Unfixable

I have to share some things that are going to make some people uncomfortable. I'm okay with that, but I know it's not going to be easy to read because you might want to try to fix me.

You can't. You can't "fix" these feelings. You can't pray them away. You can't tell me to "just trust God" and go on with your day.

Well, I guess you can.

But I can't.

I am not in a good place. I am not okay. I don't even want to be okay at this point. I tell Jamey almost every night that I want to go back to the hospital. I want to lay in that bed. I want to kiss and cuddle my son. I want to stroke his cheeks. I don't care if they're cold. I don't care if he'll never open his eyes again. I just want to go back there and rock him in my arms.

I took pictures of the bruises on my arms and hands from being in the hospital. There are so few memories of my son, that I didn't even want to forget that part. My blood pressure was so high during my stay that they tried multiple IV lines and all of them blew out. The bruises are almost all faded now, and I grieve that they're gone too. My incision is healing well after finishing a week of antibiotics. Soon my body will be devoid of any physical sign that Gabriel lived. I know that's probably an odd thing to grieve.

I am so angry. Angry that all of this has happened. Again. I have a friend who lost twin daughters and then a son to a syndrome similar to Sam and Gabriel's. She had a word that perfectly sums up how I feel about now.

Forsaken. 

When I read that word in her book, I bawled. Yes. I feel that. Forsaken. Abandoned. Punished. Unloved. Unworthy.

And let me just tell you something. I don't feel these things because I lack faith. I'm not mad at God because I have an awful relationship with Him. I don't think He wants me to hurt or that He caused this to happen.

But He could have saved my boys. He could have. I'm so angry He didn't. I'm going to have to work through that with God, and I'm going to need time to do it. This isn't a quick fix, and there is no band-aid big enough to patch this damage. This cut is so deep it's going to take some major reconstructive surgery.

One of my favorite songs has always been Casting Crowns' "Praise You In This Storm." I can't do that right now. I don't want to do that right now.

And that is okay. 

I've got to continue putting words to these feelings. I want a wonderful, beautiful, faithful, trusting relationship with God. The fact that I want that tells me that I haven't lost my faith. I haven't given up.

I've just given up on the idea that God's plan won't hurt me. We all know we aren't guaranteed an easy or pain-free life when we trust in Jesus, but in some way we all kind of think it won't hurt as bad. It won't be as awful. Heck, I had even thought after Sam died that we had some kind of "free pass" where at least we wouldn't hurt that bad again. He wouldn't leave us broken like this. Again.

Here we are.

As my friends and family, you have two choices. You can type in some words of encouragement, tell me just trust in God, and go about your business.

Or, you can tell me you love me. You're here for me. You can be a safe place to come to with the awful thoughts and feelings that run through my head. You don't understand how I feel but you're here.

I love and appreciate all who have been on this journey with us. I know that every single person who comments and prays wants the very best for us. Everyone has the best intentions. But when I'm feeling those uncomfortable feelings...let me share them. Tell me it's okay to not be okay. Love me even when it's hard to love me or what I say. I will do the very same for you if and when the time comes, I promise.

Today I feel like I have no love to give. I feel drained. I watched my baby celebrate her 5th birthday with all our friends and family on Saturday, and in the middle of it she said, "Gabriel died and is in heaven, but I didn't die." My sweet baby says things like that now. It's okay for her to say it, and we encourage her to share because she's processing too. It just breaks me even more.

This journey isn't all beautiful. It isn't even close to perfect. And I'm okay with that.

If you want to help "fix" this, just listen. Listen more than once. Read. Read again.

Remind me I'm not alone. <3


Photo by Jachan DeVol on Unsplash