on the darkest days there are moments of joy or at least beauty.  That while I am awaiting death, I must celebrate the life all around and within me. That's not saying that I don't cry or think about the heavy heavy burden that I carry every minute of the day.  It is ever present.  But sometimes I just have to push it aside and allow some other emotion to fill me instead.  I could cry a million tears and it will not bring my children back or save them, I know this because I have already done it.  I can beg, barter, scream and yell and it will not change anything.   Sometimes I feel as if there is no hope. But that's not true.  Our first daughter brought hope back into my world, she restored my faith in goodness and lifted the dark clouds that surrounded my heart.  In her I saw the joy and innocence that had literally been ripped out of my body just one year before.  I think the best I can hope for is to be graceful with my words and my actions. There is no villain to this story.