While laying on my bed after returning home from work tonight, I found myself repeating the title of the book in my head while starring at Wyatt's picture and feeling Nolan kick in my stomach. Several thoughts rang through my mind, "What a strange place to be? Stuck in a world without my first son, while awaiting the arrival of my second son. Still mourning the loss of the tragic events that took place 11 months ago, while rejoicing the fact that a miracle took place just a few short months afterwards."
As I laid there thinking of my life, I found myself reciting the title of the book again but replacing Margaret with Megan. I followed it with "I NEED to know if my son, Wyatt, is okay." Then the tears flowed.
In this life, I don't know what is worse. Is it worse to lose your son to a congenital heart defect that not even the best doctors in the US can explain to you how or what caused the defect? Or to wonder everyday if something you did could have caused his heart defects? Or to lose your son and wonder if he ever felt pain or if he suffered? Or to lose the child you tried 26 months to create, the golden egg that was retrieved during IVF, the special child? Or to lose your child without hearing him cry, seeing his eyes, watching him move? Or to deliver your child and when he is supposed to be crying only hear silence, then look at your husband and realize that your child will never make a sound? Or is it worse to question what happens after life? To wonder if your child is safe? Is your child really looking down on you? Will you ever see your child again?
I don't have the answer. Each question sucks! I never thought I would have to relate to any of those questions. But I do. Pretty soon, I will be faced with new questions. With the excitement of a new little life getting ready to join our family, I face the dread of the questions that may come. The many questions and statements that start with "what if" and "it could have been". But regardless of the dread, they are still going to come. I pray that the excitement out weighs the dreaded questions and statements, but in the end, I realize that they will still present themselves.
So I end this post with a quote from the book:
"Are you still there God? It's me, Margaret. I know you're there God. I know you wouldn't have missed this for anything! Thank you God. Thanks an awful lot..."