The days since our sons life celebration service have been the hardest. These days have been harder than the days of our sons passing and the two weeks that followed. It's the finality of it all that hurts I think. We are trying to reconcile between holding on to whatever we can of our son, and the proof that he existed in this life, and continuing on in life ourselves.
I am so wrought with the guilt of not cramming every possible life experience that I wanted to have with my son during his short stay here on this earth that I could have. I know that no matter how much I could have crammed into his eight months I would never feel it was enough. Still I wish I could have done more.
My heart aches so much. I am trying to discern the difference between extreme sadness and depression. I am sure that at this point I am not experiencing depression, but I am having a hard time knowing the difference. I am clinging to God with every fiber of my being. I am asking that he shows me some significant miracle or heart change in me, my children, my husband, someone, somewhere! I need a miracle.
I keep asking God everyday to allow me to have visions of my son in heaven, or at very least let me dream of it. You see my only hope to ever see my son again, is to go to heaven, but I would like for God to remind me that he is there.
As my body returns to it's prepregnant state, my heart breaks a little more. It's as if the physical signs of Baby David's life are slowly fading away, and that is painful. I miss my son, God I miss my son.
As you all who are reading this think of my family, please pray for us. We need it, and we need to see God in real tangilble ways as we process through the hardest thing we have ever faced.