I just found this in my drafts from October. I think was waiting for an image to go with it and lost track. And it was rambling. And not entirely on topic. But very much how I was feeling on the day after his 2nd birthday.
Forgiveness. Whew. What do I want to forgive?
I think I still have a lot of anger that this happened. That I was so sick. That he was so sick. It’s just … I haven’t done a whole lot of “why me?” At least not out loud. Logically I know that things happen. That no one has any control. That pregnancy and birth is a messy process, and that frankly, it’s amazing that it goes right as much as it does. It doesn’t make me not angry that this happened. To us. To anyone.
The common loss phrase “too beautiful for earth” frequently makes me irrationally angry. I know that some people find comfort in the idea that their baby was special. That there was a plan, a reason. But there is no reason. Owen has been asking why a lot recently. About everything but also why Noah died. We try to explain the medical side of it. But the truth is, it’s not a question I can answer. We are human, and our bodies don’t always work right. The pieces don’t quite fit the way they should.
Forgiveness. Who am I angry at? Biology? I don’t know. Maybe some day I won’t be angry. That day isn’t today.