Heart wrenching

I sat up last night and this morning reading these heart wrenching blogs from families that have lost their babies. I can't even image the pain these families are going though. The babies had such birth defects that they could not survive outside of the womb. But these amazing moms carried their babies as long as they could and gave birth, to hold them for a few precious moments before the babies would pass away. I am in awe of just how amazing and strong these women are. One thing they all had in common was this tremendous faith in god and his plan. I am so envious. I just don't have this "faith" in god's plan. These amazing women and their families find comfort in their faith and seem at such peace. I had a miscarriage between Griffin and Zachy. It was the hardest, most painful (mentally, physically, emotionally) thing that I have ever been though. I was just 12 weeks along but had seen the baby on the ultrasound (just a little "Speck") and saw the little flicker of its heart. As I have said to my husband at each pregnancy "Even if this baby never comes out of me. I am still its mother". I had already become "attached" to this baby. I had talked to it, tried to come up the names for it and really was in love with the little one. I tend to think more scientifically at things rather than thinking of gods plan. I understood that something wasn't right with the pregnancy and it was my body making the decision to end the pregnancy, but that didn't make it any easier. After losing the baby, I was a wreck. I just couldn't get it together. My days were just a haze of going though the motions to get the kids fed, bathed and bed. I cried all the time, I barely talked to anyone. The heartache was unbearable. My chest and breast ached at the thought of the baby. There was this huge emptiness. Nothing could fill it. No one made the hurt less. If I had the faith these mothers have maybe I could have healed quicker. Maybe it would have been somewhat easier (for a lack of a better word). I still think of the little baby that I lost. I my own mind I call him/her Speck. That was what we had referred to it after the ultrasound. When I think about the baby I tend to keep my thoughts to myself. I understand how awkward it is for people to hear about a loss of a baby and Jonny just doesn't understand the depth of my loss. He just didn't have the connection to the baby think I did. My loss was a miscarriage. The fetus didn't really look like a baby, but these women held their dying babies in their arms, at their chests, with their husbands and family. I really cannot put in to words my admiration of these women.
After my miscarriage we were blessed with Zachy. He doesn't take the place of the baby we lost, but he fills the hole just a little and gives us true joy everyday. I am thankful for the wonderful blessings that my 3 boys are. I hope that the families I have read about find a way to heal.