Monday, April 23, 2012

All that love could do...

Ever since Samuel left us, I've been wanting to get mad. I want to scream and yell and tell someone off. I want to be angry at God for taking him, at people who tell me "it was God's plan", or at myself for believing he would be healed. The only problem with my plan is that I can't get mad. God is filling me with peace and I just can't muster the anger I want. Now, don't go confusing peace with happiness. I'm absolutely heartbroken that my baby is gone. There are moments when I want to hold him so badly I think I'll just die from misery. I would give absolutely anything on earth to have him back again. There are moments when I think of all my friends and their beautiful babies (just about every one of my friends either had a baby recently or is pregnant) and I'm just sick with wonder over why they get to keep their babies and I don't. Over and over in my mind, I wrestle with questions about what happened, why our baby, or why God didn't heal him on earth. But still, there is peace.

We received a card just after Samuel died. It says "All that love could do was done". I keep thinking on that. I want to have a logical reason for all this. I feel defective. Why did we have a baby with this condition? Every doctor we talk to and every resource we read says the same thing: it's just a fluke. My logical brain can't accept that answer. I guess I'll always wonder...but then I come back to the phrase, "All that love could do was done". We may never know exactly what happened or why, but we can be sure of that truth. We did everything we could for Samuel. Everything. He was always in God's control and the final decision of his healing was up to Him. But in as much as we could control we did all we could. We loved him with a deep and unending love. We gave our all to him. We taught him what we could and showed him what love is. We made a place for him in our hearts and home. We brought him places and told him about life. (We took him to SeaLife at Mall of America and, despite people probably thinking we we're nuts, we told Samuel all about what we were seeing. "Samuel, there are tons of turtles! Samuel, there are these big fish called sharks"...and so on). We only got eight months, but we made the most of those months. All that love could do was done. I can be sure of that.

I'm still at a loss for what to do now. As some of you know, my education is in counseling/psychotherapy. This may be obvious, but I'm in NO place to try to counsel anyone. (Plus, I just don't care about anyone's so called "problems" right now. ) So what on earth do I do? Going to work at Target just doesn't seem to matter but I can't just sit at home all alone all day. I need direction. For a while, I guess I will just be at home alone all day. Maybe I need that. For now, we'll just keep going one day at a time.

1 comment:

  1. RaeAnne: We know just making it through each day is a big accomplishment right now, but a suggestion for in the future might be volunteer work helping others in your church, a local nursing home, or other community organization who would love to use your skills and abilities and you would be giving to others and honoring Samuel's memory. We continue to uphold you and Bryan in our prayers.


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