When M was born I was told he either aspirated or he had a heart defect. I prayed for aspiration. I got heart defect. Then when I got pregnant again I prayed every night that my baby would be healthy, born healthy, able to nurse, that we’d have the “normal” hospital experience. I miscarried.
Did God fail me? Maybe he wasn’t listening, maybe there is no God. I was bitter. Very bitter. I still am. I’ve felt like my prayers have not been answered, that it’s been one struggle after another for the past 2 years. I’ve wanted to throw in the towel to this whole spirituality thing. I’ve wanted to give up. I’ve wanted to scream at God for putting me through all this trauma. For making my life so hard.
But maybe he was listening? I’ve gone back and forth with why these things have happened me, to us as a family. Isn’t that always the question? Why me? Yes, I’ve asked that question over and over again. Along with: What did I do wrong? Am I defective? Is there something wrong with me? I prayed for M to be okay. Maybe his heart defect was his saving grace. Maybe, just maybe, God was listening. Maybe M wouldn’t have survived aspiration like my niece did. Maybe, just maybe, God was listening when I asked for a healthy baby. Maybe He knew I couldn’t handle another extended hospital stay, so He decided we should start over.
Maybe I messed up.
Maybe I should be praying for acceptance, guidance, and trusting that God knows what he’s doing. Maybe I prayed a little too hard for a healthy baby. After all, I’d rather another extended hospital stay than no baby. This applies to both M and future babies.
I’m told that my miscarriage is because something was “wrong” with the pregnancy, with the “fetus.” I’m told it’s nothing I did or could have done. I still wonder though. Was the “something wrong,” something that would have just meant an extended hospital stay? Would it have meant a lifelong struggle of medical bills? Would it have meant that my child would have had a short Earthbound existence?
Please don’t tell me: You can’t ask those questions. Or, Don’t do that to yourself. Or, Stop wondering the ‘what ifs.’ Or, similar statements. To be honest, unless you’ve been through what I’ve been through, or something similar, the only thing you could say that won’t make me want to scream is: “I’m sorry.” Maybe a hug, a shoulder to cry on, or just your presence.
Honestly, I’ve been doing really well. It may not seem that way with this quasi-depressing post, but I am doing well. But, I still wonder about our Angel, I still think of our Angel everyday. And, obviously, I still wonder and think of the “what ifs.” But I’m coming to terms with our loss, I’m accepting that new things are on our horizon. But, I want you to know, I want the WORLD to know, that it’s not as simple as just moving on. One doesn’t just “get over” something like this. I had a life inside me and that life is gone. I “should” be 22 weeks pregnant. I’d know the gender at this point, my level 2 ultrasound would be done, I’d know if I was having another heart baby. But that life is gone, I’m not 22 weeks pregnant. It’s not something you just get over. But it’s something you move forward with. I’ll miss what might have been for the rest of my life. THE. REST. OF. MY. LIFE. I won’t ever “get over it.” I don’t want to get over it, I don’t ever want to forget. If I forget it’s like it didn’t happen, and then I’d be denying my sweet Angel and I would never want to deny that my Angel ever existed.
So, did God fail me or was He listening? I don’t know. I’ll never know. I’d like to believe He was listening. But, for now, I’ll keep wondering and trying to find my foothold in this whole spiritual universe. And every night, as I rock M to sleep, I’ll continue to pray to God, to thank him for our blessings, to lift up those names who need him, to ask for understanding, to ask for acceptance. I need to believe, I need to feel like there’s some sort of meaning to all the terrible things that happen in this world. I need my faith to continue living in this world.
I guess I haven’t given up on Him yet.