I feel like more and more memories are coming back to me.  I guess it’s not really the memories of the actual events of the day as those have always been crystal clear, but its the memories of the emotions I felt during those first few hours, days, and weeks.

Like today, out of nowhere, I can suddenly remember exactly how it felt to be taken back to my hospital room and left alone there with my husband and the weight of what we had just lost.

I felt broken.   I felt numb.  I felt confused.  I felt devastated.  I felt angry.  I felt afraid.  I felt hurt. I felt heartbroken.  I felt alone.  I felt abandoned.

I’m not sure why a nurse didn’t stay with us.  Maybe they had to go shed a tear behind closed doors or maybe they just didn’t want to have to deal with the sad couple who had just lost their first baby.  I’m not sure why they didn’t have the hospital chaplain in there with us.  Talking us down from the ledge we were barely clinging to.

In that moment, left alone to sob in my hospital bed, I wanted to die.  I no longer cared that I had a husband or a mom or sisters or any other family that I knew would miss me if I was gone too.  All I could feel in that moment was the complete and sincere wish to die right along with my son.  After all, I already felt like I had died as I watched his last breath escape from his perfect lips.

These are the moments I don’t speak of.  These are the thoughts that I had locked away deep within my heart for the past 15 months.  There was a moment where if I was not safe within the confines of my hospital room, I think I would no longer be here today.  I wanted to take a few too many pain pills and simply slip away.

I’m not even sure why I’m confessing this now.  Other than the fact that I am so thankful that I didn’t choose that path.

I guess I just want you to know that if you are stumbling across this site with tear stained cheeks and fresh grief after having just been forced to say goodbye to your child all too soon, any feelings you are having are normal.  And I promise you this, it does get easier.  It won’t always feel this raw. Life is moving on all around you and I know that right now you may not understand how that is possible, but I believe that there will come a day where you will wake up and realize that you want to live the best life you can because your child cannot.

As a Christian it is hard to wrestle with these dark thoughts.  It is equally as hard to try and understand why the God that I love would allow such a horrible thing to happen in the first place.

Truthfully, I’m still struggling with my faith. To continue to believe in the goodness of a God who allowed your baby to die seems impossible somedays. But then I look at Madeline, and wonder how anyone could not believe in God when they see a perfect little baby. She wasn’t created by chance or accident. She was divinely created. Perfectly formed by something/someone far greater that myself.

All of this is simply to say, if you are struggling – hold on. If you are at a breaking point – reach out to someone around you.

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