Grieving without Faith

I wouldn't say I'm a terribly religious person.  I don't go to church.  We don't go to church, never really have.  It just isn't an environment I am completely comfortable in or that I think is necessary to have a relationship with God.  I do not believe He only hears you in those 4 walls.  And I've just never been one to preach.

When my water broke with Matthew and I didn't go into labor immediately, I could feel my faith growing.  I could feel a relationship with God getting stronger.  I was so incredibly grateful for the time we were being given.  I was so thrilled about the ability to continue to feel our little man inside my belly.  When he was born, alive, kicking, crying, breathing at 33 weeks so big and so strong, I knew it was because of God.  It was an absolute miracle.

When Matthew wasn't breathing, I pleaded, I begged, I prayed harder than I had ever prayed before.  Over and over, please just fix him, please just let him breath, please save him.  Over and over again.  I could feel tears streaming down my face and I was just so fixated on praying and pleading.  I held Kaitlyn tightly in the living room and I watched into the office, pleading and begging while she asked me what was wrong.  I wanted so badly to tell her, nothing, we just had a scare.

By the end of that week, I wasn't angry at God for not giving him back to us, but I was so frustrated that my prayers weren't answered.  At least not in the way I wanted.  I didn't get my way.  I didn't get my baby back. I didn't get to bring my baby boy home to grow up and play with.  But, I did get him.  I did get my miracle.  I did get kisses and hugs and diaper changes and nursing.

The thought that he isn't going to ever join us for Easter, Christmas, for hugs, belly laughs and tickle sessions feels like an elephant standing on your chest while you try to breath.  It's overwhelming and painful to say the least.  But, I take solace in knowing that one day, we will be reunited.   One day, our entire family will be complete again.  One day I will hold him again, I will tell him how much I love him and how much I've missed him.  I look forward to that day.  The first day of eternity.  The day when we get to be together again.  And while I want decades after decades here with my family, I look forward to eternity.

I also find comfort in knowing that he is being held and played with by grandparents, great grandparents, family and friends that have gone before us and who I do not doubt loved him and love on him.  I believe that he is running and playing with other angel babies and angel kids whose parents had to say good-bye to them far too soon.  And they are watching over us and waiting for when we are together again.

While the pain of losing a child is enough to make you want to throw up around the clock, the pain of mourning that loss without the comfort of believing in a Heaven and a God just seems to much to handle and leaves me feeling so blessed to have my faith.