My Dear Andrea,
Five years ago today your dad and I were preparing to meet you and Nick. I was 32 weeks pregnant and went to the hospital to have a routine test just to make sure you two were alright. Well, you weren't alright. The nurses searched and searched for your heartbeat while I was lying in a bed. They didn't tell me that they couldn't find you. I was sent down for an ultra sound so they could look at you to see what was going on. They looked at you and Nick for a few minutes and wheeled me back upstairs to a room. By this time I knew something was wrong but no one told me anything.
I decided to call your dad who was at work and tell him to come get me, but I didn't know what else to tell him. While I was one the phone with him a nurse came in and told us that you weren't alive any more.
I felt guilty because I was over-whelmed at the thought of taking care of two babies at the same time. I felt like a failure because I am mom and I'm supposed to take care of you and protect you and you died inside of me. I felt like I had let your dad down. I was angry at myself for letting this happen. I was angry at the nurses and doctor for not telling me they thought something was wrong right away.
It's funny though, I don't remember ever being mad at God. It seems like I should have been. Dad and I really didn't go to church very much then. We would have told people we were Christians, we tried to live like we were good but we didn't go to church or pray or read our Bibles. I kind of felt God wrap His arms around me that day. I just remember asking God to take care of my little girl. I knew you would be far better off in Heaven than with me. That you would never know sickness or heartbreak. That you would know God in a much more intimate way than any one here on Earth would.
We grieved of course. All of the comfort of you being in Heaven didn't stop us from missing you. It didn't stop the ache of a missing person in our family. It didn't stop us from wondering what life would have been like if you would have been here. I don't think the comfort of you being in Heaven is supposed to replace grief. I think God gave us the ability to grieve as part of a healing process. We are not supposed to act like loss has never happened and we are not supposed to stop living our lives as a result of loss.
I don't know why God chose to take you when He did. The old saying "everything happens for a reason" is hardly a comfort to someone who has lost a loved one. Having faith is believing in something you can't see. Every day I wake up I choose to believe that God knows what is best for me-even if it means the loss of someone I love. I choose to believe that God is in control no matter what. I choose to put my faith in God. I choose to believe that a Being who can be understood is not big enough to be worshiped. I don't want to worship a god who can be understood, that would put the "god" at the same level as me and defeat the purpose of worshiping him (or her)
My sweet daughter, every July 23rd is hard on me. I am pregnant with your brother right now and he is about the same age as you were when you died. I have to admit that it's a little scary. I praise God every time I feel Levi move inside of me and I get a little scared when he hasn't moved in a while. But if I chose to believe God was in control of your short life and death then I have no choice but to choose to believe God is in control of Levi- no matter what happens. I do willingly choose to believe that God is in control.
My dear, I miss you and I wonder what it would be like to brush your hair and paint your toenails and go to little girl tea parties with you and I will when I get to meet you in Heaven some day. Until then my sweet, I will trust God to take care of you, I will trust that you will hold the hands of other little ones whose lives seemed to short. And I will trust in God's infinite understanding.
I love you.