Yes, I do have faith in God, and I truly believe He has a greater purpose for calling Calvin Phoenix. After I delivered Calvin, I decided that I would lay my son at His feet, that my first child, my son would be my Lenten sacrifice and that I would lift up all of my questioning and accept God’s will. But I am only human, and I am weak.
I am only human, and I am weak. And for the past few weeks, my low moments have sunken deeper and deeper to the point of wanting to give up. I feel aimless, purposeless. Though I still thank God everyday for allowing me the gift of Calvin’s life, I’ve been unwilling to submit to His will, and have continued to find blame in myself because it’s easier. I want to lift it all to Him, but I find myself feeling less grateful and more envious instead. I want to lift it all to Him, but I am faltering.
Even today, He has shown me that He holds me. While I was at work, I made a careless mistake while I was coding a stylesheet. This is my “mistake”:
When I arrived home from work, I found the photographs of Calvin that were taken at the hospital. Still I would not be appeased. Grateful as I was – and still am – to have those pictures of my baby boy, I still cried to Louie about wanting Calvin, about feeling like I’d lost a reason to live, and wanting God to help me understand His reason for taking Calvin, even if I know His purposes are not mine to know.
I cried and cried and cried. Until, blessed by the Holy Spirit, Louie asked me this: How do you want Calvin to see the way you lived your life?
This was my answer: I don’t ever want Calvin to think he brought sadness into my life.
I don’t want my son to feel like he ruined my life — Losing him did not ruin my life. That is my new will for living. That is my motivation. It is a reminder of what I wrote in a letter to Calvin Phoenix:
When I became pregnant with you, my life was for you and your daddy, and how I live for you is how I live for our Lord because He wants us to love others as He loves us and as we should love Him. Baby, that hasn’t changed. I still live for you and the hope of being with you again. All the good I do, you are the driving force, you are the reason and my way to Christ. Thank you for doing that for me, Calvin.
Though I am broken, I will praise Him, and recount the ways in which He has loved me and still does. Through my son, I am saved by Jesus Christ, and through my son, I will glorify Him.
As we cried together, Louie told me that he wanted to go egg hunting with Calvin. It seems like such a small act – to go hunting for Easter eggs with someone – but not when it’s lost to you. Things like that… things like changing his diaper or swabbing his umbilical cord with alcohol or waking up in the middle of the night to feed him… feeling his tiny hand wrap around my finger… hearing his voice, his cries, his coos, his giggles… We were just beginning to feel him move when I had my miscarriage.
