“Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shine down upon us to let us know they’re happy.”

 

 

 On Monday night, Tiffany & I went to a support group meeting at one of the hospitals out here for parents who have lost a child. When we arrived, we found out that they were having an annual candlelight visual. I was already having a hard time going to the group and this was really difficult for me. I found myself getting really angry. As people spoke, they used words like “baby died”. I know Elliston is gone, but I still can’t use those words. I don’t even call her service a funeral. They hold the support group on the first Monday of every month. We plan on going again. It’s been over a month since we lost her and it still feels like everything happened last week. 

 

   We had an ultrasound the day before we lost Elliston. Her heart rate was a strong 151. Since she was born, we’ve found out that due to the knot in her chord & it being around her neck, had her ultrasound been done just a few minutes earlier or later, it probably would’ve shown a lower heart rate, raised concern, and she’d probably be here with us today. This is where I am stuck. Angry with God. It wouldn’t have taken an earthquake. Just something simple, like the ultrasound tech needing to pee or me not finding my keys for five minutes. There is a David Bazan song that keeps resonating with me called, “When We Fell”. “When you set the table & when you chose the scale. Did you write a riddle that you knew they would fail? Did you make them tremble? So they would tell the tale. Did you push us when we fell? What am I afraid of? Whom did I betray? In what medieval kingdom does justice work this way? If you knew what would happen and made us just the same, then you my Lord can take the blame.” I know these words seem harsh or may scare some of my family & friends. I’m not denouncing my religion or anything. I feel threatened to be a Christian now. “If you don’t stay on the right path, I’ll send you to hell and you won’t get to see your daughter.” Several years ago, when Tiffany & I were going through marriage counseling, she said, “I’m so mad & hurt that I don’t want Colby around. But, I love him so much & when I’m mad & hurt, he’s the only person I want around me”. That’s kind of how I feel. My friend Chad told me my soul is in a kind of civil war. All of these are great examples. I’m angry at God but run to him for guidance & support. It hurts to know I’ll never get an answer. Some people say, “You’ll understand when you get to Heaven”. Great! I have to die to get an answer. Sometimes it’s best to just not say anything, folks. I don’t mean to come across as bitter. At the end of the day, I’m a dad who misses his daughter. Some people may think that since we lost her just before she was born it doesn’t credit me as a father. I had 9 months of dreams & hopes for a little girl. 9 months of memories. She was stubborn. Music would calm her down or get her to look at us during the ultrasound. She was beautiful. While holding her in my arms, I was crying, & begging for God to make her take a breath. That’s what I have experienced as a father. I hold on to a small amount of hope for the future. We do want to get pregnant again. I don’t know when. We’re trying to place that in God’s hands.