Please Just Listen

Before I vent, let me first say, I know that you don't know what to say to me.  And I know that what you do say comes from a caring place.  I know that you are trying to make me feel better, but just as my sweet little Gabe can't fix my broken heart by putting his stuffed animals up under my shirt, you can't fix me either.  Please. Stop trying.  Just listen and tell me you care. 

Please stop telling me how blessed I am.  Believe me, I know I am.  But that doesn't lessen the anguish I feel.  Having living children does not lessen the pain or the emptiness I feel over the loss of the two little boys that I will never know in this lifetime.

Please stop telling me that God has a plan.  I don't think there is a 'plan' good enough for any mother or father in the midst of their grief to justify having to bury their child.  What great lesson do you think I am suppose to learn from this?  Did I not learn enough after I buried my first son? 

Please stop asking if I'm depressed as if the answer is something unexpected.  What do you think the answer is?  There is no quick fix for the state of my being. 

I watched and felt two perfect, little boys die in my arms because my body couldn't protect them.  Can you imagine wondering if your child, the child you promised to protect, was in pain as they died in your arms? 

Can you imagine praying and pleading with God to not let them suffer and hurt?  There is no pill that can erase those memories or those fears from my mind or my heart. 

Can you imagine having to tuck your crying child in at bedtime because their heart hurts from missing the little brother they will never, on this earth, get the chance to play with, laugh with, fight with, or get to know?  That was my evening.  And to say it was hard doesn't even begin to capture how it feels.

Please don't try to figure this all out for me.

Please just listen. 

Please tell me you care.

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Today, as I picked tomatoes from our over-grown, jungle of a garden, I tried to hide my tears behind my sunglasses, but my sweet, 6 year old Gavin, busted me. 

He asked, "Momma, are you crying?"  As I wiped the tears from my eyes, I said "Yes, sweetie.  I'm crying."  He asked me why I was crying.  He asked if something happened.  I just told him I was sad.  My sweet Gavin then said, "I know why you're sad.  You're sad because we lost our son..."

I wish I could shelter our boys from this pain, but at times, I simply can't.  Today was one of those days.