On Saturday, when I got to Wright Patterson AFB at 5:00 in the morning, I logged in on Facebook to "check-in" and let my husband know that I had made it up there safely. Of course, I took a quick scroll through my news feed, and immediately noticed that there were what seemed like hundreds of posts asking for prayers for a fellow mom in my mom-group.
I've never really met A in person, but we've been active on the same local message boards for years and we've crossed paths at the occasional large-group get-together. A and her husband worked hard at getting pregnant. They finally did, last year, and were expecting a girl. Sadly, her water broke at 18 weeks and they lost their precious daughter Addyston. A few months later, they became pregnant again, this time with a boy. Again, problems cropped up around the 18 week mark - they were able to stop labor for a while, but she delivered their son, Michael, at 24 weeks, the very edge of viability.
Michael continued to grow in the NICU, and made good progress. There were constant positive updates from A about when they were able to hold him for the first time, when he was able to breathe normal air, when he ate well, when he gained weight like they wanted him to - it really looked as though he was going to beat the odds and one day go home to his parents.
Then, last week, he took a turn for the worse. They weren't exactly sure what the problem was and tested and tested until they found out. Unfortunately, the news wasn't good. Little Michael fought for eight long weeks, but the fight ended early Saturday morning.
It's times like this that really make me ponder the whole faith issue even more. Why do such horrible things happen to such good people? In all the years I've known A, she has been nothing but nice, welcoming, friendly, kind-hearted, yet she has had to bury two of her babies in the past year. What kind of higher power could possibly allow that to happen? The faithful are quick to jump to the whole "everything happens for a reason" and "it's just part of the grander plan," but I just don't get it. And I'm ok with that. I'm good with where I am.
But then, at the same time, part of me almost wishes that I *did* get it - that I was so secure in just *knowing* that everything happens for a reason, and that Michael is playing happily with his sister in some kind of utopian afterlife.
Please keep A and her family in your thoughts and prayers. She is one of the strongest women I know.
And to think, I was upset about missing the 4:00:00 marathon mark. Hug your families. We are so lucky to have them.