No place to hide

This morning, when I went to post my blog on Facebook, I saw that yet another one of my friends had their baby. As I looked at the pictures of the precious little face, I sobbed. I'm so angry. Why does it seem like everyone on earth is either pregnant or snuggling with their perfect little babies? Why did I assume that getting pregnant would mean I would get a baby? I must be stupid. I'm so angry. Next year, everyone will be talking about their baby's first birthdays. I'll be sitting here, still without my baby, trying to be happy for them, imagining what Samuel would have looked like, what he would have sounded like, how big he would be and what he would have been doing. They will all be trying to outdo one another with their over-the-top, keeping-up-with-the-Jones' parties and I'll be wishing I could just hold him close and sing to him while he eats his cake that I made for him. This is so wrong!

I just want to run away forever. I don't want to see another woman's pregnant belly or hear another "I'm so happy...we're going to have a baby!" notice on Facebook. I hate everyone who doesn't realize the value of their children. When I think about how many people have babies and then just stick them in daycare all day every day, I'm sick. I would give anything - everything - to spend all day every day with my baby. Where can I possibly go where I won't have to hear about people and their babies? There is absolutely no escape and I hate it. I imagine myself getting in the car and driving away; never looking back. But where can I go? There is no place I can hide.

I hate this... I'm just trapped. And once again, I have no choice. Even as I sit here in my anguish and sickened hatred of the world, I looked outside to see a daddy and his little toddler boy walking hand-in-hand down the sidewalk. REALLY?!? Are you kidding me God? When will you step in to stop all this?

I keep thinking of the words to the Shania Twain song - It only hurts when I'm breathing:

...it only hurts when I'm breathing
My heart only breaks when it's beating
My dreams only die when I'm dreaming
So, I hold my breath--to forget
 
If I could just stop living, I'd be ok. But instead I sit here in my own private hell. There is no escape...no place to hide. 

Just like so many other times, I think to myself "Thank goodness for Bryan". He keeps me from losing it completely. He gives me reason to stay and reason to live. At least I still have one of my loves. <3

Back and Forth

God is the strong and silent type. Satan, on the other hand, doesn't shut up. As I sit here and try to figure out how to carry on, I imagine God next to me, looking with love, and whispering "I know love...you're hurting. I'm here when you want me". In my pain, I turn away. Satan creeps up next, words pouring from his mouth. "This is your fault. This is God's fault. You can't go on without Samuel. You'll never be able to cope. You should just lay down and die with him. How dare God not heal him on earth. You were robbed of all that you cared about! You should hate everyone who gets to be pregnant. You should hate everyone who gets to keep their baby. You should just hate everyone." In my pain, I wrap his words around me like a blanket, slump to the floor and cry out in misery. I choose to hate everyone. I choose to believe life can't possibly go on without Samuel. I choose to hate God for allowing me to go through all I did and end up with nothing.

All the while God is still there, quietly watching me with love in his eyes. When He catches my gaze for a moment He once again reminds me "I'm here when you want me". The blanket falls from my shoulders for a moment and I consider His offer. "Maybe I can be ok someday. I know Samuel is safe and so happy. He's fine...maybe I should try to be ok too". I try to stand up. "Ok God, I need you." He pulls me up and holds me close. All I feel is His love and comfort. I picture Samuel, so happy and full of love. How can I possibly be upset that he is gone when I know how amazing his life is in heaven? It's only a matter of time until I can be with him forever. Maybe I should try to make the most of my life without him. I will see him again. Maybe I can go on... For a moment, I feel ok and I try to move forward. But Satan and his lies and hurt are never far away and in moments of weakness, when I turn from God's grasp, he is right there to cover me with the heavy blanket of grief and pain.

This is how the past few weeks have felt. Back and forth between the two. Some moments are filled with so much pain, sadness, loneliness and emptiness; I think I'll never get over it. Other moments are ok. Yes, I miss him intensely, but there is nothing I can do, so I should just try to pick my life back up and move forward. Back and forth. Okay, not okay.

I started to put away some of his things. I don't want to put too much emphasis on his things, lest I become a hoarder. I want to remember him. I try to imagine myself in different situations; things I may do in the next few months. There is always something missing. My little Samuel is always missing. Will there really be a day when I don't feel his absence? Will there really be a day when I can remember him without the ache inside?

All I wanted was a baby. What I got was the most love I've ever felt (my time with him) then the worst pain I've ever faced (missing him forever). I hate this. One day at a time...one moment at a time. It's already been three weeks.

The Storm

God, today I woke up with such a heavy heart. I miss my baby so much! Why did you take him? Why did you allow him to die? Why do I have to live without him? How can you possibly think this is a good plan?

Last night, we had a tornado warning for a few hours. We went downstairs and tucked in for a evening of watching the weather channel and waiting for it to pass. I had the weirdest sensation the whole time: I wanted to protect Samuel. It makes no sense; he is safer than I am!, but it was there nonetheless. I guess it was my mothering instinct. It kept happening all night. The sirens would sound and my heart would beat faster as I longed to hold him close and speak calming words to him. My brain could tell me he wasn't here but my heart kept looking for him. I felt like I had nothing to do with my hands. They should have been working to protect and comfort Samuel.

I also realized we now own things that are unreplaceable. For instance, the little box of his ashes, the disks of his photos, and the molds of his hands and feet. I snatched those things up as we went downstairs. I also had this thought of his room being destroyed and it killed me. I hate that I now have so many things that feel so irreplaceable. It's just a crib...but it's his crib. So now what? Do I buy a vault and keep it all locked up forever? I need to try to separate him from his things so I don't go nuts trying to hang on to them.

Much later in the evening, after the storm had passed, I was in bed trying to go to sleep. I began praying for some things when I had this overwhelming sense of discouragement. I actually thought "What's the point?" I cried because I finally realized how much I feel let down by God. I know I can trust Him, but I don't feel I can trust Him. I hate that. I stopped mid-word in my prayer and said to myself, "He's just going to do whatever He wants anyways." I hate that I feel this way. I'm just so confused. He knew how much pain this outcome would bring. How could He possibly think this was the best plan?

Each day is a new emotion (sometimes even each hour). Just when I feel like I can take this on and make it through, a new wave of sadness or loneliness hits me. I'm so disgusted that I have so little control over my life now. I guess none of us have as much as we believe we do. It can all be taken away in an instant.

So many people are trying their best to help me. There is nothing anyone can do. There are no magic words that will bring me comfort, there are no ways of caring for me that will leave me feeling secure, there are no amounts of time spent with me that will take away my pains of missing him. There are only two people I want to be with - Samuel and Bryan. I care about people and I don't ever want to hurt anyone. I just want to be alone. All I want is to stay in bed all day. I don't want to try to listen to what anyone has to say. I can't fathom trying to care about anything. I'm tired just thinking of spending time with anyone. Maybe I'll just turn off my phone for a while.

It's just another day for everyone else. For me it's another day without my love.

Changing My Perspective

At my two-week post-op appointment on Friday, after a "everything looks good " (surgery-wise), we got a copy of my file to take home. I was a bit hesitant to read it, but I did - page by page - for about an hour (needless to say...it's LONG). It made me realize something I guess I haven't allowed myself to consider: Samuel was never going to live. (Not from a medical standpoint, anyways). Despite having to look up many (many) of the words in the reports, I realized as I read that he was up against too much. Page after page has words and phrases that indicate just how bad things were. The words "grim outcome" and "fatal" are used often and much. The many effects of his condition were listed out and the list was much longer then I realized. Nevertheless, in almost every report beginning in November, each different page and doctor makes some reference to the fact that "[baby] is still growing and developing, despite the grim prognosis". (My favorite line includes the words "even making breathing movements"...my baby was a fighter!)

To read my file is to know that God truly gave us a gift when he gave us eight months with Samuel.

This doesn't suddenly make it ok with me that he died. I will never be ok with that. What is does, however, is give me a new perspective. One where God is not a God who doesn't keep His promises, or who misleads us with the words in the Bible, but one where God is a loving and merciful God who knew the outcome but allowed us to have some more time with our little love. I got to look in my baby's eyes and tell him how much I loved him. Daddy got some very special one-on-one time. I have hundreds of beautiful photos of my special boy. Those things are a gift that we may not have received if God was not at work in the situation.

I was talking with a friend last night and she helped me remember how at our very first Rochester appointment, after the specialist had confirmed Samuel was very sick, the nurse had given me a page of miscarriage symptoms and told me to call her right away when I noticed them. The key word here is "when"...not "if". From the notes in the file and the words we were told that day in November, it's very clear they did not think Samuel would live for even days more. But our God is a loving and powerful God. He knew we needed more time. He knew how special the time we would have with Samuel would be for us (and many others). So He gave us five more months to love him. Five months of joyful anticipation and deep unending love. Despite some bad days (who wouldn't have bad days all things considered...) we mostly had great days filled with so much happiness. We felt him move, we watched him grow and we were confident he heard us love on him.

So what does this all mean. Well, it means God has given me a glimpse of why I have felt some peace. It means I can praise God for being merciful to us. It means I can realize that Samuel was a miracle. His very short life was a precious gift. The list of things we did with him and for him in those five months is long. I even think, if he had died back then, we would have had to deliver a lifeless baby and would have never known what he really looked like. I would have never seen his eyes and his soft hair. We wouldn't have gotten any of the photos we have of him. (They are so incredibly special to me.) It would have always felt like I was cheated out of the pregnancy. But God changed all that. He knew we needed more time and He said "ok". (Yes, I do whole-heartily wish He would have said "ok" to a life-time). For now, God has given me a tiny glimpse of the "why". I'll take it.

____________________________________________________________________
Side note: some old hymns have been going through my mind lately. We have gotten away from using them in church, but the messages in them are often so true and to the point. What great reminders of the simple truths of the Bible. (If you ever get a chance to hear the story of the author of "It is Well with My Soul", Horatio G. Spafford's life, it's absolutely amazing.)

1. When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
   When sorrows like sea billows roll;
   Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
   It is well, it is well, with my soul.
   • Refrain:
     It is well, with my soul,
     It is well, it is well, with my soul.
2. Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
   Let this blest assurance control,
   That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
   And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
3. My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
   My sin, not in part but the whole,
   Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
   Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
4. For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
   If Jordan above me shall roll,
   No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
   Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
5. But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
   The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
   Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
   Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!
6. And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
   The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
   The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
   Even so, it is well with my soul.

1. What a friend we have in Jesus,
   All our sins and griefs to bear!
   What a privilege to carry
   Everything to God in prayer!
   Oh, what peace we often forfeit,
   Oh, what needless pain we bear,
   All because we do not carry
   Everything to God in prayer!
2. Have we trials and temptations?
   Is there trouble anywhere?
   We should never be discouraged—
   Take it to the Lord in prayer.
   Can we find a friend so faithful,
   Who will all our sorrows share?
   Jesus knows our every weakness;
   Take it to the Lord in prayer.
3. Are we weak and heavy-laden,
   Cumbered with a load of care?
   Precious Savior, still our refuge—
   Take it to the Lord in prayer.
   Do thy friends despise, forsake thee?
   Take it to the Lord in prayer!
   In His arms He’ll take and shield thee,
   Thou wilt find a solace there.
4. Blessed Savior, Thou hast promised
   Thou wilt all our burdens bear;
   May we ever, Lord, be bringing
   All to Thee in earnest prayer.
   Soon in glory bright, unclouded,
   There will be no need for prayer—
   Rapture, praise, and endless worship
   Will be our sweet portion there

Nothing left

All that I could do for Samuel has been done. There is nothing left to say, nothing left to make, nothing left to plan. It's all done. Now, there is nothing more to do but go forward. That makes me sick. I poured my life into him for eight months. My almost every thought was about him. My every plan involved him. Now it's all gone. I try to think of things to do and they are all meaningless. What on earth is the point? I can't think of a single thing to do that seems worthwhile. It feels as though all control of my life has been taken from me.

All I wanted was a baby. All I wanted was a family.  All I wanted was a normal pregnancy, a normal time of preparing for him and celebrating his coming. All I wanted was a natural and uneventful birth. All I wanted was to bring my baby home and spend the rest of my life loving him. All that was taken from me. From the moment we learned he was sick, all my plans were ruined. Every day I had to decide to be positive. Every day I had to purposefully block out the thoughts of "what if he doesn't live?" I prayed and begged for my sons life for hours on end, every day, for months. I believed with my whole heart that God was going to heal him and use his life to changes the lives of others. I guess I was wrong about the healing (on earth, anyways). God never did say to me that He would let us keep Samuel. So, I guess it's my fault for believing He would.

There are so many emotions flowing through me. There is a deep and unending love for Bryan and Samuel. When I think of how great Bryan was with Samuel, I love him so much! He is such a great daddy! As I look at the pictures of him holding and cuddling Samuel, my heart breaks that he doesn't get to continue being an amazing daddy to him.

When I see pictures of Samuel, I die inside that I can't hold him or touch him or hear him or smell him. I keep thinking maybe I'll wake up and this will all be a nightmare. There is nothing I can say and nothing I can do to bring him back. It's done and I hate it.

I think of how someday I'll be ok with this and that thought makes me sick too. I don't want to be ok without him. I don't want to live a life where my baby is dead. I try to imagine life in a year and I can't. Everyone else just keeps on living. Everyone feels bad for us and offers support, but they don't know. I will never be without this. I will never ever forget this. I will never ever stop wondering what he would have looked like as he grew. What his personality would have been like. What he would have done in life. These will be unanswered questions until I die.

I feel so broken. It goes through my head a least a few times a day that we must be defective for this to have happened. I think of everyone else in the world with there kids and I think "what on earth is wrong with us?"  They can tell us all day long that it was a fluke, but I don't buy it. (And I would guess that other people wonder the same thing about us.) If it was a fluke, then why us. We wanted him more than anything. So why us?

Despite my strange feelings towards Him right now, I know God is with us. How do I know this? Because I can get up everyday. Because I can take a shower and get dressed. Because I can love Bryan and want to keep going for him. Because He continually meets our needs. Because, despite all my pain, I can feel peace that my baby is safe and happy. Sometimes, I find myself thinking of a praise song and the words won't leave my mind. I think "NO! I will not sing this!" or "How can you expect me to praise you God?" But they won't go away, so I give in, and God gives me peace. He had not left us and I know He hurts with us. But He knows the whole story. He knows the "why". Maybe someday He'll tell me.

Now, back to trying to make it though the day...

Searching for Samuel

My arms are looking for the baby they should be holding. My ears are listening for the cry they should be hearing. My body is looking for the baby to feed, hold close and protect. My eyes are looking for the face of my baby. My heart is looking for the place to pour out all the love I have for him. My brain is scanning for a reason why there is nothing where there should be something so special. My legs are ready to run any distance to find him. My hands are desperate to caress his soft skin. My soul is longing to connect with his. My mouth is overflowing with kisses for him and words of love to whisper in his ears.

It's all in vain...there is no baby to find.

God, why didn't you trust me to raise him? Why didn't you think I could do it? I would have done anything for him. Why, God, did you take my baby?

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.