Take a look into my soul

Disclosure: This is going to be an awfully long blog, so you have been warned! I hope you stick with it and read it because it is coming straight from my heart.

Last night, was a bad, great, sad, angry, and everything in between night.

I was so excited yesterday to receive Angie Smith's book "I Will Carry You." I have read Angie's blog faithfully and even though I don't know her personally, I feel like I do. She has inspired me in more ways than I will ever be able to type into this blog.

I poured myself into this book as soon as I got it yesterday. I couldn't wait to read it, and it hasn't disappointed AT ALL. You should totally read it. She says in her book that through all of her trial of knowing she would lose her child that she kept saying to herself "He is Enough." Wow. What an honest, humble, and completely selfless thing to say. "He is Enough." Here you are fighting for your unborn child's life, who every medical professional has said will not live, but yet, you cling to this one small statement.

The book goes on to say that she went to a doctor's appointment and they advised a C-section because without one, they feared the baby would "not be born whole." Seriously? I can't get the image out of my head on that one. So she said she went home and poured over the calendar and circled April 7. She said, "We had to decide the day our daughter would die." Re-read that sentence. Angie and her husband Todd had to decide what day their daughter, Audrey Caroline, would die. They were choosing the day that she would come into and leave this world. I can't even begin to wrap my head around that.

Reading last night brought out a lot of emotions in me. I broke down in what was to become an emotional rollercoaster that I would ride for the next few hours.

I cried, hollered, wailed, and fought. I cried for Angie, I cried for Audrey. I cried for Keith, who was sitting there with this look of fear on his face, but never once let go of my hand...and when I got to over heated and started "bahoffing" as my dad says, he got me some ice water and a wet towel. I cried for Jay, the friend we lost in 8th grade. Wondering "where would he be today?" I cried for Josh, the only other guy I would have ever considered marrying instead of Keith. I cried for Josh's wife and his sweet baby girl that looks just like him, and prayed that she would know her fathers love and how great he was. I cried for an unspoken reason. I cried to just cry.

But mainly, I cried for my Emile.

Emile's brother, Stephen, he saw him. He saw Emile. And Emile said "I am ok, don't worry about me." The jealousy that consumed me was unbearable. Why didn't I get that? Why didn't I get to see Emile? I believe whole-heartedly that Stephen was more deserving than I to receive such a special encounter in his dreams. After all, that is his brother. But I am his Nay Nay. I am the one who his parent's entrusted him to for more than 6 years. Why didn't I get to see him? I was angered, hurt, and jealous. A combination no one likes. Don't misunderstand, I do see Emile in my dreams, but more along the lines of things we used to do, I dream about the times on the boat in New Roads and Emile skiing. Or playing Guitar Hero and Emile once again schooling me on how bad I was at it. Or, Emile singing along with Solid Gold Saturday Night....."He stopped loving heeerrrrrr today...." In that sweet, sweet voice.

As I lay in bed, I asked God why did he take Emile. I begged Him to explain it to me. Ok, more like demanded. I demanded God tell me why. Why he was never gonna be the god father to my child, why was he never gonna graduate high school, why was he never going to LIVE. I was angry, and I tried to tell myself that there was a greater plan than my plans. And that "He is Enough." But, that wasn't enough last night. I begged God to let me see Emile, I begged him to let Emile tell me himself that he was ok. I said "Lord, please let me see him so I can have peace. Let me know he is ok so I can have peace Lord. I just want to know he is safe." For those of you that were at the funeral, or know me. One of the things that upset me the most was that Emile was in that casket alone, and he was put in the ground, alone. In the cold, hard ground. Now, I know Emile wasn't there, it was just his shell. But still the thought of the "shell" that I loved so dearly was in the ground, tore me to shreds. And everyone told me that. But even now the thought of him in the ground makes me shutter. Especially on the cold days we had in Jan and Feb. I would have loved nothing more than to wrap him up, cause he was always cold.

So I prayed. And prayed. And tired to listen to what the Lord was telling me. And in the midst of that, I fell asleep.

I haven't slept well since Emile died. Because each night as I lay in bed, I think about it. I think about the accident, how if only I could have been there. Would that have made a difference? I know better, I know that it wouldn't have, because the Lord wanted him then. But I still wonder....... Or....is he ok? Is he making friends in Heaven? Does he have a guitar? A bow? Is there deer in Heaven? So I go to sleep each night with a heavy heart. For myself, for my family.

But last night, I slept. I slept HARD. Let me explain: I am used to waking up multiple times at night, I switch pillows multiple times at night, and I am not meaning I turn them over to the cold side. No, I literally have 1 pillow under my head, and 2 more on the floor and all night long I wake up, and switch them out. I get up to use the restroom. I wake up to look at the time. I wake up because I am somehow afriad I am smothering my sweet Sophie who is cuddled next to me.

But last night, I slept. I never woke up, woke up with the same pillow I went to sleep with, never went to the bathroom, never dreamed (and everyone knows I have CRAZAY dreams), AND slept through 2 alarms this morning. Keith said I couldn't even be woke up for him to tell me bye.

Did God answer MY request to see Emile? No. Did He answer the request for peace? Yes. He gave me my answer. Not by seeing Emile. But giving me rest. I woke up this morning feeling better than I have in a long time. I slept and in sleeping, I knew that Emile was where he was supposed to be, and that he was ok. And in that, I slept.

Today, I will move from our apartment that we have lived in the past year. I will never again sleep in the bedroom that the phone call that pierced the silence of the night and told me the worst news of my life. Today, I will hopefully begin healing. I have been waiting for it to happen. My dad was telling me the other day how good I was doing. And I pasted a smile on my face and agreed but what he didnt' know, and what no one knew is that I was far from ok. It's easy to pretend. It's much harder to really tell people how you feel. But you know, why should I burden my family who is also grieving with my grief? But today, I hope to begin healing.

I know Emile is sitting here beside me right now. I can feel his prescence. And if I sit still long enough, I can almost hear his voice and feel his touch.

I am changed. I will never be the same. But I am changed and it is for the better. I am learning a new found following of God. I am eager to go to church and listen to the Word. And I am eager to do my Bible study.

I thank Emile and Angie Smith.

Sorry for this long blog. If you read all of it, I thank you. I thank you for reading in to the bottom of my sole. Please pray for me as I continue this journey.