The Love of A Child

I often wonder how things would be in our home if Cain could be with us. The two year anniversary of our son's birth and death is rapidly approaching, less than three short months away, and the sadness, the aching that is always with me feels more intensified as the calendar dates drop away.  Although most days the pain is manageable, there will always be those days when it is hard not to slip back into that bleak place where happiness takes leave and sorrow resides. It is those days the avoidance of reliving our nightmare seems impossible. Believe me when I say it is a constant struggle to live in the now, the present, to close my eyes and not be instantly assailed with images of telling my son goodbye. Sometimes I literally shake my head, as if to expel the memory, and say to myself, "Not today. I cannot do this today. I simply don't have the strength."  I find I have used that phrase a lot lately.

I suppose the majority of these feelings can be attributed to the nearing of Cain's birthday. I see moms out shopping, a mom with three sons, and instantly, my mind conjures an image of Coop and Casen with Cain there with them.  I wonder how they would all interact. I see the mom look at me with my two boys. She gives me that smile as if to say, "You should try it with three."  I want to tell her that I would love to. That I do have three boys, three beautiful boys. I was just forced to say goodbye to one of mine far too soon. 

Within in the last year, I've come along way. Really. And I truly believe that my living children, Cooper and Casen, are owed a tremendous amount of credit. It is amazing what children can do for the soul. I truly believe God gave them to me because he knew how much I would need them.  Children can take us to such a simple place, a happy place, a thankful place where all seems right with the world, and you can't imagine loving anything more than you love those precious faces. They remind us of our blessings when our sorrows try to take over.  The hugs from their arms are the only medicine for our deep and seeping wounds.  And sometimes their words seem to come straight from heaven like little whispers from God when I need them the most.

I had many people tell me throughout my pregnancy with Cain and even during our loss that God would not give me more than I could handle. At times, I earnestly wondered why He thought I could handle this. Could anyone handle this, I mean truly survive it, without transitioning into this shell of a person? I sure didn't feel like I could, and there are days now that I still wonder if I can. I suppose that is partly why He gave me my two living boys. Because he knew just how much I would need them - their love, their hugs, their kisses, their smiles.  And he uses each of them in different ways to help me through this journey.  He knew how much I would love them, and how much their love would mean to me. How their love would help heal me when nothing else can.

And they are my beacons in that sea of despair. They are my anchors that keep me steady when the storms of grief come. The waves may knock me down time and time again, but they help me stand to face the next change in tide. Yes, life was cruel to us; it was unfair. This tempest was not part of the course we planned. But we are all riding it out together.  I don't know where I would be without the unconditional love of my children.  It always, always helps to sail me through.