Why me?

The inevitable question that at some point most people ask them selves during their lifetime, why me?  After you say goodbye to your child it has to be a natural question to think about.  Why did I lose my baby? Why do other's get to have theirs a lifetime, when all I have is a moment?  Did I do something wrong? Did I deserve this?  There are people out there who are horrible parents, use drugs, abuse or neglect their kids, and here I am, able to give my child a loving home and they aren't even able to live there.  You cannot help but question the reason you were one of the ones to know what it is like to experience losing a child.  Blaming God, questioning his motive as to why awful parents get to keep such beautiful children that they take for granted when you are left empty handed.

In rough times sometimes you think "God does not give you more then you can handle".  But is that true?  Have you ever thought maybe we picked this journey ourselves?   Knowing what this life would entail and choosing to be a part of it?  It is an interesting idea that maybe back before we were born, before we can remember somehow we chose this journey.  Did we draw straws and some people got short sticks?  Did we pick our own earthy life and destiny? Or did God say this will be your life, you can handle it?

I questioned why me after Emery's diagnoses.  Why would I not be able to raise my son?  Why was he going to have such a short life? And why did this have to happen to me?  Everyone knows life isn't fair, maybe that is it?  It is a haunting question though, why me?  Why anything? What makes us who we are?  Is it all a matter of experience?  Did I have to lose my son in order to have the future I will have?  Was it to meet someone? Or to do something to change my world or someone else's? Why did I lose my son? Why me?

It isn't a bad thing to question why, it is what helps make us into the people we are.  Where I have ended up with all the questioning I have done about life, Emery's and my own is, I don't think I deserved this to happen to me.  I don't think I am being punished or that it isn't fair that I don't get to have him in my home to raise and to grow up with his sister.  I don't think I got the short stick or that God hates me.  I think it was an experience that was mine from the start.  Whether I picked it, or it was picked for me.  It is part of my journey to help shape my future, my family's future and maybe help teach a few friends some things along the way.  My son was sent to us with a mission.  To show us love, and how to love.  He has helped to shape us as people and to shape my future.  In a very strange way this was a gift.  He taught me thing I could have never learned if he hadn't been "sick" or died.  I would never chose to let my son die, if I could have EVER done anything differently. But he has been a true angel in my life, guiding me towards a new found happiness and strength I wasn't aware existed in me.

I would never wish anyone to lose a child, as a baby or older.  Parents are supposed to be buried before their children.  But maybe I am asking the wrong questions here.  Maybe I shouldn't be asking why me, instead maybe I should be asking why not me? Because the death of my son has blessed me in ways I couldn't imagine, and I thank God for his short life, but incredibly powerful impact.  How lucky am I that my son was a true angel, in the eyes of his mother and the eyes of God.