angel

I haven't blogged in a while, not that I didn't want to, but I didn't have words. Or, I had so many words. I wasn't sure what to share or where to begin. The holiday season has me overwhelmed. I'm overwhelmed by grief, by to do lists, by events, by my children's joy and excitement, and by the expectation that I should be happy, grateful, and reflective. I miss Mila. Everything, and I mean everything, reminds me of her, reminds me that she's not here. The bottle brush I use to clean my Nalgene bottle, the lanolin I put on my chapped lips, the car, the closet, the sky, the snow, the kitchen chairs, everything. I haven't pulled out all of my Christmas decorations. I'm too tired, and I don't really care. Mostly, I'm afraid to dig through all the bags and boxes. What if I discover an ornament or keepsake bought last year for the baby? God, my heart is heavy. I didn't want to decorate the tree, but I did. It was a joyful experience with Charlie and Sofie. We looked at all of their ornaments and talked about where they came from. It brought back a lot of wonderful memories of life before Mila, before our baby died. We bought a picture frame ornament for Mila's picture with her name engraved. I then placed angel ornaments all around my sweet baby. Last week we made Mila Cookies, sugar cookies in the shape of an angel, with pink and silver sprinkles. This will be a yearly tradition at our house.

I didn't want it to happen, but I think this experience is turning me into a Christian. Yes, I already was one, but now I think I'm so desperate for comfort, for miracles, and for grace, that I am turning to God, and to Jesus. I really just wanted to hate those guys, to turn my back on religion and faith. Praying that my baby be born safe, alive, and healthy didn't work this time and I'm really pissed. But like I said, I ache with sorrow and I don't think there are enough hugs on earth to make me feel better. So, I am turning upward. I am starting to believe in angels, that Mila is an angel, and that if I am spiritually tuned in, maybe I'll see her. I just want to see her. I asked Chris the other day if he's ever had a dream about Mila. He said he hadn't, but that he wishes he would. I prayed that day that Mila would visit him in a dream. A few days later, she did.

Maybe it's because after a child dies, bereaved parents and family members are thrown into this world of support groups, prayer chains, and memorials, but I've been given many opportunities to worship, to sing, and to pray for God's comfort, healing, and grace. I've heard Bible verses that are undeniably helpful. I've wept hearing them, wondering if God really does know how devastated I feel. None of this is what I expected or wanted, but it's happening. I am now craving inspiration, divine wisdom and guidance. People told me that this experience would change me and it has. It is stripping me of everything I thought I had, of my protective layer of nice, easy going, and considerate. I feel shoved into a world I didn't want to live in, and here I am.