Over the last 21 months I have done a lot of "work". I have read, I have researched, I have found other women who have lost children, I have "support grouped", I have walked in my Baby Boe's name, I have visited my boy at the cemetery and placed flowers at his grave, I have grieved in silence and out loud. As I have done all of these things, my relationship with God has shifted. There have been times when I have been perfectly at peace with his decision to take Boe, and there have been days when I have seethed with anger and resentment to the point that to be around me has, no doubt, been very unpleasant and toxic.
I can honestly say that, as I write this, I am in a place of peace these days. I miss Boe everyday, and I do not believe that will ever change, nor do I want it to. I know there will be times when I can speak of him and smile and times that just hearing his name will reduce me to tears, and I am OK with that.
I am blessed with all the children that I have, living and dead. Each of them have touched my heart and shaped who I am as a woman in ways that I cannot explain. This is kind of how I see it; I am honored that God chose me to carry one of his heavenly angels. I am so grateful he gave me the 229 days with Boe that I had. If he had given Boe his wings any sooner, Adler and Cameron may not have survived, and that is just too dark and painful a thought to bear.
So, thank you, God. Thank you for letting me carry one of your precious little guardians. Thank you for letting me carry him just long enough to be able to keep his earthly brothers here. Many people only dream of angels, but I held one in my arms. Thank you.