It's been four months and four days since we held our precious Isaac and said good-bye. Four months and four days since the doctor told us that they could keep re-intubating, but it wouldn't work. Four months and four days since we made the decision told them to stop, to just let us hold him. Four months and four days from the worst and most painful day of my life...and every single day since I remember. My arms ache with emptiness, longing to feel the weight of my sweet baby boy. My heart is broken, shattered, and while at times it seems like the pieces are slowly coming back together, it's fragile and so easily falls to pieces again.
Most days I can get by, I hurt, but I can keep going. There are some days though when I feel completely raw, like today. It's like the band-aid that has been holding my heart together has been ripped off and I've scraped it against something, pulling off the scab and leaving the wound open and bleeding again.
I miss him. I miss him with all of my heart. I miss the way his tiny little fingers would grip onto mine, so small they couldn't even wrap around my finger. I miss the way he would try to suck his thumb, even though the breathing tube and feeding tube were in the way. I miss the way his ears would get folded over from how he was laying, and how resistant they were, folding back over as soon as I tried to fix them. His hands were always up by his face, and he had one finger that he loved to have sticking up and pressing against his cheek (we joked that he was going to give himself a dimple). He was feisty- you couldn't change his diaper without having to fight to keep his kicking feet out of the dirty one. Adam likes to remind me how often Isaac would wait for me to put a clean diaper under him and then start pooping again...sometimes multiple times in one changing. I miss the crazy amount of curly dark hair that he had, despite being born so early, and the way it would stick up funny in places, especially when I tried to smooth it down. I miss seeing his tiny little eyes open and look around, always closing quickly when he realized my camera was out. I miss his little personality and how you could tell so easily by his facial expressions when he was upset. He had daddy days, where only daddy could touch him and talk to him, and if mom tried, he would get upset, and he had mommy days too, when I was the only one who could touch him. I miss how, sometimes, if he was upset in the morning before we would get to the hospital, he would calm down a little once we started talking to him. I miss reading to him and telling him all about our lives. Most of all though, I miss just sitting beside him, watching him and loving him, planning for his future, and knowing that he is my son.
My heart aches for the days that I will never get to have. I only got to hold him once other than the day that he died, and it was only for a couple minutes. I long to hold him, to feed him and change his diapers. I want to be that exhausted and weary momma who finds joy in her baby, despite the to do list that never gets done and the lack of sleep from being up with him through out the night. I want to watch as he learns to hold his head up and roll over, as he tries to crawl, and eventually starts taking his first steps. I want to see him learn to play and be friends with his cousin, Everett. I want to hold his hand and walk him to his classroom on his first day of school, making sure that he knows I love him and will be right there waiting for him when the day is over. I want to see him develop interest- sports, music, reading, drama, art...anything he wants! I want to struggle to figure out his math homework so that I can help him (who am I kidding...math is Adam's job, my help would probably do more harm than good). I want to watch him grow from a little boy into a teenager and then into a loving man of God, like his daddy. I want to see him graduate from high school and help him move into his college dorm room. I want to watch my son grow up, but I don't get to do that.
I hurt so much, and I while a part of me want to rely on God, wants to trust and hope in Him, a part of me is still frustrated and angry with Him too. I don't understand why He took Isaac away, and a part of me never wants to because I feel like if I do understand why, if I do see good come from losing him, it will seem as if it's okay that he's gone, and to me, it will never be okay. No reason will ever be good enough for losing him. At times I wonder if God took Isaac because He knew that my love for my son is greater than my love for Him. I find myself doubting His goodness and wondering if He'll keep me from ever having kids because He knows how important it is to me to have a family and He wants me to love Him more than I would them. I don't want to think that way because then my view of God is so wrong, it makes Him seem cruel, vengeful, and selfish, not like the God who has pulled me out of some really rough spots and completely turned my life around. I know that He is jealous for me, for my heart, but not in a way that He would take away my son because of it. I find myself constantly hitting this wall- I want to serve the Lord, I want to run to Him with my heartache, but I can't because I'm angry and bitter, and I feel betrayed by Him, and I don't know how to change that. I find that my constant prayer is, "Father, You know my heart. You know that I want to turn to You, but that at the same time, I don't want to. You know that I'm afraid running to You would make it feel like losing Isaac is okay. You know that I'm bitter and angry towards You. You know that I'm afraid to change my heart, and that I'm not sure I even know how. If my heart is going to change, if the bitterness is going to stop, I need You to change it for me because I'm scared to, and because I'm selfish and want to harbor my anger against You in retaliation. I'm afraid to change because I'm afraid You'll let me be hurt again."
I feel empty, and I know that only God can heal my brokenness, but it is so hard to let Him in right now.
