My sweet little boy would have been 5 weeks old today. I realize I can't go on counting the weeks forever, but I feel like I will...even if only in my head and heart.
A lot of thoughts are rambling around my brain right now. I still continue to be in shock. I have no idea how 5 weeks can seem like eternity and yet it has flown by. I cannot tell you how thankful I was to see Valentine's Day stuff in the Exchange today. Time, thankfully, marches on.
Unfortunately, all those who tell me that time doesn't make it better but helps lessen the intensity must have a different time schedule than I do because the sting is still here...and it is still intense. Still seems so fresh, so raw. I literally can smell the hospital room. I can feel them lifting me off the hospital bed and onto the operating table. I can count every single hair on the back of Matthew's head as the nurses whisk him away--that's how close to the surface of my mind the events of the last 5 weeks are.
We have just continued to be enveloped in people praying for us and loving us...asking questions of God that puzzle them and they expect would puzzle us as well. Why? Why us? What's the purpose? What are we supposed to learn? Friends and family, and even complete strangers who instantly become friends and family tell me they don't understand--they are hurt, and hurt for us. They are mad and mad for us. They, and we, continue to remain just numb.
The thing is...I think the thing I am most is disappointed. I'm not questioning God--He's God and I'm not. But, I would be completely and totally hypocritical if I did not admit that I am disappointed in God. I know this is awful. I know this is not fair for me to feel in light of the many, many blessings that God has given me.
But it's where my heart is. I am disappointed...I have tried to live my life the way I thought God wanted. I have tried to be a good family member, a good friend and a good Christian. I have claimed God as my Lord and Christ as my Savior. I publicly and privately give Him thanks for all my blessings. I constantly try to follow What Would Jesus Do mentality and I have tried, to the best of my human ability, to be faithful and to maintain hope and faith even when it's been hard. Hard--ha ha...that word makes me laugh. I never knew what hard was until I was forced to deal with losing Matthew. Let me say right now, there are LOTS of us who don't know what the word hard really means.
I'm disappointed because in light of all that I've done...the way I have tried to live my life has been to glorify God...and yet--I'm being tested in a most torturous way. I'm disappointed because I thought I was living the way I should live and would be the recipient of the good that God says He gives to those who love the Lord. And I feel like I've been let down.
Which also makes me feel disappointed in myself for being so audacious to be disappointed in God. Who am I?
I'm also angry, but not for the reasons one might think. I'm angry because I feel like this is all a test for me...I made a promise and God called me on it. My anger is because if this is MY test, it should NOT hurt so many others so. No one else made my promise. No one else deserves this torment so that I can come out of it where God wants me to be. Most of all, John does not deserve this. He does not deserve to suffer this hell because God's working in my heart and on my faith. I'm angry because my test should be my suffering...certainly not John's and DEFINITELY not Matthew's.
I realize I will incur messages that will tell me Matthew did not suffer or that he's in a better place or question who I think I am to have input into how God decides to use each of us for His plans and I probably deserve those messages. It doesn't change how I feel, though, and I guess this is all part of the process I'm in. Like I said, I have all sorts of things rambling through my head.
I just know that if this is my test, there's no reason that John had to endure the torture he did in watching the dozens of people work on Matthew, seeing his precious newborn son be poked and prodded...hold his dying son as his heart beat for the last time. Those are things that I have the luxury of NOT facing because I can choose to NOT look at the pictures; I couldn't have been there at Georgetown as Matthew died if I tried (which I did, by the way). Those memories that John will have to deal with forever are ones he should never have--and I'm angry that he's suffering so much.
I'm sure the mood of this post shows this was a hard day for both of us and it was. But you know what? Every day is a hard day. Every day I look in the mirror and think, "Whew...must have been a rough day because I look like I just survived the Holocaust." Every day. I don't think I will ever look like myself again.
And I won't. I'm not the person I used to be. The person I am now is defeated and grieving. The person I am now is absolutely and forever will be devastated that I have clothes my child will never wear, arms that will always ache to hold him, and is trying with every breath I take to muster hope for a larger family--though there will always be one missing in every family dinner, vacation and picture. And I look like it.
That's what 5 weeks of having a hole in your heart looks like. I can't imagine what toll a lifetime with that hole will take.