11-14-07 Remembering the pain.

Tonight I allowed myself to remember. I allowed myself to block out all the other precious, cherished children who’ve stepped through the veil from this world to the next and thought only about our son. I let myself relive our time with Silas when his life was precariously balanced between heaven and earth. When we had no clue what God’s plan was for our son or ourselves. I haven’t done this in a very long time, mostly because I am so grateful to have my child and I feel guilty when I allow myself to feel pain about any of what we went through; and partly because I feel ashamed for feeling resentful about what we missed with our son when there are so many parents who aren’t even able to kiss their precious babes goodnight. But tonight I can’t hold back the pain. Maybe it’s the holidays, maybe it’s because I know I will never have another child that I can have a “normal” birth and infancy with, maybe I’m just tired; I don’t know.

I just know that tonight I am overwhelmed with the memories of the trauma of watching Silas dying… and all the tubes and machines… no one able to tell us more than, “We’ll see how he’s doing tomorrow.” I reread a few posts from when we were up at Legacy and I sounded so strong, but it’s like that was a different person. I remember feeling like the world was falling down all around me and I was being crushed from the weight of it all. And yet, I was wrapped in Jesus arms, along with my husband and the rest of our family and I knew that either way, I would accept God’s decision. And then we got to go home. I was TERRIFIED that some one would come running after us yelling, “Wait! There’s been a mistake! You can’t take him! He belongs with us!” And the nightmares… both Silas’ and mine. The nightmare that still haunts me where, to save his life, Silas’ head had been surgically severed and I had to make sure that he was perfectly still so that all the veins and arteries would line up and he’d stay alive… then I’d bump him and blood would be everywhere and I was responsible for his death. Oh, the nightmares…

And how it has affected my kids… Savannah has said, “I hope that, when I have babies, they live.” And Jerusha said, “I’m scared,” when I told her my sister is pregnant again. They are 10 and 6!!! Even Micah who’s 13 says things like, “I just can’t think about it. It makes me feel sick,” when we talk about how far Silas has come. And I can’t even imagine the horror Silas felt being taken from the safety of the womb to sheer hell in his mind. I long for the innocence back. I wonder that I went merrily through my life never really knowing that bad things happen to babies. I mean, I knew in my head, but I never really knew in my heart. It is just so terribly wrong for babies to be that ill when they are born; or ever for that matter.

I am heartbroken that Silas no longer nurses. I nursed my third until she was 21 months and I had fully planned on about 2 years with Silas. He was barely a year when he quit and, at any rate, it had been a constant struggle up to that point.

So many things that I grieve... but God had/has a plan. And in His great plan, he allowed this trial in our lives and He is using it to make me into a stronger, more compassionate person. He is showing me that I need to appreciate so much that I’d taken for granted. Children are a gift from Him, not a “right” of ours. They are created, at His pleasure, for eternity. *When* He takes them from this world to the next is irrelevant. Whether a person is a few days old or 95 years, we are designed and destined for eternal life. The trials we face on earth give us the opportunity to grow in our understanding of Christ and to become more like him. THIS – here and now; our time on earth – is the time that is a small blip on the screen of eternity. THIS is the temporary place. Heaven awaits us to fill all our senses with all consuming joy and peace. God awaits our return to His arms with more anticipation than *we* do. With all that being said, thank-you Father, for taking me through the firestorm of Silas’ traumatic birth and infancy. Thank you for allowing us to go through all the trials. Thank you for allowing all the pain. Thank you for allowing the uncertainty. I thank you because I choose to praise You in all circumstances, not just when things are going well. If I’m having a great, easy time or if I feel life couldn’t possibly get any more painful, it does not change who You are. You are the Creator of all life and You love me more than I can even love my children. You are amazing, Lord.