I am not a writer. I have never journaled. Somehow, I feel led to do this. To share my most vulnerable moments. So please be forgiving and give this little spot much grace.
Where to begin? My baby died. Three words that changed everything. Three words that make me feel like I have the plague. When I see my friends or even virtual strangers that have heard of our sad news, I feel like a leaper. I know it is not intentional. What do say to a women who buried her child? So it is awkward and sad. Terribly, horribly sad.
My son was born on February 20, 2013 at 22 weeks and 2 days old. He lived a few hours and God took our sweet angel home. It was the best and worst day of my life. The day I held my sweet baby for the first time. The day my heart broke into a million tiny shards. I will never forget that day.
Part of me feels like this is a nightmare and I just haven't woke up yet. This cannot be happening. We prayed for this baby. For years! We were so excited and truly believed he was our miracle. I feel robbed. I feel like God left me. I know he didn't. But I am angry at him and disappointed. And I feel like he can handle my feelings. He knows what it's like to lose a son.
One thing I have realized in this haze of grief is that I am not alone. My purpose for this blog is to make sure other women do not feel alone. This is an ugly loss. It is a pain that I fear is here to stay for awhile. So join me in prayer for the broken hearted. Join me in whatever circumstances you are currently in and walk it out. Have faith in the God of the universe..even still.
