I'm going to be honest, losing you has made me more than a little pissed off at God. I wish I was one of those incredibly strong people who could praise him through the storm or whatever, but I'm not I guess. I'm mad that he would allow this to happen to us. My mom's first baby--my older sister--also died, and it appears what happened to her (issues with the baby herself) and what happened to you (issue with the umbilical cord) are completely unrelated. Why God? I mean really, can't there be some sort of of "one dead baby per immediate family" kind of rule you could enforce? I just don't get it, and frankly it makes me really angry. It seems like whenever something good happens, God gets all the credit ("Thank God for making my baby healthy"), but whenever something horrible happens it's all "well, sometimes things just happen." "Everything happens for a reason." In my mind at least, you can't have it both ways. If you believe God has the power to step in, answer prayers, and miraculously heal some people, you have to also believe he chooses not to use that power for other people. Like me. I just want to know why he chose to sit back and let you die.
Anyway, I write all this to explain this next part, which I promise gets a little less bitter and depressing. Over the last three weeks, I can't even tell you how many people have reached out to let me know they are praying for me and Dad. Family, friends, and an amazing amount (like AMAZING amount) of people we hardly know, or don't even know at all. The way your story has spread is really incredible.
I'll admit it, at first I was like, "I don't want their prayers."
But you know what? They're working.
I can feel them. Of course I'm still incredibly sad, I think I always will be, but I have started to feel surprisingly more what I can only describe as "at peace" with what happened. Two weeks ago, all I could manage to do was curl up in a sad little ball on the couch and wait for it to get dark so I could go back to bed. I thought I would never be happy again. I didn't want to be happy again, not without you. But each day is getting easier and easier. I'm surviving, and I'm even finding some joy in life again.
I honestly don't know how this would be possible without the incredible support we've gotten from friends and strangers, near and far.
I am proud to say we have the best friends in the world. They have "stepped up" in ways I could have never imagined. I feel so loved it's ridiculous. They've come over and just sat with me when I didn't feel like talking. They've cried for me. They've told me how pretty you were and how much they loved you. They've brought over food. They've sent beautiful flowers, kind cards, and such thoughtful gifts. They've sent messages, left voicemails, and texted to check on how we're doing. They've managed to make me laugh. They've made it obvious we're not alone in this mess.
Last night I was able to hang out with all my best friends (minus a precious few!) for the first time. It was hard, but wonderful. Stevie, they loved you so much and you would have loved all your "aunties," I know it. They got this necklace made for me:
I love it. Usually I don't really get into the whole angel thing, but this is perfect. If any of you girls are reading this, thank you.
So what I guess I'm trying to say is that even though to me it kind of feels like God punched me in the face, at least he gave me an ice pack to make the pain feel a little bit more bearable. Thank you to everyone in our lives who is walking beside us. You guys are the best ice pack in the world. :)
Hope you're getting into all sorts of trouble up there in Heaven, little girl.
All my love,
2 hours ago