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.