A broken heart that’s not my own

If you have followed my blog, or are friends with me on facebook or know me in person you know I am struggling with grief over my friend Jessica’s loss. Her son, Jaron Isaiah- Warrior baby J- went home to heaven after only 3 days here on earth.

I didn’t pray for this.

I prayed for a miracle. I was given many. Jaron beat more odds in his 9 months In Utero than anyone dared to believe he would. He did all the things that babies do- His mommy was sick- so very, very morning sick. He kicked… He turned away and pushed the many ultrasound techs away. I watched his expressions on ultrasound with my hand on his mommy’s knee. I felt I knew him- as much as anyone can know someone else’s unborn child. I was with his mommy the day she found out she was for sure expecting him. I was with her and took their announcement pictures the day they celebrated their older son’s birthday and told all their family. I had the honor of being included on so many behind the scenes moments with him. And still, I prayed for a miracle. I expected one. I loved him. And here is where I start to cry and can barely share the rest of how I am feeling. You see, he was not my child. He was hers and I have no right to express anything other than my support for her right now. But, I miss him. I miss him every time I go shopping for my other expectant friends. I miss him when I think of playing with his older brother this summer. I miss him when I see a letter “J” alone in any form. I miss him when my kids say things like “someday when we die we will get to meet Baby J” or ” Where is baby J mama?” or when my oldest who prayed and cried alongside me every step says so matter of factly ” He wasn’t supposed to die mama”. I miss him when I see arrows (which are very popular right now) because for months they have in my head been a symbol of what a strong warrior he was. And he was. strong. Stronger than any of us even knew.

I miss him when I wonder…years ago, I was told I had most likely miscarried my first child. I will never know for sure because I declined the testing to find out if that is what had happened. I will never know if there is a baby in heaven waiting for me. But, I have grieved the thought.

I miss him when I think of my dear friends baby “Bean” who went to heaven before he was born. A baby I never had the chance to know. But whose mother I cried with as we packed away his things. Ultrasound pictures I still have. Memories I am angry I never will create. I was supposed to be his godmother (or hers I suppose)…A godmother is supposed to spoil babies…not help pick out special memory boxes to hold special baby things that will never be worn. But, I have. and I would again if needed. It was and is the only way I can ever be there for Bean… and Bit…

If you could see me now, you would think I was insane. I am sobbing. These were not my children.

But, I hurt.

I hurt for the loss.

I hurt for the unfairness.

I hurt for the anguish my friend is in.

I hurt for the should have been’s, the what-if’s…

I smile when I think of Jaron, happy and whole and walking Heaven with Bean and Bit and maybe, even a baby I never knew I carried- suspected but, never confirmed.

I am angry… I am angry I can do NOTHING to take away the pain. I am angry that I can’t understand completely how Jessica, or her husband Ben… feels. I am ANGRY that the final miracle wasn’t given.

I am angry I am once again trying to comfort someone I care about and feeling like I am failing so miserably. How can you even begin to comfort or help a mother who has lost a child- at ANY point in her life? We are not designed to carry that kind of grief. Parents shouldn’t have to bury their children. Ever.

I hope.

in a savior who in a wisdom and as author of story we haven’t read the ending of thinks that Bean, and Bit, and Jaron… and so many, many others need to be in heaven now.

I am learning

I am learning what it means to mourn with those who mourn. It’s easy to rejoice with those who rejoice. It’s not so easy to mourn. I am learning which things I am saying are the “right” things. I am learning which are not. I am sorry for those.

I am learning how much even a 3 day life impacts a world.

I am learning…

always learning…

In time, I have a letter for Jaron, one which I will probably share. I never shared with anyone my letter to my maybe baby, my letter to Bean or Bit, But, This one I probably will. Because his mommy would want me to. Because, He was a stronger warrior than I am. and because, maybe, someday, someone, will read this… and know it’s OK to be broken hearted…for someone else’s baby

Jen, Thank you for teaching me all those years ago…And loving me even after all my many, many foot in mouth moments. I wish that Bean had not been the answer to preparing me for Jaron…And someday, I can’t wait to ask him if he knows how much he taught me. ❤

Jessica, Thank you for allowing me the honor of being a part of Jaron’s journey. Someday, I will hug him. And I hope he knows… I hope he knows how very lucky I feel to have been here for this.

Just an update. Jessica just shared her heart with the world on her blog. Please read it. http://www.jaronsjourney.wordpress.com

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