I've spent the last few days pouring my soul out, explaining my reality to those who have wanted to read it. I wanted people to understand how that it's ok to talk about what you have done or felt in your past. I was living in a world where I could not forgive myself for having the thoughts I was having. I've faced a lot of trials since the loss of the girls and all the while have cursed God, blaming Him for what was happening to me. I didn't want to believe anymore, but I also couldn't imagine a world where my girls were not living on, waiting for me to join them one day. It wasn't until recently that I realized how much of a hold satan had on me. I have felt like my life was ok. I'm not a complainer, even though I've been thrown more than my fair share of struggles. I am strong and I can handle it. The hits have always come at me. But not this time. This time, He came for my son. I was so mad. The gloves were now off and He was hitting below the belt. He had already taken two of my children and now he is going to make my son sick. How can this be? With everyone worried about B, I decided to create a caring bridge site. This was a HUGE milestone for me, because I never share anything publicly. EVER. To my surprise, B loved it! He loved all the comments he was getting and all the well wishes. This gave me an idea. I decided to share it on Facebook. I know, revolutionary, but for me it was huge. I haven't posted on Facebook in years. I especially never posted anything about my kids being sick and needing prayers. As the comments came in, my son's face started to cheer up. He was so happy that all of these people he didn't know were talking with God about him. One night, he asked me "how many times do you think God has heard my name?" and I said "a lot." At that very moment, I got up from our bed and walked into the other room. I felt this overwhelming urge to pray. I sat on the bed and bowed my head and started to pray, with tears flowing down my face. Within seconds, I hit the floor and was on my knees. Not long after that, I was completely doubled over, prayer rushing over me like never before. I could hear God speaking to me. Actually speaking to me. I couldn't believe my own ears were hearing this, my heart was feeling this, my body was surrendering to this. I have never had an experience like that in my life. It was one of the most exhilarating, but unsettling things I have ever been through. As I stood up, I wiped the tears from my face. I knew God's hand was placed on my son that night and He would be protecting him during his surgery.
I didn't expect what would happen next and what has been happening since. I barely slept that night, but was up for the surgery bright and early. My family was there with us as we waited for them to take B back. It wasn't long before there was a knock at the door. When the door opened, it was though an angel had appeared. Our cousin, whom we haven't seen in a while, was there to pray with us. He is a preacher. He traveled about 2 hours to be there and he didn't know how much we needed him. The next 3 hours we spent in the waiting room reminiscing with him and telling great stories about our children. We had the entire waiting room listening to us. God was definitely there. As the hours passed, I was reminded of how fragile life is. I have never been a parent in the waiting room. I have always been a child being cared for, whether I was a child or an adult. A selflessness was born that I've never had before. We were given the good news that surgery went well and were sent to a room. As we watched our child struggle with coming out of anesthesia, my heart broke. I had promised him so long ago that I would never let anything happen to him. I was breaking that promise. He was in pain and he was confused. It was so hard to watch. The real break-through for me came the night we came home. We were supposed to stay in the hospital for 3 days, but were sent home after 1 night. We were skeptical but knew B wanted to go home. As he lay there helpless in my bed, the first thought that came to my mind was my girls. In an instant it all made sense to me. 13 years of pain and suffering all made sense. I had been led down this path for so many different reasons, but all of which were coming together to make this one moment. I felt that my girls had a purpose and that they were the ones guiding the surgeons and helping B through all of this pain. For the first time in 9 years, I actually spoke to them out loud. I told them that I loved them and that I was sorry for what I had done. I felt free, finally of the guilt and burden that had haunted me all those years. I knew they would always watch over our family, but I knew especially that they would always watch over their brother and sister. My heart was full of love for the first time in a long time. There was no hole left in the space that they should be. They were finally real to me. I have acknowledged that. I have come to terms with what happened and I can't help but share my story. I can only imagine how many other mothers are out there feeling the same way. I knew that I had a purpose in life. That purpose was to be the best mother to my two living children that I possibly could be and to find my way with God again. I can't stop thinking of all the things I am going to do with this new found faith. All of the places I will volunteer. All of the people I might help. I just want to spread the word, to shout it from the mountain tops that God is always listening to you. Never give up hope and never lose your faith. I only wish I hadn't.
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