The Truth

Am I faithless because I have a bad day? I try to convince myself that it's normal for a mom in my situation to feel this way, but I always end up feeling guilty for having a sad day. Like I don't believe enough or that people will judge me for not having enough faith. Today a friend of mine sent me a link to a blog of a mother in a similar situation. This mom is real and brutally honest and she said it perfectly, "I’ve heard it said of other mamas who have lost babies: Every conversation steers itself towards The Baby. It’s getting … tiresome. She really needs to move on. It’s not healthy." Perhaps you may be tired of hearing of my thoughts and feelings about our situation. But, this mother inspired me and I have decided I have to be real in this post . . . I just have to get it out. I try to always keep a positive attitude - I try to focus on hope and peace. I try to find these things because I KNOW there is peace and hope in our situation. We have every reason to be hopeful; however, I can't resist or supress my sadness at times. Hope doesn't fill a mother's aching arms. I feel like my work as a mother is unfinished. Jason told me the other night that he feels cheated. All I want to do is hold my Baby Gavin in my arms, kiss him and tell him, "I love you, I love you, I love you and I’m so proud to be your mama. I miss you so much."


After months of keeping his bedroom door closed, we moved Gavin's things from his room. What mother has to do this? My mom came over to help me pack his belongings while Jason and my dad moved the furniture. What grandparent has to do this? What father has to pack up a crib that his son never slept in? It was only appropriate that my mother was there to go through Gavin's things with me. She has been through every single day with me - she knows everything. Jason's brother Brent built a beautiful chest for Gavin's few belongings and as we packed the chest I felt sadness, despair, aniexty, fear, hoplessness . . . but I also felt a renewed sense of joy. Such conflicting emotions are confusing.

Jason and I often discuss this question, "Which day was more difficult . . . the day he was born, or the day he died?" Many of you may think this is an awful question to ask, but having been through such an intense, heart wrenching three months with him here, and now a lonely and desperate three months without him here . . . we can validate our thoughts on this question. Without a doubt we both say that the day he was born was more difficult. The day he was born I felt sorrow for myself, Jason and especially Gavin. Would he live? How different would be be? Would his life be painful? Would he have a life? The day Gavin left us I also felt tremendous sorrow for myself and Jason; however, I felt the most intense amount of joy for Gavin. I knew he would be happy. I knew he would be able to function. I knew there was work for him to do there that he would have never been able to do here. I didn't have one ounce of sorrow for Gavin. I am proud to be Gavin's mother - I am a lucky mother. And I tell Gavin that all of the time. Now, despite the moments of the heaviest sadness I’ve ever felt, there is love - more love than I’ve ever felt. Love for Gavin - love for my family - love for people I come in contact with - and more than ever, a love for my Savior.

I find peace in the knowledge of a merciful God. There are times I find myself angry with God, asking why He would take away my son. And then I remember His mercy. He gave me three months to be with my son and to KNOW my son, who in all reality never should have lived that long. In the midst of the anger, sadness and pain that accompanies every day, I choose to find peace. I choose to find hope and I choose to have faith. So there it is . . . the truth of my feelings. Some days are good and some days aren't. The emotions are mixed, the pain is real and the joy is real.