Today is Easter Sunday. I was not looking forward to this day, for one reason or another. I just simply was not looking forward to it. It's been a rough couple of weeks. For a while there, I felt like Nathan and I were handing things well. I felt like I had a grip on life, and like I was going to be okay. And then I got angry, and sad, and life just became really, really painful. I was tired of hurting. I didn't want to be positive any more. I didn't want to do the right thing, feel the right thing, say the right thing, or care about anything.
I was angry that my little girl is going to die.
I honestly didn't want to write any blog posts, because I strive to be very honest in these, and I didn't want people to know how angry and hurt I was. I'd kept it together so well up until this point. I almost felt like I was doing something wrong by being angry (even though I know anger is a completely normal stage in the grieving process), and I didn't want to admit how utterly, miserably, angry and hurt I was.
A week after Ayden's diagnosis, Nathan's mom, Jean, gave me a CD. It's an amazing CD, by Lauren Daigle, called How Can it Be. The lyrics on every single song are incredible, the artist has an amazing voice, and it has been something that has really helped me keep my mind in check these last few months. My favorite song is track 3, a song called Trust in You. That song really spoke to me, as it talks about how God doesn't always move the mountains we ask Him to move, or part the waters for us. Essentially, it talks about trusting God even when we don't understand why we don't get the miracles we are praying for. There's also a line in it that says "there's not a place that I go, where you have not already stood." This line meant a lot to me, as it helped remind me that there is nothing I'm going to face where God isn't already going to be. He already knows, He already has a plan, He is already there. I have listened to nothing other than this CD when I'm in my car ever since it was given to me. I also downloaded it onto my phone and my tablet, so even if I'm not in my car, I can listen to it (which I frequently do). Nathan has been a great sport about tolerating the same 12 songs over and over and over for the last two and a half months (more like 10 songs, because I always skip number 11 and 12). Well, when I started to get angry, I turned off the CD. I tried listening to the radio, but all the songs made me mad. So I just drove for a few days in silence. There was one night I was coming home from some Young Life event, and I mentally yelling at God. I let Him know how stupid I thought my situation was, how I was angry, thought it was unfair, and that I was specifically mad at Him, because He is fully capable of healing my baby girl, and there was really just no reason for me to even be in the situation I'm in. Then I told Him I still trust Him, even though I think He is being stupid, and I wasn't happy about trusting him, but I did. Then I told Him I'm not turning the CD back on yet, because the first track of the CD is a song called I Want You First, talking about putting God first, above all other things. I was also not wanting to trust him, so I didn't want to hear track number 3 either. Well, I was mad at God and want to put Ayden first, so I wasn't going to listen to the CD. But I told God I'd compromise, and listen to 88.1, the Christian radio station. It's not like God really cares that much about what I'm listening to on the radio. I'm pretty sure He didn't care that I wasn't listening to the CD. But boy, that was my way of really sticking it to Him. Gee, I showed Him, didn't I? Wow, I can be so dumb. Anyways, I turned the radio on, angrily, to hear a song none other than Trust in You, by Lauren Daigle. Track #3. Right at the part of the song that says "there's not a place that I go, that you've not already stood." I. Was. So. Irritated.
Fine God, have it your way. Remind me that you're always there, and that there is nothing I'll ever face where you won't be there. You're already on the other side of this, through your crazy time traveling whatever, knowing what I'm going to go through, ready to meet me there, and even when I'm angry and trying to avoid you, there is really nothing I can do to escape you and how much you love me. For some reason, probably due to my intense stubbornness and current state of anger, this just made me even more angry. Go humans.
After that I really tried to be less angry, but it didn't help me be less sad. Everything started resulting in a meltdown. I moved a present for someone's upcoming baby shower from my living room to the bedroom, and it resulted in a meltdown. Nathan and I have had to start putting together our birth plan, and facing hard decisions, like burial or cremation and funeral//memorial details. I had the horrific realization that each time we have a doctors appointment, it could be the last time we get to hear her little heartbeat. I have several health factors going on that all together put me at a pretty high risk for early labor. Being 32 weeks along, we really have to face the realization that any day could be the day we meet and say goodbye to our little Ayden Nicole. So. Many. Tears. I started hating specific words, like funeral, service, memorial. All of them seem cruel and not what I want for my baby girl. Nathan asked me if I had thought about cremation verses burial, and if I had a preference. I told him I hated both options. Tears. Anger. Pain.
Easter morning rolled around, and it was like most other mornings Nathan and I have off together. We slept in as much as possible (made it to 7, yay!), Nathan cooked a big breakfast while I looked online at information on infant memorial services, we ate, then cuddled up on the couch and watched a few episodes of The Office. We watched the finale, which, by the way, I think is the best finale to any show I've ever seen. Ever. All in all, it was a fairly decent morning. I had almost finalized our birth plan, and sent it to my sister to look over. Nathan went to the gym, I set up our new backpacking tent to make sure our new double sleeping pad would fit in it (it does, yay!), and then I started preparing food for the family get together we were having later in the day. I usually watch Netflix while I cook, but since we had just finished the show we were watching, I decided to look up Easter sermons. It seemed appropriate, being Easter and all, and since we didn't go to church. It was right around 11am, and I found a link for a live stream from the church we went to when we lived in Seattle, Bethany Community Church, that happened to start at 11am. I decided to give it a try. It was an excellent sermon. You should listen to it. It's pretty short, not boring, and an excellent perspective on the Easter story, unique to any I'd ever heard. It focused a lot on Joseph, which most people don't focus on. Here's the link to it. They don't have that particular sermon posted at this very moment, but I'm sure it will be posted very soon. Just look for the one from March 27th.
Anyways, the sermon was excellent, and really helped me refocus my energy on something other than death. That's the point of Easter, right? Death being defeated? Easter is about Jesus conquering death. Death could not overpower Jesus. Jesus was raised from the dead. Boom. Death didn't win. And because Jesus defeated death, we don't have to fear death. I've never really been one to fear my own death, but thinking about the death of those I care about is horrifically terrifying. That's not a death I'm okay with. There was a short period of time right after Ayden's diagnosis that I started having very horrific and vivid visions of the people I care about dying. My death doesn't scare me, but the death of those around me apparently terrifies me greatly. Ever since I was a teenager, I always had this perspective that I'd die as soon as my death would accomplish more than me continuing to live. Whether or not that's accurate, it's just simply the perspective I've had. Jesus' death obviously accomplished more than if He were to continue living, considering His death resulted in paying the debt of all sins of humanity, for all time, which means we can have a relationship with God, and spend eternity with Him in heaven after we die. Ayden's death is not something I'm okay with. It isn't something I think I've fully accepted. It is still something I completely dread, that I know will absolutely destroy my heart, something that I think is completely unfair, unjust, and horrible. But she isn't ever going to experience pain. She isn't ever going to experience heartbreak. She isn't ever going to have to face a single moment where she feels unloved. She will never hear an unkind word spoken to her. She will go straight from our arms to the arms of Jesus. And that picture isn't something to be feared. Jesus died on the cross on Easter, so precious babies like our little Ayden can spend eternity with Him in heaven. She will never be afraid. Jesus conquered death once and for all, for my precious baby Ayden. My pain is honestly very selfish. My pain comes from me losing her. She does not suffer at all from this situation. Honestly, she benefits greatly. She gets to meet Jesus first. I don't think it's fair, from the perspective of being her mother, who has to face losing her...but for her, there couldn't be a better option.
Easter reminded me of how great things can come from death, despite how horrific and painful death is. It helped remind me that though losing Ayden will be the most painful thing I've ever experienced, good can still come from it. Great things can still come from it. Great things have already come from it, despite how painful it already is. And I have a choice to make. I can be angry, and dwell on my anger, and accomplish nothing, or I can choose to love. I can choose to love despite my anger, and love those around me the way I wish Ayden would have been loved. I can choose to carry out her legacy, to let her be remembered, to let her change my heart for good, and to use my pain to help others. Loving is so much better than being angry. Being angry hurts. Loving hurts too, but it serves a purpose. Anger is inevitable, but if we let it overcome us, we give in to its destruction, and inhibit good things from coming from our circumstances. It's okay for me to be angry. It isn't okay for me to let anger control me. It doesn't honor God, and it doesn't honor Ayden. Anger typically results in a lot of regrets. If I spend the rest of my pregnancy being angry, I miss out on so many things with Ayden, so much that could have been accomplished. Love conquers all. That's what Easter is. A God who loved us so much, He died to pay the cost of all of our wrongdoings. His love conquered all things. His love has already conquered my pain, even though I can't fully see it yet.
Happy Easter, everyone. Don't forget to love today. Don't live with regrets. Choose love.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Friday, March 11, 2016
Turning Point?
Today is two months and seven days since we learned of little Ayden's diagnosis. That seems impossible to me. How can time have flown that fast? So much has happened, yet so little has happened. Ten weeks and one day until our due date. How is it even possible?
The majority of what has happened in the last two months has been processing, and celebrating. Don't get me wrong. There have been plenty of tears. I had a meltdown because of cheese. Uncontrollable sobbing...over cheese? Probably a little more going on in my mind than cheese. I'm sure you understand. But after the meltdown was over, it was a little funny to look back and realize how devastating cheese, or lack thereof, or simply having the wrong kind, was in that very moment. The tears are still quite prevalent, and they catch us off guard and come at unexpected moments, but so does the joy.
I want to talk about a conversation Nathan and I had during my first week back at work after everything happened. I had just received a pile of cards from coworkers, and I was at least wise enough to wait until I got home to read them. Nathan wasn't home yet, so I sat in my car after pulling up to the house, and began reading the cards. I was mostly procrastinating walking into an empty house, which seemed like an impossible task. Going back to work had been rough. Really rough. Not because of coworkers - they had been amazing and understanding. It was just rough because life was still really rough and the last place I wanted to be was at work, away from Nathan, feeling like I was wasting precious time I could be spending more intentionally with my baby girl. So there I sat, in my car after a long day at work, after a really rough week and a half. I sat there reading the cards, and the last card I read was signed by about a dozen people who work in our southern offices (Portland, Vancouver, Tualatin). There was a theme amongst what everyone wrote. Almost every single person who signed the card said how much Ayden was loved already, and that they were praying for a miracle for our baby girl. This resulted in one broken hearted momma having an absolute meltdown in her car, because of how badly she wanted a miracle for her little girl. I couldn't stop thinking about it. All I wanted was a miracle, for my baby to magically be healed, for there to be nothing wrong, for her to grow up with her mom and dad, for us to celebrate ever single moment of her long happy life. In that moment, I was so utterly heartbroken, I could think about nothing else. I wanted that miracle. But how do you hope and pray for a miracle, while also preparing for the miracle not to happen? I texted Nathan, told him I was having a meltdown, and he was home within ten minutes. He's so good to us. I don't remember the rest of that night, but I remember a conversation we had about desperately wanting miracles a day or so later.
We had just come home from somewhere, and found ourselves again parked in front of our house, procrastinating going inside. I must have brought up how desperately I just wanted a miracle for our little girl, because that was our topic of conversation. Nathan is really wise, and smart, and sometimes it's really annoying. Sometimes I don't want to hear the wise or smart thing, and I just want to hear what I want to hear, and nothing else. Luckily, God gave me a man who is always going to tell me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear. In all of his gentleness and kindness, Nathan started talking about how desperately he wanted a miracle as a child and teenager. He was born with a very rare muscle disease, McArdle's. It is quite complicated, but the short version of it is that he doesn't burn carbs for energy, he burns animal protein for energy (no soy for him), and his body doesn't produce lactic acid, which is kind of essential for rebuilding muscle after its broken down. As a child, he was very prone to injuries, and grew up in more physical pain than most people can imagine. Oh, and he also had epilepsy, which kind of made the whole muscle breakdown infinitely times worse. I remember him telling me a story about how he told his mom he was sad, but didn't know why. Really, he was in a ton of physical pain. But this was before they knew of his muscle disease (he was diagnosed at 9 years old), and he actually had been in so much pain his entire life that he could not distinguish between emotional and physical pain. He said he was sad because he was in pain, and he thought that is what sadness was. His childhood obviously looked a lot different than a lot of children's childhoods, due to his disease. Same went for his teenage years, and even now in his adult years. As we sat there in the car, Nathan told me of how many times he begged and begged God to heal him from his muscle disease, fully convinced that being healed would be the best possible option for his life. It would present so many more opportunities, he would be able to do so many more great, noble things. His motives were pure. And he wanted nothing more than to be healed of his disease. But then Nathan began telling me of how his disease has changed and shaped him into who he is today. How if he had not had his disease, his life would be completely different. The likelihood of the two of us ever meeting would have been greatly diminished. We probably would have never met, never gotten married. Who knows where I would have ended up - I probably would have died because I refused to go to the hospital when my appendix burst, and luckily he was there and drove me to the hospital. He said he probably would have joined the military, which means he could have been deployed, and never come home. The possibilities of how his life and my life would have been different are endless, and impossible to predict. Then he started talking about how though his disease has been so painful, physically and otherwise, he doesn't pray for a miracle anymore. He refuses to let it define him, he refuses to let it limit his purpose in life, and he refuses to let it get him down. He is part of a Facebook group of people all over the world who have McArdle's, and it is so, so sad reading all the posts of people who only focus on the hope that maybe someday there will be a cure, but in the meantime they have no interest in doing whatever they can to be healthy right now (treatment and management of the disease takes great discipline in diet and exercise). They are angry, bitter, hurting, and unhealthy. Nathan refuses to settle for that, and takes every day as an opportunity to better himself, grow, learn, and generate change. He still prays for a miracle, but the miracle he needs, even if it isn't the miracle he wants. He acknowledges that he knows that it is impossible for us to truly know what we need, until after we have it. Therefore, he lives every day trying to be the best person he can be, rather than just praying for different circumstances that he thinks will help him be a better person. He decides to make changes to his life, rather than waiting until his circumstances miraculously change.
Stupid, dumb, wise, Nathan.
I really can't tell the full conversation well. You would have had to be there to experience Nathan's grandiose wisdom in all it's greatness. But I can tell you that something clicked inside me during that conversation. It was like something went from knowledge to true understanding. All I want is a miracle. All I can see right now is how horrific my situation is, and the best possible alternative is a miracle. What I can't see, is the full picture. I can't see what ripple effect Ayden is already having on so many people. I can't see the growth I will take as I come out of this. I can't see so many things. All I could see was a way to not have to experience the pain I'm experiencing. But something clicked in my heart, and I knew, in the deepest part of my being, that if a miracle was not what God has in store for our little family, that He would find a way to redeem our situation, and use it for something far greater than I can picture or imagine right now.
I know what some of you are thinking. Wouldn't a full life be able to accomplish so much more than a short life? Isn't it possible that if she lived, she could change the world? Don't think I haven't gone down that road forty seven billion times, and explain that to God just as many times (yes, I explain things to God, as if He isn't already all-knowing. You don't? I think that makes you the weird one). But here's something I've come to grasp. Bear with me. These concepts build on each other.
1. This is not "God's will" for us and Ayden. Now, before you tell me I'm a bad Christian and I'm probably going to Hell, let me explain. If you still think I'm going to Hell after the explanation, that's fine. I don't really care what you think. Anyways. God created a perfect earth, void of death and pain. Then humans screwed it all up, and we started doing things that hurt ourselves and hurt others. This was not what God wanted for us. This was not His will for us. His will was a perfect dwelling place, where pain did not exist. Throughout the existence of humanity, we have really messed up the world, and can't figure out how to stop hurting each other. Horrific things result as consequences of the actions of humanity; murder, suicide, abuse, war, illness, suffering, death, etc. The world simply isn't as it should be, and thus you get circumstances such as ours, where horrific things happen for no apparent or explainable reason. Thus, I don't think this is His "will" for us, but it is simply a result of a world that is not as He intended it to be.
2. God can use any circumstance for something greater than we can possibly imagine. Romans 8:28 says "and we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them." This doesn't mean that if we pray right, God is going to change our circumstance into what we consider to be the "good" or "best" scenario. I wish that were the case. This verse means that if we love God, and let God use our circumstances, no matter how horrendous the circumstances may be, He will turn it into something good. He will give our most difficult circumstances purpose. Will he take away the pain? No, but He will provide joy in spite of the pain. Will He give us whatever we ask for? No, but He can take anything the world throws at us, and let good, and great, things come out of it. He provides a way for a horrific circumstance to be redeemed, and turned into something great.
3. I still, with all my heart, want a miracle. And I always will. However. Rather than focusing only on a miracle according to how I define a miracle, healing for my baby girl, I am going to focus on letting every single day be a miracle. I won't let her short life be in vain. I won't succumb to my grief, be defeated, and wallow in self pity. I will live each day with a refined perspective on the value and sanctity of life. I will accept the fact that I will lose my baby girl. I will cherish every kick. I will share her story. I will love the way I would want her to be loved if she were to live a full life on this earth. I will live with joy. I will experience pain, and choose to let that pain be used in order to love others better.
Therefore, all things taken into consideration, after that chat in the car with Nathan, a small sense of peace began to grow in me. Was the grief gone? No. Do I still desperately want a miracle, healing for my baby girl? 100%. Is that all I focus on? No. But that small sense of peace, despite the times I want to ignore it, drown it, scream, and remind God of how stupid the universe is, hasn't gone away, and it has started to grow. It's there in the darkest of moments, when there is no reason for it to be there. It's started growing, despite the fact that the grief has not subsided. It's the hint of purpose, of something greater than I can comprehend. It's a reminder that even though we live in a world full of pain, suffering, injustice, and just downright unfair circumstances, there is still hope. It's a reminder that when I don't feel like loving others, I'm reminded of how much love I've received, and how much I desperately want everyone to know how great God's love for them is. It helps me look past the stupid things that normally frustrate me, gain a little perspective, and choose gratefulness and joy, rather than anger and frustration. It helps me see past people's actions, and understand that really, we all just want unconditional love (we are just usually really crappy at accepting and showing it). More specifically, when I think of Ayden, and how desperately I want her to have a full, completely, long and happy life with us here on earth, and then I'm reminded that she won't, it helps me not give up and lose hope. There is purpose despite our circumstances, purpose despite our pain. None of this takes away the pain from the reality of what is going on, but purpose is a powerful thing, even when we can't fully see or understand that purpose. The bottom line, is that we are refusing to let a circumstance brought on by an unfair, unjust, stupid world define and defeat us. We will continue to love, grow, and overcome. We will do it despite how much it hurts. We will do it because we believe God, though this was not part of His perfect will, will use our circumstances to accomplish something great. We will continue to love, at all times, in all circumstances. And I don't really know if there is anything more powerful than that.
The majority of what has happened in the last two months has been processing, and celebrating. Don't get me wrong. There have been plenty of tears. I had a meltdown because of cheese. Uncontrollable sobbing...over cheese? Probably a little more going on in my mind than cheese. I'm sure you understand. But after the meltdown was over, it was a little funny to look back and realize how devastating cheese, or lack thereof, or simply having the wrong kind, was in that very moment. The tears are still quite prevalent, and they catch us off guard and come at unexpected moments, but so does the joy.
I want to talk about a conversation Nathan and I had during my first week back at work after everything happened. I had just received a pile of cards from coworkers, and I was at least wise enough to wait until I got home to read them. Nathan wasn't home yet, so I sat in my car after pulling up to the house, and began reading the cards. I was mostly procrastinating walking into an empty house, which seemed like an impossible task. Going back to work had been rough. Really rough. Not because of coworkers - they had been amazing and understanding. It was just rough because life was still really rough and the last place I wanted to be was at work, away from Nathan, feeling like I was wasting precious time I could be spending more intentionally with my baby girl. So there I sat, in my car after a long day at work, after a really rough week and a half. I sat there reading the cards, and the last card I read was signed by about a dozen people who work in our southern offices (Portland, Vancouver, Tualatin). There was a theme amongst what everyone wrote. Almost every single person who signed the card said how much Ayden was loved already, and that they were praying for a miracle for our baby girl. This resulted in one broken hearted momma having an absolute meltdown in her car, because of how badly she wanted a miracle for her little girl. I couldn't stop thinking about it. All I wanted was a miracle, for my baby to magically be healed, for there to be nothing wrong, for her to grow up with her mom and dad, for us to celebrate ever single moment of her long happy life. In that moment, I was so utterly heartbroken, I could think about nothing else. I wanted that miracle. But how do you hope and pray for a miracle, while also preparing for the miracle not to happen? I texted Nathan, told him I was having a meltdown, and he was home within ten minutes. He's so good to us. I don't remember the rest of that night, but I remember a conversation we had about desperately wanting miracles a day or so later.
We had just come home from somewhere, and found ourselves again parked in front of our house, procrastinating going inside. I must have brought up how desperately I just wanted a miracle for our little girl, because that was our topic of conversation. Nathan is really wise, and smart, and sometimes it's really annoying. Sometimes I don't want to hear the wise or smart thing, and I just want to hear what I want to hear, and nothing else. Luckily, God gave me a man who is always going to tell me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear. In all of his gentleness and kindness, Nathan started talking about how desperately he wanted a miracle as a child and teenager. He was born with a very rare muscle disease, McArdle's. It is quite complicated, but the short version of it is that he doesn't burn carbs for energy, he burns animal protein for energy (no soy for him), and his body doesn't produce lactic acid, which is kind of essential for rebuilding muscle after its broken down. As a child, he was very prone to injuries, and grew up in more physical pain than most people can imagine. Oh, and he also had epilepsy, which kind of made the whole muscle breakdown infinitely times worse. I remember him telling me a story about how he told his mom he was sad, but didn't know why. Really, he was in a ton of physical pain. But this was before they knew of his muscle disease (he was diagnosed at 9 years old), and he actually had been in so much pain his entire life that he could not distinguish between emotional and physical pain. He said he was sad because he was in pain, and he thought that is what sadness was. His childhood obviously looked a lot different than a lot of children's childhoods, due to his disease. Same went for his teenage years, and even now in his adult years. As we sat there in the car, Nathan told me of how many times he begged and begged God to heal him from his muscle disease, fully convinced that being healed would be the best possible option for his life. It would present so many more opportunities, he would be able to do so many more great, noble things. His motives were pure. And he wanted nothing more than to be healed of his disease. But then Nathan began telling me of how his disease has changed and shaped him into who he is today. How if he had not had his disease, his life would be completely different. The likelihood of the two of us ever meeting would have been greatly diminished. We probably would have never met, never gotten married. Who knows where I would have ended up - I probably would have died because I refused to go to the hospital when my appendix burst, and luckily he was there and drove me to the hospital. He said he probably would have joined the military, which means he could have been deployed, and never come home. The possibilities of how his life and my life would have been different are endless, and impossible to predict. Then he started talking about how though his disease has been so painful, physically and otherwise, he doesn't pray for a miracle anymore. He refuses to let it define him, he refuses to let it limit his purpose in life, and he refuses to let it get him down. He is part of a Facebook group of people all over the world who have McArdle's, and it is so, so sad reading all the posts of people who only focus on the hope that maybe someday there will be a cure, but in the meantime they have no interest in doing whatever they can to be healthy right now (treatment and management of the disease takes great discipline in diet and exercise). They are angry, bitter, hurting, and unhealthy. Nathan refuses to settle for that, and takes every day as an opportunity to better himself, grow, learn, and generate change. He still prays for a miracle, but the miracle he needs, even if it isn't the miracle he wants. He acknowledges that he knows that it is impossible for us to truly know what we need, until after we have it. Therefore, he lives every day trying to be the best person he can be, rather than just praying for different circumstances that he thinks will help him be a better person. He decides to make changes to his life, rather than waiting until his circumstances miraculously change.
Stupid, dumb, wise, Nathan.
I really can't tell the full conversation well. You would have had to be there to experience Nathan's grandiose wisdom in all it's greatness. But I can tell you that something clicked inside me during that conversation. It was like something went from knowledge to true understanding. All I want is a miracle. All I can see right now is how horrific my situation is, and the best possible alternative is a miracle. What I can't see, is the full picture. I can't see what ripple effect Ayden is already having on so many people. I can't see the growth I will take as I come out of this. I can't see so many things. All I could see was a way to not have to experience the pain I'm experiencing. But something clicked in my heart, and I knew, in the deepest part of my being, that if a miracle was not what God has in store for our little family, that He would find a way to redeem our situation, and use it for something far greater than I can picture or imagine right now.
I know what some of you are thinking. Wouldn't a full life be able to accomplish so much more than a short life? Isn't it possible that if she lived, she could change the world? Don't think I haven't gone down that road forty seven billion times, and explain that to God just as many times (yes, I explain things to God, as if He isn't already all-knowing. You don't? I think that makes you the weird one). But here's something I've come to grasp. Bear with me. These concepts build on each other.
1. This is not "God's will" for us and Ayden. Now, before you tell me I'm a bad Christian and I'm probably going to Hell, let me explain. If you still think I'm going to Hell after the explanation, that's fine. I don't really care what you think. Anyways. God created a perfect earth, void of death and pain. Then humans screwed it all up, and we started doing things that hurt ourselves and hurt others. This was not what God wanted for us. This was not His will for us. His will was a perfect dwelling place, where pain did not exist. Throughout the existence of humanity, we have really messed up the world, and can't figure out how to stop hurting each other. Horrific things result as consequences of the actions of humanity; murder, suicide, abuse, war, illness, suffering, death, etc. The world simply isn't as it should be, and thus you get circumstances such as ours, where horrific things happen for no apparent or explainable reason. Thus, I don't think this is His "will" for us, but it is simply a result of a world that is not as He intended it to be.
2. God can use any circumstance for something greater than we can possibly imagine. Romans 8:28 says "and we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them." This doesn't mean that if we pray right, God is going to change our circumstance into what we consider to be the "good" or "best" scenario. I wish that were the case. This verse means that if we love God, and let God use our circumstances, no matter how horrendous the circumstances may be, He will turn it into something good. He will give our most difficult circumstances purpose. Will he take away the pain? No, but He will provide joy in spite of the pain. Will He give us whatever we ask for? No, but He can take anything the world throws at us, and let good, and great, things come out of it. He provides a way for a horrific circumstance to be redeemed, and turned into something great.
3. I still, with all my heart, want a miracle. And I always will. However. Rather than focusing only on a miracle according to how I define a miracle, healing for my baby girl, I am going to focus on letting every single day be a miracle. I won't let her short life be in vain. I won't succumb to my grief, be defeated, and wallow in self pity. I will live each day with a refined perspective on the value and sanctity of life. I will accept the fact that I will lose my baby girl. I will cherish every kick. I will share her story. I will love the way I would want her to be loved if she were to live a full life on this earth. I will live with joy. I will experience pain, and choose to let that pain be used in order to love others better.
Therefore, all things taken into consideration, after that chat in the car with Nathan, a small sense of peace began to grow in me. Was the grief gone? No. Do I still desperately want a miracle, healing for my baby girl? 100%. Is that all I focus on? No. But that small sense of peace, despite the times I want to ignore it, drown it, scream, and remind God of how stupid the universe is, hasn't gone away, and it has started to grow. It's there in the darkest of moments, when there is no reason for it to be there. It's started growing, despite the fact that the grief has not subsided. It's the hint of purpose, of something greater than I can comprehend. It's a reminder that even though we live in a world full of pain, suffering, injustice, and just downright unfair circumstances, there is still hope. It's a reminder that when I don't feel like loving others, I'm reminded of how much love I've received, and how much I desperately want everyone to know how great God's love for them is. It helps me look past the stupid things that normally frustrate me, gain a little perspective, and choose gratefulness and joy, rather than anger and frustration. It helps me see past people's actions, and understand that really, we all just want unconditional love (we are just usually really crappy at accepting and showing it). More specifically, when I think of Ayden, and how desperately I want her to have a full, completely, long and happy life with us here on earth, and then I'm reminded that she won't, it helps me not give up and lose hope. There is purpose despite our circumstances, purpose despite our pain. None of this takes away the pain from the reality of what is going on, but purpose is a powerful thing, even when we can't fully see or understand that purpose. The bottom line, is that we are refusing to let a circumstance brought on by an unfair, unjust, stupid world define and defeat us. We will continue to love, grow, and overcome. We will do it despite how much it hurts. We will do it because we believe God, though this was not part of His perfect will, will use our circumstances to accomplish something great. We will continue to love, at all times, in all circumstances. And I don't really know if there is anything more powerful than that.
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