Will's room

I walk past Will's bedroom door and notice that it's open. My heart skips a beat and I quickly shut the door. I'm not ready. I just can't bring myself to go into his room. Not yet. I'm not ready to see his clothes, touch his blankets, see all of his supplies and diapers stacked, ready to use.

I just can't.

January 2015

Have you ever been swimming in the ocean? Sometimes when you're out in the fierce pounding of the waves, it's hard to catch your breath. Sometimes, when you are underneath the briny sea, you can see the bright light shining above you. You know which way to swim to allow your hungry lungs fill with air. But the instant before your head surfaces, another wave comes crashing down, pushing you underneath the black water.

Down, down, down, till you feel your body hit the bottom.

Three weeks after we bury our baby Will, I go into the doctor to get an ultrasound. I am 21 weeks along with our baby girl. The thought of this sweet angel coming to the world has kept me hanging on. So when the ultrasound tech leaves the room after only a few moments, I feel like my head has been forced under water. Our little one has gone back to her Heavenly Father, before she could even take a breath.

Another delivery, another casket.

How can I go on?

I hold my white flag high. I beg my Savior to take this from me. Take this pain. Take these tears. Take this heartache that I cannot bear.

And He does.

I make it another day.