Prayer. Something that has always come so easy for me, a way to talk to God to tell him about this glorious life and all the goodness I have felt. A way to show my appreciation, my gratitude and my love for Him. A small gesture I am so used to performing to explicitly portray my thankfulness for this life that I have been given.
This plain word and simple little act has changed so much throughout this grieving process. After Harper passed away prayer quickly turned into questions, soulful pleading and misunderstandings. What once was used as a tranquil way to say thank you turned into a catastrophic plea for answers. Why? How? When? ... all of these words started my new attempts of prayer. Is it possible to even be thankful in a time like this? Will I ever find the beauty in this immense sorrow that now overtakes me? Joy, does that word even have a meaning these days? Those were the thoughts that now ran rampant through my mind at the thought of prayer.
After Harper left this world I felt myself searching for a way to find fullness again, a way to bring back the naïve feelings of life before loss. Anything to avoid the pain, I would do anything to avoid the deep ache that tugs at my heart, the tug that some days seems to be so much that it brings me to my knees. Church, the house of God, it has to be there that I will feel re-connected again, it has to be there that my soul will find it's way again, it just has to be. Do I ask for forgiveness? Do I sing his praise? Do I mourn the death of my daughter or do I rejoice knowing she is with our Savior? Where were my answers...
I learned though that the answer is: All of the Above and None of the Above. It doesn't make sense, I know this. But that is the answer. There is no yes and there isn't a no. There is just Faith. There is just God. There is just belief. That is what you cling to, that is what you hope for and that is what you search for. We BELIEVE. It becomes a magical word that we (Parents of Loss) learn to live by. Rooted deep in our Hope. It's not much, but it's enough most days.
I received communion several times while I was on bed rest in the hospital. It was a quiet few minutes, where we would close our eyes and pray to our Lord for the health of Harper. It was a time where I could cherish that little human growing inside of me. It was a time where I was able to recognize the miracle of life and how precious it can be. It was a time that I looked forward to each and every day. So much so, that when I was discharged from the hospital I had this insane pull towards church. I felt that the only way I could feel those feelings again, the only way that I could feel connected to my daughter again was to attend mass. I mean, wouldn't it be in the Lord's house that I would feel the safest? Wouldn't it be in the Lord's house that maybe, just maybe, some of my questions would be answered? Isn't it in the Lord's house that I would see my little girl again? (maybe not physically, but spiritually). I yearned for the strongest connection that I could possibly gain. I needed something to fill me because at that time, my soul was running near empty.
I did not get the answers I was looking for unfortunately. I did not feel like I was fulfilled when I walked through those doors. Instead, when I attended Mass (the Easter season nonetheless) all I could see filling the room was joy, perfection, glory and praise. For the first time in my life, I truly felt alone. Every time I attended mass for the first few months, it took so much strength inside of me to fight the tears back. Why you ask? Because everything surrounding me looked like perfection and appeared so put together; all while I felt so broken inside. There was the lovely family of four sitting in front of us, maybe they too should be a family five, but at that moment, their life looked so ideal. Or how sweet was that little girl sitting four rows and to the right of us all dressed up in her frilly dress and large "Texas sized" bow. When I looked around, all I could feel was sadness inside of me. All I could feel was pain. That sharp, stabbing, aching pain that cuts me deep every time. I knew I had to take a break. Not from God, I needed him more than ever, but I had to take a break from his home. I needed to bring Him into mine, before searching for Him in His.
But...
With time and healing, I was able to see the light again when I returned. With time and healing I could watch that sweet little girl four rows in front of us and smile. With time and healing I didn't have to fight back the tears anymore (or at least, as often). With time and healing I didn't feel so alone anymore. With time and healing my prayers were resembling some normality again. As we approach Harpers First birthday and I begin to relive the beginning of {This Unimaginable Journey} I am feeling more full than I could have ever imagined I would feel. I am feeling more alive. I am full of hope and I am full of peace. Peace in knowing that my daughter still lives within me. Peace in knowing that she is our child and Peace in knowing that she will always be loved and will not be forgotten.
Of course there is still sadness, there will always be sorrow, but those days are becoming less and less. Those days don't define me anymore. The days that define me are the ones spent celebrating her life. The moments that I get to tell Levi he has a baby sister. The moments that I watch him point to a picture of an angel and say "Harper". (I'm pretty sure he's going to think Angels are called "Harper" for quite awhile). I look forward to our prayers at night, the prayers where Levi says her name { God Bless Mommy, Daddy, Harper and Spaten.} I cherish the small little signs that my heart tells me were sent by her. Those are the moments that define me. My two beautiful, amazing, and talented children and my husband who never ceases to amaze me. Moments with them are what I cherish most and for that I am so very very thankful.
So with time and healing and with hope in my heart I will pick up another broken piece on this Unimaginable Journey and place it lovingly where it belongs because in a few short weeks we will be celebrating Harper's First Birthday, a day I wasn't sure I would be able to make it too, let alone, look forward too. This journey has been hard but this journey has been so incredibly rewarding as well. To my beautiful daughter up above "Mommy Loves You!".
