I’m trying to find peace again.

I’m trying to find hope again.

I’m trying to find my faith again.

I keep reading every book I can get my hands on, reading every blog I can find, and listening to every song that I can find.  If someone mentions that something helped them through a difficult time, I’ve taken notes.  I’m longing for something to ease the pain, anything that will fill the giant hole in my heart.  Every song seems to take on a new meaning.  I actually cried listening to the theme song from Friends the other day.

I know that I’m in a dark place.  I know that I have to learn to find the light again, but it is just so damn difficult.  I have stood on my faith in God for so long and always been the eternal optimist even when everything around me was falling down, I was always able to hold tight to that faith and find the strength to keep pushing forward.

Right now, I feel like everything I ever wanted and prayed for was ripped away and it’s so hard to hang on to that same faith in God.  I prayed that God would bless us with a baby and we got pregnant right away.  I prayed that we would have a healthy pregnancy and a healthy little baby to bring home and watch grow.  I prayed that God would help us raise our child to know Him.

Even when things started to get scary in the hospital, I prayed that God would guide us.  I prayed for the wisdom of the nurses and doctors.  I prayed that we would be okay.  When they came to tell me that Joshua was going to be born that night I prayed so hard that we would both survive this nightmare.  I knew.  I knew it was too soon for him.  I knew that what the doctors were telling me wasn’t right, but I put my trust in God and prayed that everything would turn out all right.  After he was born and I was told that he was okay, that he was doing good, I thanked God for this precious child.  He was tiny, but he was a fighter and I had faith that God had gotten us through and would sustain us.

Then that awful morning.  There was no warning.  There was nothing to prepare me for the horrible scene I was walking/wheeling into.  No mother or father should have to walk in to a room where nurses are trying to revive their child.  No mother or father should be asked to stopped resuscitation in the same moment that they realize what is going on.  We weren’t prepared for that.  I cried out for my son, my husband, my mom, my God.  I prayed that God would take it all back.  I believed in miracles and I was desperately asking for one.  I prayed that God would perform a miracle for our family, for our Joshua.  I watched as they stopped trying to save him despite my cries of protest.  I watched as they wrapped him up and handed him over to me so that I could hold him in his last moments.  This was not how it was supposed to be.  All I could do was keep telling him I love him and that I was so sorry that he had to go.  I kissed his head and watched as his little arms reached up and out.  I wonder if he was seeing an angel come to pick him up.

I remember waking up that morning with a heaviness   I kept thinking that it was just the weight of the reality of what had happened over the last few days finally settling in.  I let Patrick continue to sleep on the awful pull out bed in the hospital room and I called my mom.  I called her and I cried.  I told her that I was just so worried about Joshua, but that I knew he was going to be okay, the doctors kept telling us that.  I just kept thinking of those three scriptures (Joshua 1:5, Joshua 1:9, and Jeremiah 29:11) over and over again.  I told my mom to print them off for me, for Josh.  I wanted to hang them up in his NICU room.  I wanted everyone who walked into that room to care for my son to know that God was in control and that little Joshua might be small, but he is mighty.  I understand now that the reason those verses were so heavy on my heart that morning was not for my sweet little boy, but for me.  It was God trying to prepare me.  He was trying to remind me to not lose sight of Him in the situation we were about to face.  I know with all my heart that God was trying to prepare me even if the doctors and nurses weren’t letting us know what was going on with Joshua.  There is no coincidence that I woke up that morning at roughly the same time that Josh began fighting for air.  There is no coincidence that I called my mom and was telling her my fears and worries at the same time that they were begin CPR on my son.  God was preparing me, I just didn’t know it at the time.

I’m still trying to understand how this could be part of God’s plan.

I’m still trying to see how any good can come out of this horrible nightmare that has become my life.

I’m still trying to cope with this new life without Joshua.

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