Alive

Just referring to my previous entry – no long entry at this point, but yes, we’re as ok as we can be right now. My emotions are gone, he’s being himself but a bit worse, and everything seems horrible. But it will sort itself out. My mind knows this, the rest of me will have to catch up sometime in the future.

The past few weeks have been something I never wanted to have to go through…ever. The last week, when I get upset, I’ve randomly thought “I want my son back.” I know it can’t happen, and I know who he is with.

As Easter got closer, the thought came more and more often, and frequently my mind has turned to the fact the God lost his son as well. It’s something I’ve known, something I’ve thought about since the day we drove to the hospital to be induced.

I began asking a few days ago – on Easter, just as Jesus arose from the dead, could something just show me that my son is still “alive,” not here, in Heaven, but that he was alive.

Last night, after my husband came home, we sat outside in the dark for a long while. Talking, I cried. I kept looking to the sky, wishing to see Ben. I cried, praying to God, please just let me see my son once.

I imagined him with little angel or butterfly wings. I knew this wouldn’t happen, but maybe a dream. I haven’t been dreaming since we knew he died.

I became desperate last night, moreso than I have been, just for a glimpse of what he might have been later, if he’d been born alive.

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This morning, I remember wishing this time…again that I might have some sign that Ben is alive and cared for, happy and aware of us.

On the way out of the house to church, I told my husband to get everyone in the van, that I needed to take my medicine quick before we left.

When I reached for my glass, I noticed a small bug sitting on the rim. This isn’t unusual, we live in the country and we always seem to have random bugs.

But then it turned it head and looked at me, and I realized that it was a praying mantis. A tiny, brown, baby praying mantis. I’d never seen a baby before. I called my husband to look, and showed the kids, then let it go outside.

Yesterday afternoon, on our way to town, Dave and I had had a conversation about praying mantes, how they were the only bug I really couldn’t bring myself to kill. Mostly because they could turn their heads independent from their body, and look at you, as if they were intelligent.

Now I realize that we have had an adult brown mantis living here for a while, and that some may say it was a coincidence (my husband may be one). But it seemed so fitting a way to know that on the same day God’s son was brought back to life, so was our son, in a way.

It brought me some joy that I had thought I wouldn’t feel for a while.

Thank you, God.

And Happy Easter.