My heart is heavy this morning. I am not entirely sure why. I love Reagan's Garden, love reaching out to families and trying to find some way to give them a glimpse of hope and peace through their loss. Last night, I sat and made another round of cards to be delivered with the flowers. I feel such heartache at knowing these cards will go to women who are in labor at that very moment with a child who will never survive. It breaks my heart. And my words, my thoughts written in each card, seem so insignificant. Seem so wrong. It's not enough. There are literally no words, nothing to help in that moment. Each card has a verse that carried me through written at the bottom...the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit -Psalm 34:18. How wonderful it is that this is true, that God is close to us when we need Him most. That he saves us when we are crushed in spirit. THIS is the only thing that provides comfort, peace in our creator. I feel utterly insignificant and incompetent at relaying this truth.
And, though I know this truth, though I wholeheartedly believe Christ is the only reason I have any peace and hope, that because of His sacrifice I know my story with Reagan is not yet over, I still feel overwhelming bitterness. I am still angry with God for my pregnancy history. For infertility, for miscarriage, for stillbirth, for the stress of thinking we would lose Warren and Dean throughout the entire pregnancy, for prolonged bed rest, for a world of micro preemies, for knowing so well what the inside of a NICU looks like. And on and on it goes. For some reason, I feel I deserve better. Haven't I struggled enough? When will it get easier? Does it ever? I don't have answers to that, I don't understand why our journey was so difficult and filled with such pain. I don't understand why those who don't "deserve" it have easy lives, easy pregnancies, easy babies who SLEEP. And I hold that bitterness in my heart, letting it shape my outlook on life. It's not healthy. It doesn't bring Samuel or Reagan back. It doesn't give me wonderful, warm and fuzzy pregnancy memories with the boys. It doesn't reduce their delays or cut back on their therapies. It simply makes me miserable and sad. It makes me feel uncomfortable around people in their 3rd trimester, or people with healthy babies, or people with little girls. I truly do not want anyone to have to go through all we did, and yet, I don't want it to be easy for anyone else. What does that say about me? What does that say about my sinful heart? I am broken. Completely and utterly broken. And though I know and trust that the Lord is in control and that His plan is GOOD, I second guess Him and think I could have done it better. So today, my prayers is that I would let it go. That I would truly rejoice with families who welcome another little one into their families. Whether through trials of infertility or by accident, that I would find joy when my friends announce pregnancies. That I would be able to look at little girls without such a gut-wrenching pain in my chest, a literal take-your-breath away feeling as I continue to grieve for Reagan. I have learned these past 2+ years that I cannot do it on my own. I must let it go, surrender to Christ, and let Him carry me instead. I must rest in His peace, knowing His grace is sufficient for me. So, so difficult for me to do. And even harder to do on a regular basis. But for today, for this moment, I am letting it go. And maybe tomorrow God will give me the strength to do it again.