Better off dead

It is like cancer, but it really isn't, like grieving the loss of a loved one, but not.

Two times over the past couple of days, someone has compared what I am going through to death. My counselor said that what I am working through is not much different than Will being diagnosed with terminal cancer. Now I have to work through that. But this is certainly different. This is not some random incident of chance. This is a choice. This is far beyond me dealing with issues of loss. It also encompasses feelings of rejection, betrayal, abandonment.

I have been in that place where I have had to deal with the pain of the unknown, the seemingly indiscriminate hand of fate. We spent 7 weeks in the NICU and more than once I wondered if my sweet baby was ever going to make it home. I wondered if she would be healthy or fully functional. I prayed. I wrestled with God. I begged him to intervene. I hoped. I came to a strange peaceful place. I knew that even though I was not in control of the situation, God was. My faith, however small, allowed me to have some respite and a hope for whatever the future would hold. I was certain then that was the hardest period of my life. I was so very wrong.

This is so much harder than anything else I have ever endured. If Will really did have a terminal disease, at least I would know that there is nothing that we could do to fix it. we would pursue every option, we would find the best doctors that we could, we would seek the most educated advice, and then, we would do just what we did in the NICU, wrestle with God, beg for intervention, and eventually find peace in the faith that we have. But this is so different. Together, we are not consulting the best counsel or even God. All of that is out the door. Will isn't leaving us to go "home." Will is leaving us to be with someone else. He has no desire to fix it. He has no interest in making things better. He doesn't believe in the healing power of our God anymore. He doesn't believe in the love that we had. He doesn't want to find a cure. He just wants to move on. It is that resignation to the situation that gives me the greatest amount of pain. All of the hurt, the pain, the rejection and betrayal could all be mended, if only we were willing to try.

Maybe it is because I know how much God can do. Maybe it is because we live with the miraculous reminder of God's ability to heal. Maybe it is because I have been so encouraged by friends whose stories reflect God's desire to restore marriages and families. Maybe it is because I am so desperate to fix it... to fix us. Whatever it is, there is something in me that refuses to give up, that clings to any strand of hope and wants to put God back in control of the situation and in the center of our marriage. I want to find a cure. I want to be healed. And I know of a great physician that can get us there, if only we would go to him. If only we could try...