Update

It's been a while since I have posted.  Partially because we have been so busy- moving across the country and getting settled, starting a new job, renovating our first home... and partially because my heart just hasn't been into picture-taking, memory creating mode.  But it's getting better.  We have just passed the six month mark of having lost William, and I feel ready to share a few thoughts I have been trying to put into words recently.  I have never been wonderful at expressing how I feel, but hope that I can share a little bit of my journey through this experience.

It has been hard.  Desperately hard.  The last time I wrote about William, I know I said this,  how hard it was.  And I also tried to lighten what I was feeling by expressing hope, and peace.  Those things were felt in moments.  But those moments were small.  So I faced this dilemma of how to write about my feelings as I struggled with them more than I had thought possible.  I didn't want to create an uncomfortable situation for those who wondered and worried about us.  But now, as I have hopefully crossed the mountain of this trial of faith and have started down the other side, I wonder if I did the right thing.  Because the truth is, I have struggled.  I know Joey has struggled.  We have had to fight to keep a hold on our faith and adjust our understanding of how our Heavenly Father and His plan for us and our relationship with him all work.  We have learned that sometimes having Faith is a decision you have to make- to hold on to what you have once believed to be true, despite a painful situation that makes you question everything.  To just hold on and try to weather the storm.

Because it was this moment that I thought I was prepared for.  I had of course considered the outcomes of this pregnancy, and I thought my faith could handle it.  But when it came right down to it, and we had so many friends and family praying for us, and I had received blessings for me and for the baby, and I KNEW in my heart that our Heavenly Father could heal me.  He could heal me and our son.  But then he didn't.  And I felt betrayed.  I felt like I have spent my life trying to be obedient, and I had this righteous desire to grow our family and welcome this sweet boy into our home, and I was thrown into this fire of the worst pain I had ever felt.  I wondered where God was, and I was angry.  The part of me that hurt and doubted was at war with this part of me that knew all of these things- that being righteous doesn't mean we will escape pain, and that God loves us and had given us so many blessings along the way.  And so as I was angry and hurt and betrayed I was also feeling such guilt at my struggle.  Because shouldn't I have enough faith to NOT struggle?  Shouldn't I be able to accept God's will and feel sorrow at losing William, but have peace and faith enough to not let it rock my world?

After months of considering this, I have come to a few conclusions.  It is okay that this incredible trial has rocked my world.  It is okay that it caused me to doubt, to question, to be angry.  This was a TRIAL.  It was a hard, monumental, TRIAL.  Would it have been a trial if I had been able to breeze through it? To say "this hurts, but it's okay"? Sure. I would love to be at that point.  Where nothing that comes my way could ever sway me.  But it's okay that I'm not yet.

I don't think many of us are.  And I think it's unfortunate that we feel sometimes like we have to pretend that we are okay when we really, truly aren't.  That we have to put on a face that says we are not struggling spiritually because we are afraid to be judged by others, or because we feel guilty about how we are struggling.  It's handicapping to not feel able to reach out and get others support.  Which is especially sad because the more I look around the more I see that everyone has hard stuff.  Really hard.  And most of us reach that trial that rocks us to the core.  When we have to decide to hang on or let go.  And wouldn't it be great for someone else who has been there to reach out and to say "Hey.  I GET IT."  Those simple words would make such a difference in those moments.

I know that they have made a huge difference for me.  I have just recently been so touched to hear and read experiences of a few people who have faced their own terrible struggles, and have come through stronger.  And it has been amazing the healing I have felt to see where they are now, and to know that they have been through the same struggles feeling anger, betrayal, depression, guilt, questioning and pain.  To know that other people who I respect so much truly "Get it."

And so this is mostly what I wanted to say.  That these months since Williams death have been HARD.  SO HARD.  To be honest and say I have really struggled.  It hurts to miss my baby so deeply.  To have my arms honestly ache for my son and have nothing that can really take that pain away.  To have this trial that has tried my faith in many ways.  But to say that I am okay.  It is getting better.  And to let anyone else who is struggling to know that it is okay to struggle.  We are meant to struggle.  It is nothing to be ashamed of.  I GET it.  And it does get better.  It takes some serious work sometimes.  But it does get better.

As we moved in we planted some flowers on our front porch.  It was the middle of a hot summer and they quickly wilted.  The flowers fell off and the stems turned brown, and I was sure they were beyond saving.  Out of sheer frustration at the amount of time and money I had put into these flowers, I continued to water them, although with little hope.  Much to my surprise these apparently dead plants began to grow new petals, that were even more beautiful and much heartier than the ones before.  Those flowers have been on my mind a lot.  And I think that they are a perfect example of this trial... of trials in general.  That sometimes we feel like we have been hurt in a way we just can't come back from.  But as we do those things we have proven in the past, even if it seems beyond hope at the time, we will grow from the experience and come back stronger than we thought possible.  That is my hope.  That those areas that have become shriveled and wilted will over time become stronger.  And I think that over time they will.  I have chosen not to give up.  I have chosen to hold to those things that I believe to be true and to fight for my faith, even as parts of it have needed to be examined and pruned.  But I also hope that I will no longer be ashamed of those wilted parts.  That I can share my struggle, and that my honesty can help others in the same way that the honesty of others has been a comfort to me.  Because that is what this life is about.