Today what I am thinking about is my children. I hear people complain about their kids all the time, I mean it's like I can't go anywhere without hearing mothers snipping at toddlers, or yanking kids around... I think I'm probably hyper-sensitive to it because of my lack of living children. I wonder if I'd be that way with my kids. I like to think that because of our profound loss that I'll be a better momma when my time comes. I'd really like to believe that my time is coming.
I don't mean to judge those parents who complain about how little they get to sleep, how terrible potty training is going, or how inconsiderate their kids are...but part of me wants to grab them by the larynx, show them pictures of my babies headstones...and scream, "DON'T YOU SEE...YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN A MOST AMAZING PRIZE...CHERISH EVERY SECOND, EVERY SCREAM OF FRUSTRATION, EVERY SLEEPLESS NIGHT...EVERY I LOVE YOU, EVERY TOUCH."
This week has been so emotional for me. I am exhausted as we have been going non-stop with revival at church this week. My hubs is on staff at our church, so we are there a lot and with revival we are there even more. It has been so good, and I have much to share...but it's also been stirring up a lot in me that I've been neglecting.
Right now, without thinking about it too hard I can list 7 girls that are pregnant with #2, 3 or even 4... It is a happy time, and they are my friends, and I want to be excited for them. I want to share in the joy of a new baby, because I truly love babies, and children in general. But, I cannot seem to get there mentally. My heart aches for my Levi. I should be so big and round, with him rolling around inside...but instead I make calls to the cemetery about his crooked headstone, or plan what flowers to put out next time I'm at the gravesite, or make arrangements to place flowers on the alter in his memory.
I want to be stronger. I want to be more than a mother to two dead babies. I want to rise up, victorious, and proclaim that God is still good and that I am blessed indeed. I want that to be my spirit's cry... But I am so weak, and in my weakness I doubt Him. In my weakness I question what is right and what is just, and what is from God as opposed to what is allowed by God. I have so many questions, so much that I am so unsure of... What is it that I need to learn that one dead child didn't teach me, and now I have two...and I still have no idea!?!?
I ache with a depth that cannot be put into words. And words are not big enough to convey the emptiness of my womb. As I stumble through the stages of grief I am astounded by how deep the pain is rooted. I can still smell Levi, and feel the weight of him in my hands. I can remember every trace of his face when I close my eyes, of course I see him every time I look at Matt. I remember his warm little body, that tiny hand grasping my finger and his sweet little mouth greedily gulping down a few breaths. He was a warrior boy, a tiny hero. I miss my son so much.
Your sun will never set again, and your moon will wane no more; the LORD will be your everlasting light, and your days of sorrow will end. Then will all your people be righteous and they will possess the land forever. They are the shoot I have planted, the work of my hands, for the display of my splendor. The least of you will become a thousand, the smallest a mighty nation. I am the LORD; in its time I will do this swiftly."