I'm am quite irrational

I must confess that I feel like a bit of a fraud when I look back on what I have shared with you. I've included, so far, the ways that I have grown and what I have learned theologically. The one poem wasn't even written by me, although it did express my feelings well. The truth is that I am often quite irrational about losing my son.

I cry at night. Not every night, but often enough. I beg God to give me my son back. Now that would be a huge miracle, considering his remains are in a lovely urn in our bedroom. I still beg God to tell me why he took my son. Why can't I hold him and raise him. Why can't I find joy in his triumphs and get frustrated when he doesn't listen to and obey his mother?!

I still have so many what ifs. They tend to be things like. "What if I had rested more?" "I should have fought harder for him after he was born." The biggest and scariest is, "What if the due date that I originally thought was right, was?" He would have been a week or so farther along. So then maybe the doctors would have fought for him too. I know that their due date was accurate. I had about 5 or 6 ultra sounds that confirmed his size/age, so I am simply an irrational grieving mother.

The point here isn't to make you bawl, but rather to let you know that while I am doing alright, I'm not great. The truth is that I hurt. My heart hurts and my arms ache.