Loss and hope

A friend that I haven't seen in a really long time came over for a visit today with her three boys.

Our kids had fun terrorizing each other and making a mess. And as mothers - we were constantly refereeing the mayhem.

In between the yelling and the playing, my friend asked me about my pregnancy. Questions about how I was feeling and what it was like to be pregnant again so soon after losing Sawyer.

Everytime a question came up, one of our children were about to hurl themselves off a chair or decided that the toy somebody else had was worth beating each other up over.

Amidst our shouts of discipline, I didn't really get a chance to answer...

But the thing is, she asked me things that no one ever asks - questions that I think a lot of people are afraid to ask.

But, at that moment, it meant the world to me that someone was acknowledging my pain, my loss - and my hope.

The long nights, sad days

Dear Sawyer

I totally screwed up today. I let someone get the best of me. I let my overwhelming grief and yearning for you result in an angry tirade.

I never meant to hurt anyone. I was just upset that another mother could ever hate her beautiful child.

I think about you alone in your coffin. I know it is just your body but I worry about the winter. I worry about how cold it will get and if you'll be warm enough. The urge to hold you in my arms and just for one second look into your eyes will overwhelm me as long as my heart continues to beat.

And yet, others get to hate. How is any of this remotely fair?

Life is going on, I am still alive. It should have been me. Why God wasn't it me?

They say when the moment comes to ask these questions, that the answers won't matter. But, it's the waiting for that moment that is slowly eating away at my insides.

I love you. Every night I pray to you, do you hear me? I've fallen so far down the past few weeks. Looking toward your spirit for hope.

I love you.