Silly? Maybe. But it's mine.

It seems silly. I have three beautiful children. They bring me so much joy and fulfillment. They also make me seriously crazy at least once every day. I love them. I marvel at their growth and development. I am blessed to experience their lives with them when so many others don't have babies. I know how blessed I am.
I have a wonderful husband. He loves me and supports me, even when he doesn't like what I choose. He is devoted to me and to our family. So many women don't have that.
So why is it, with all this goodness in my life, that I just can't get over the one blessing that the Lord didn't let me keep? I can go days, even weeks with barely a thought of the little hands and feet, the little person that was mine. Then, all of a sudden, with horrible intensity, he comes rushing into my mind and my heart and I can barely breathe.
I've processed this so many times and always feel like I have sufficiently healed but every time it hits, I am back in that same place, staring at my dead baby. A tiny, beautiful body, an image that I can never erase. Why did it happen? Why did I fail? Why do I still feel like I was at fault when doctors and therapists have reassured me time and again that there was nothing I could have done to prevent it from happening? The guilt is just as real and just as strong today as it was that morning in the emergency room.
I believe that we are supposed to learn while we are on this earth. That's why we are here. I've many valuable educational experiences throughout my life and have seen how they were necessary for myself or to help others that I've loved and cared for. This situation though, it just doesn't make sense. I don't know what I could possibly get out of it but pain and shame. Maybe it has made me more compassionate toward others. Maybe.
Mostly though, it has just made me acutely aware of how little I am in control of. My baby died and the world kept right on turning. What exactly am I supposed to learn from this? And why haven't I learned it already? It has been nearly three years. I'm ready for an explanation but I know better than to rush God or make demands of Him.
I know that there are a million and more people out there with all kinds of worse situations than I could ever imagine. I get that. I'm not trying to say that what I am going through is the ultimate in pain. I know it isn't. I only know that it hurts. It hurts a lot. People say that time heals. I think it is more accurate to say that time dulls. The pain is still there but with all of the other things in my life, good and bad, I don't have as much time to think about what was lost. Not as much time to sit and try to make sense of it.
I've had another baby since then. She is healthy and perfect. I should be focusing on her and loving the happy moments I have with her. I try to. I really do. And yet, so often that I hate to admit it, I have to wonder.. Why him and not her? I just don't understand.
Yes, I have many things to be happy about and grateful for. I am so very aware of that. It does not stop me from wanting my angel baby back. It only makes me wish even more that he were here sharing this beautiful life with us, the missing piece to our family puzzle.
The only conclusion that I can come to is this: If I were to heal completely and get over this pain, it might cause me to forget him. That possibility is so horrible that I find myself welcoming the pain as long as I am allowed to remember that for a moment, he was mine.

Lilly's Quest for Love

This one is a bit silly and mushy and definitely not what I normally write, but this was what came to me, so here it is. Feels good to be at it again! Thank you Bethany for the motivation!

        Lilly wanted only one thing out of life; to be loved. She looked for love around every corner and as many beds. Lilly needed comfort; didn’t that come with love? Why was she incapable of finding the one thing that would make her life complete and worthwhile. The one thing that would make all the effort worth it.
Lilly tried. She gave it all she had. Her face was pinched and pulled and coated with creams and potions. Her hair, her skin, all artfully colored and shaped so as to attract the desire of her heart.
Lilly aged. Time went by and still she was alone. How much more could she do? She pleaded with the stars. She pleaded with men. All she wanted was a heart in return. Devotion as strong as her own.
Lilly cried. Her nights ended in meaningless engagements. The morning always began with remorse. Her cup of hope ran empty. There was no more skin to pull. No potion to apply. Time had caught up with her and left her empty.
Lilly gave in to the sadness. She closed the door to her heart and sealed forever the fate life for her had chosen. Would that she could have seen that even at its most dark and dismal, life can reignite fire, a flame unexpected. Life can change its mind and the winds of fate can shift.
Lilly gave into the dark. Hidden away in her lonely but comfortable prison, she would never know the one that the stars, the very heavens had prepared for her and her alone. Were she to walk again the trails and byways of the park and wood near her home, fate would have kindly, lovingly guided her into the path of one so affectionate, so confidential in his feelings of loyalty. The one, the very one who would make her heart complete, whose ardor and zeal would overwhelm her girlhood fantasies and make real all ever she hoped to enjoy. Late? Yes, fate took its time and tested Lilly’s resolve as it often does with wide eyed, hopeful humans. At last though, destiny had arrived, waiting with childlike anticipation but steps from Lilly’s front door.
Awake Lilly! Go and find your fortune! Take one last chance on hope. All is not over. Life is not done! Awake Lilly! Discard the silly adornments, the false embellishments. Be you and only you. Lift your body, lift your heart and your mind. Open yourself to love! Not in the reckless manner of yesterday, allowing all and any to enter, only to take and leave nothing but ashes. Open your heart to faith and optimism. Are you yet in your grave?
No Lilly! Life holds something more for you still. Your patience has been tested, your lessons have been cruelly learned. Much has been taken and even more you have given. But now, Lilly! Now is your time! Open that door! Step into the sunlight and see what gift awaits. There is reason yet to believe!
Lilly gave herself up to one last try, determined that her life would end that very night if fate chose to victimize her yet again. With all the power in her being, she embraced her old friend, her life long companion, hope. She held on and let herself be guided down the cobblestone path.
Past the young mothers with children at play. Past the old men with their chess pieces played. The dogs barked and the birds sang and as Lilly crossed the small stone bridge that many times had felt her step, a hand was offered to help her cross.
A warm, slightly wrinkled, but strong and perfectly lovely hand. Lilly looked up and into eyes so blue, so deep. In them she saw her own reflection and knew this soul had felt all the pain, frustration and longing as had her own.
Lilly knew it would not be perfect. She had grown far too sensible in her middle years to believe in fairy tales and happily ever after. She knew there would be trials yet and hardships to overcome. More important than that though, was the knowledge that here before her, with his gentle grip on her arm, stood the one that would walk with her through whatever else life had left to give.
Lilly smiled. The walls of her fortress came down and she knew at a glance that this one returned her own deep and abiding feelings. Her aged skin, having lost the glow of youth so long ago, her graying hair and sagging figure; none of these concerned her now. None of the attempts she had made in the past to be a desirable flower had left her with anything but regret and shame. In the eyes of the one, Lilly knew that not one of those things mattered. Love had found her. Love was here and would walk beside her until their time was through.
Lilly’s road had been long and often perilous, but at the end, as a reward for undying hope, her long journey was rewarded.
He wasn’t perfect and neither was she, but in the grasp of their weathered hands, perfection could only feel envy.