hell..

It's nearly 9pm here and I'm still in bed. I slept through the light until it was dark again. Bad day always follows a good one. John has been out all day and I just punched him in the stomach with his permission as he arrived home to rouse me. need to write. need to scream. need to throw something. need God. need you. need to not have miscarried. need my little princess.

I opened the laptop and the light from the white page that was open completey blinded me. My body has a slow reaction time; my pupils took longer than they should have to adjust to the light. The only thing that still works and never needs to catch up to reality is my heart. Completely aware of how broken it is, it keeps beating the way it's supposed to, despite my offspring not having that ability.

I stayed up late organizing pictures on facebook and looking at all the other mommies pages with a prism of flowers in every color. Each one of those flowers you see represents a baby who has died. Such a beautiful array to represent the ugliest reality that exists in this world. A reality that is my life. Blinded by it every time I open my eyes, whether there is a white screen in front of me or not.

I noticed a heartbreaking but very touching video on one of the pages called "When a Baby Dies." It's a narrative explaining to people who haven't lost a child (those who I have deemed "the clueless", lucky you, no offense, I used to be clueless too). I navigated away from that page, so I went back to youtube to try to find it.

Stupid move.

Searching for "when a baby dies" found a video of a person who says he is a Calvinist. He claims that the bible clearly states that when babies die, they go straight to hell.

I just had to pause for a few minutes, my hand over my mouth, and let that sink in again. I can't believe someone would have the audacity to make such a statement. I wrote recently how there are some non-Christian feelings that come to my mind that I am not proud of. Here comes another one.

This man is the ONLY human being in the history of the entire universe who I hope suffers the loss of a baby. I hope that sweet, innocent baby who I just shamefully cursed goes straight to heaven without a nanosecond of pain, but that its father suffers a long lifetime of mental anguish and agony believing that his precious is burning in hell, in addition to the emptiness and grief that ensues while he misses that baby every waking second, and sometimes in his sleep too. Maybe that lifetime of pain will equal up to all the pain he's caused his viewers.

I am so ashamed. Now I am suffering the relentless guilt I talked about after an episode like that. But that is how bad he made me feel, and I know in my darkest hours, I will go back to that. Picturing my sweet baby anywhere other than paradise, worrying that this man could be right; it's a new level of disturbing pain and probably the cause of my sadness laced with so much anger today.

There is some relief for my wounded heart. I wrote something that I quickly erased because I knew I didn't truly feel that way. I said that when this man gets to hell, his agony will be a million fold because he'll realize after a lifetime of relentless grief, he will realize his baby isn't there. I think, if Kathlyn is in Hell, that I wouldn't mind being there, at least we'd be together, but this man won't be granted that shrivel of hope when he dies and goes to hell alone.

I erased it, because as hurt, baffled, and offended I was by this man's cruel and heartless video, I would never wish anyone, even him, to hell. My true hope for him is that he is a true believer, he goes to heaven, and realizes how wrong he was, and spends his time in heaven repenting for all the bereaved mothers he made the journey that much worse for.

He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 18: 2-4

And now, I want to stand up on this bed, grab the picture hanging above it, and smash it into a million pieces, reveling in the sound of broken glass.