Thursday, March 28, 2013


Easter always reminds me of Dominic. It would have even if he had never died. I went into labor on Easter. Pascal was on our early list of names to consider for him. He was born early in the morning of Easter Monday.

This year Dominic would be turning 12, which is an important year for boys in the LDS Church - as they are then old enough to become a deacon and begin Aaronic priesthood responsibilities. Our youngest son is going to be 8, which is the age for baptism.Our oldest son is a Priest and so able to baptize, and could have conferred the Aaronic Priesthood on Dominic and ordained him a deacon.

It is just sort of an extra recognition of what isn't to be. It makes me sad. I usually get a little distracted by these sorts of feelings this time of year. It just seems a little heightened with the way things are right now.

A friend who helped us when Dominic was dying, and then died, had lost a son a few years earlier. They learned he died from a mitochondrial disease, which is what is believed our two children died from, also. Recently, our friend's little girl was diagnosed with the same condition, and she will only have a brief life here with them. It is so hard to know that their time together is limited. Seeing their struggle with it brings so much emotion and questions and just a lot to my mind. I wish I knew how more to help them through this. And I also just wish it wasn't there, selfishly, because it magnifies so much the feelings I have of losing my two little ones - our time with them even more brief, and without warning that they would be taken. And still no clear answers of what caused their deaths.
I've really been struggling with why God has answered prayers of others who ask to have some of their struggles lightened while they bear through some very difficult things. Why does he grant that to them, but in my pleas to know how to help Bridget and for help from doctors, my begging to have September 8, 2007, be one without incident and for healing in my grief for losing Dominic, and other very personal, yet specific requests I made to my Father... in so many things I asked for I still was asked to go through that crisis all over again with Bridget that we went through with Dominic. Relive the terror with yet another child. So intense and it still makes me heart race now thinking of it.

I was just watching this video:

It reminded me that Christ asked for things from our Father, too. He was already experiencing so many difficult things and also knew hard things were coming. He knew He felt so incredibly overwhelmed with it all, and asked for help to lighten the struggle as He bore through the most difficult act ever performed. Though he was overwhelmed, yet He overcame!

And I know God loves His son. And if God did not take it from Him, even a little bit, even in His perfection and asking in righteousness, that I cannot assume that my prayers were not heard, and that I was wrong to ask or somehow trying to contradict His will in my earnest desires to help my little one and avoid losing her and avoid having the terrible way it all happened happen again.

And when Bridget was in the PICU and I could not bear it, I just could not! The song during the sacrament meeting we attended - the exact hymn I can't recall - was about following the Lord's will. And then there was how I had my scriptures there with me, and months before I had asked the missionary at Temple Square for the scriptures that are read at the Christus, and I had been writing them all out when Bridget was just born and in the NICU. Then right behind that was the study manual I'd been using in my reading of the Old Testament - "Not My Will, But Thine Be Done."

I have been really hard on myself the last couple of days thinking how maybe my prayers weren't answered and I wasn't prepared for Bridget's impending crisis event and her subsequent death because I was not in tune enough to His spirit. That somehow I was not worthy. That I somehow inflicted all this terrible stuff and was not spared because I was doing something wrong, and that those who are granted reprieve (even if only a little bit) are somehow just more righteous than I.

It doesn't make it not hurt anymore. But it's insight that I need right now. And the celebration of Easter, and all that He suffered, means that there is hope. I don't understand at all the things in this life. The reason for the things we have been through, what lessons I am to learn, or how much more my family will face. That our community will face. What this world is going to go through. I just know He lived. And He died. And He lives. And I know that He loves me. And someday, the hope He has given us all will be fulfilled in a perfect measure. We will be robed in glories and rest from these troubles. And in the meantime, we will bear what we are here to bear.

I will keep asking for the strength to bear. For the courage to press forward. And for the heart that can be directed to ways I can help others to bear and press forward as well. This is Easter.

No comments: