It's no secret that I am a religous person. I believe in God. I go to church. I also think it's safe to say that loosing my baby was the first time my faith had ever really, truely been tested. It was the first time in my life that I asked (begged!) for something and didn't get it. The one time my prayers were not answered.
I hear people who've lost someone say that they never believed in God, but they prayed anyway. Their prayer wasn't answered so that only reinforced the fact for them that God didn't exist. I always wonder: if they had got what they wanted would they have given God the credit?
I also hear people who say they can't believe in God, because if there was one why would He let these bad things happen. This is a tough one for me. I do not know the answer. I often wonder why. I'm still waiting for the answer. The truth is I do not know.
I'm going to tell you something I haven't told anyone. Not even my husband. Many times over the past year I've feared that Brenna was taken from me as punishment. I've thought that God took her because I didn't deserve her. In the beginning of my pregnancy I had some bleeding. Then the nurse at the doctors office read my results wrong and told me my numbers were going down (indicating a miscarriage) when in fact they were going up! So, for a few days I wasn't sure what was going on. At one point I couln't take it anymore, and I said that if I was going to have a miscarriage I wanted it to get over with. I was upset about it, but I remember thinking "At least I'll be able to drink at Jenna's (my step-daughter's) wedding" which was a few months away. Of course I was not having a miscarriage, and I was pregnant at Jenna's wedding.
A week later my utuerus ruptured.
I've thought about that many times over the last year. Was Brenna's death my punishment for being disappointed that everyone else got to drink and I had to be the DD? Did God take her from me because I don't deserve her?
Today at the grocery store I saw the saddest little girl I've ever seen. She was about 10 years old, and she was with her mother and mother's friend. The whole time they were shopping (I saw them a few times) they two women never acknowledged the little girl. They walked in front of her talking and carrying on while the little girl followed them pushing the cart. The look on her face was heartbreaking. She was miserable. I wondered what her mother must have done to deserve to be blessed with her. Which got me thinking about all the other terrible mothers I know, and what they must have done to have been blessed with their babies.
Then it dawned on me.
Babies aren't prizes.
God doesn't hand them out because we've been good. He doesn't take them away because we've been bad.
They are a blessing for sure. But a blessing isn't a reward. It's a gift.
I don't have all the answers. I'm not going to pretend that I do. I still don't know why Brenna wasn't born alive. Why wasn't she born a few weeks later when she would have had a fighting chance? I don't know.
What I do know is that I was blessed to have her, even if it was for only a short time. And I thank God for her.