Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Saturday, May 21, 2011


The anger of which I spoke in my last post is still very much alive, just not so prevalent (although I have a feeling that the poor Best Buy delivery guy that I gave a hard time for refusing to come in my back patio until I confined my dog may argue differently). It has subsided somewhat from the forefront of my thoughts and has made way for a new emotion...fear.

I'm not afraid of my everyday life or routine tasks. I am afraid for my children and my family. The other day, I was feeding my boys their lunch. We were having our usual fun when all of a sudden I was overcome with this morbid fear that Adler was not Adler. Thoughts of, "Oh my God, what if the hospital made a mistake? What if this is really Boe and it was Adler who died?" began running through my mind. It was paralyzing to think that we may have been mourning the "wrong" child for the last year. I know in my heart and my mind that this is not the case, that Adler is here and Boe is gone, but in that moment, the fear was so raw and so real. I just looked at my boys and cried, trying to feed them through my tears.

During my pregnancy with my boys I had a false sense of security. I had fooled myself into believing that God loved me too much to bless me with 3 babies and then have something bad happen. I had myself fooled into believing that all would be well. Now, unfortunately, I know all too well that this is not the case. I know that bad things happen to good people and that, in an instant, our lives can change before our very eyes. I looked at my daughter, Libby, the other day and marveled in her preciousness. She is funny, sweet and dear. She has beautiful blue eyes and golden curls. If I could gobble her up, I would. As I admired her, I was suddenly stricken with an awful thought. What if she were no longer here? What if she were part of my life one second and gone the next?

The old me would have said that God loves me too much to put me throught the loss of a child again. But the new me knows that this is not true. I don't get a "pass" just because I have been through it before. I am just as likely to have another awful loss or event happen in my life as the next guy, and it scares the living crap out of me. It is so hard to not let this fear just stop me in my tracks. Every fiber of my being wants to be the "helicopter mom" who hovers around her children to prevent anything awful from happening.

But who am I to stop what is meant to be? No one. So many people have told me to just "hand it over to God" to let him do the work. How can I hand over what was never truly mine to begin with? When we lost Boe, I realized that NOTHING is in our hands. All I can do is hope for the best in each day. I must live my life to its fullest to honor Boe and the life he will never have and to honor my husband and living children. They all deserve a woman who is willing to risk immense pain and loss in exchange for great love and beauty. Yes, this makes me afraid, VERY afraid; but I will not let it define me. Rather, overtime, I shall learn to let it strengthen me and make me a better version of the woman I am right now.

Friday, May 6, 2011


Dear God,

Lately, anger has been a prevalent issue at group. I know it is one of the steps in the grieving process, and I have been thinking about it alot. At first I thought there was something wrong with me because as I looked back over the last year, I really couldn't pinpoint a time at which I felt truly angry that Boe was gone. As I recall the last year's events, there really is no one I can blame for what happened, so how can I possibly be angry?

Yet, the more I think about it, the more the anger builds. The more it builds, the more horrified and disgusted I am with myself. I am angry at YOU. When Adam and I found out we were expecting triplets, our world turned upside down. How were we gong to do it? I would have to stay home and we are both teachers. How would I care for 3 babies and a toddler all by myself? What if my children were not OK since a multiple birth presents with such a plethora of risks, how would we handle it? The answer, to me, was simple. We just would.

God, I believed in you. I believed that you would not give me more than you felt I could handle. I believed that you must think me pretty special to entrust me with not 1, but 3, new babies. Every night as I put Libby to bed, she and I would pray. Our last prayer was always for the health and safety of her unborn brothers and mommy. Until April 22, 2010 our prayers were being answered.

Perhaps I had myself fooled. Throughout my pregnancy I had myself convinced that God loved me too much to bless me with 3 precious boys only to have something bad happen. God, something worse than bad happened, something unspeakable happened. In the days immediately following Boe's death, I clung to you. I was sure that if I held fast to my faith, I would be OK. It comforted me to know that Boe was safe in Heaven with you.

Now 1 year later, knowing that he is safe with you is not a comfort, but a source of anger and pain. Wasn't I good enough to be his mommy? Was there something wrong with me? With Adam? Don't we deserve him? Adam and I are good people, we live our lives trying to be of service to others. We live our lives trying to do the right thing, and look where it got us.

God, I know this may sound sacrilegious or blasphemous. I think that is why it has taken me so long to identify and speak about the source of my anger. I am ashamed that I am angry with you. I no longer wish to go to church on Sundays; to do so is actually a painful reminder of my loss, as it is the last place Boe was actually close enough to touch. I no longer say prayers for health and safety before I go to bed each night, what is the point?

Sayings like, "God does not give you more than you can handle" or, "God has a plan" or, "God doesn't make mistakes" no longer comfort me or give me the strength to keep going. Rather they anger me and make me shake my head because I cannot handle that Boe is gone, I do not understand how you keeping my baby is a good plan, could it be that you did, in fact, make a mistake?

God, I used to turn to you in my deepest, darkest hours of need. I would pray, bargain and plead for you to help me sort out what was wrong in my life, and you always seemed to deliver. But now, you are the one who has caused my deepest darkest hour of need. How am I to free myself this time? To whom can I turn now?