I'm so relentlessly angry.
I can barely breathe I'm so enraged.
I feel anger toward myself, my body, the doctors, and the natural laws that govern the universe. I'm angry the world is a messed up place where bad thing happen randomly and innocent babies who never even asked to be born get sick and die.
I'm mad at all the stupid people who say stupid things because they are ignorant, uncomfortable, and thinking more of themselves and their own pain than mine. I'm mad at Christians who don't even know what the Bible says and project their piecemeal understanding onto me. I don't need to be sprinkled with Christian fairy dust and told how God is working all things for good and that everything happens for a reason. I want to punch the human who created that saying. What in the world kind of reason could two babies need to die for? If there is a reason it is simply not good enough. Unless it puts my babies back in my arms I couldn't care less anyway.
I'm angry my babies did not pull through and we did not get the happy ending we hoped for. I'm jealous of all the families whose babies beat the odds. And I can't stand listening to them say that God answers prayer and miracles are real.
I'm angry that the miracle I prayed for, begged for, never came. I prayed too. And by babies died anyway. I feel betrayed and alone.
It is difficult to admit that because I know who my Jesus is. My savior is loving, kind, and good. I do not serve a God who delights in the deaths of babies nor in suffering. I do not believe God took our girls from us, that he sees them as expendable to teach us a lesson or bring about some good. He is not punishing us. I know he grieves with us and this was never his plan. But I'm angry anyway because it just hurts so much.
I wish somehow I could be exempt from this, that I could wake up from this bad dream and find my babies in their crib and the pain would instantly vanish. I wish my girls could have been spared their suffering. What happened to them really was so unfair. They truly are innocent in all of this. I thought I was protecting my girls, keeping them safe in my belly, only to discover that I was helpless to save them when they needed me most. I depended on my body and it failed me in the worst way. I am plagued with the what ifs...what if I would have gone in a day sooner? Would they have been able to stop the labor? What if I did something that caused them to be born so early? Is it my fault? I can't help but feel like ultimately the responsibility was mine to keep them safe and I'm angry at my body.
There are no answers. At the end of the day my babies are gone and they are never coming back. Answers will not bring them back. A friend commented that answers would just beg more questions. And he is right, seeking answers is a vicious cycle that brings no resolution, just frustration and confusion. With or without answers the pain is permanent, the loss is forever, my girls are gone.
Although I know it was not God's will that my girls died, that He did not make it happen, I do know that He could have intervened at any moment and saved them. And I don't like that He didn't.
I will always wonder why God could have saved them but didn't.
So this is where my faith is tested.
I think faith is more than believing what you cannot see, it is also believing when what you can see is heartbreaking and enraging to look at it.