Sometimes I think it's so unfair that we lost our son, but then I believe deep in my heart that I have God to thank for His gift - our son. I miss my son, and at times I still think about all the things that we were not going to do with Briar.

What bugs me now is, we are faced with another trial. What is His plan for this?

I have been thinking about this, and although I have not really prayed hard enough to hear His answer, these thoughts popped in my mind : maybe this is one way God is preparing us to become parents who will appreciate our children better - making us better parents. It is also God's way to making our relationship closer, tighter, and more loving. It is also God's way to making us realize how we value each other and that we should value each other.

Being raised as a Catholic, and learning about God and Jesus - I believe in the statements I made above. And knowing that, it makes me think that God is not cruel at all.

Is this rationalizing to fool myself? I hope not, FAITH is all I have to believe in those thoughts. Come to think of it, "bad situations" will either bring you closer to God and make your faith stronger OR will make one blame God and thus lose whatever belief they had before.

Sometimes, it's sad to think that people blame God whenever something bad happen to them, but then when things are going well, they don't even think that these blessings are from Him.

It breaks my heart to hear of another mom&dad who lost their child due to stillbirth. This following article describes the journey of a couple who lost their daughter at 33weeks. She is their first child.

http://www.charlotte.com/441/story/389812.html

I find the following also describes us/how I feel (all emphasis below mine):

For 8 1/2 months we dreamed about the day our daughter would be born. What route would we take to the hospital? How nervous and excited would we be? Instead, we were making the trip like this.

When we got there, they induced the birth and we spent the next 19 hours waiting for Porter Ann to arrive. Family started showing up, and we did what we could to get through the time.

Porter Ann was born still at 9:25 a.m. on Wednesday Sept. 5.

They took her away for a few minutes and then brought her back wrapped in a blanket. Before that moment, we had no idea whether we should hold her. How could we bear to look upon our little girl while she was lying there lifeless?

Ryan worried: Would it be morbid? Sandra wondered: Would it be too painful? Should we try to distance ourselves from her and spare ourselves from becoming too attached?

We soon realized that we were already attached. She was a part of our lives, and we needed to hold her, to look upon her beautiful little face. She had her daddy's eyes and her mommy's nose.

Holding Porter Ann was the most horrible moment in our lives. And the greatest.

We held her for 15 or 20 minutes. We hugged her and kissed her, trying to take in every detail and memorize every little feature so that we would forever have her pictured in our minds. We said hello ... and goodbye.

We left the hospital that afternoon carrying a memory box containing only a few photographs, her hand and foot prints, and a pretty little dress donated by Calvary Baptist Church.

[snip]

Going on without her

We spent the next two weeks at home, visiting with family and taking time for ourselves. Friends and colleagues brought food and a few called to check on us regularly.We both eased back into our daily lives, where more difficulty awaited. We started to receive social calls from friends again, and even mustered up enough strength to go out to dinner a few times. At work, we spent hours simply staring at computer screens. Attending social events such as children's birthday parties or meeting with friends to watch a football game proved to be trying.

Many people left us alone. A few offered their condolences, but most steered clear of contact during these past few months. Others would carry on and talk with us as if nothing had happened. They either didn't want to hurt us, didn't know what to say or were afraid of saying the wrong thing, which a few did.

Several well-meaning people said: "You can try again." Many people asked Ryan: "How is Sandra doing?" as if she was the only person grieving.

Others clearly expected that this was something they felt we could get over quickly and move on with our lives.

As parents, we will never "get over" the loss of our daughter. We will think about her every day and always hold her in our hearts. Another child will never be able to replace her. Nothing will ever erase the hopes we had for Porter Ann. And nothing can ease the pain of a lifetime of memories that will never be created.

Finding solace, comfort

We have found much solace and comfort from the many others who share in our pain through the MISS Foundation, a nonprofit support group for grieving families who have lost a child of any age. We look back now on those two days with many regrets and a lot of what-ifs. There was just so much we didn't know. And some things we wish we had done differently.

We would have held Porter Ann longer. We would have bathed her, we would have dressed her, we would have invited friends and family members to come visit her.

We would have taken dozens of pictures and we would have had a clergy member come and baptize her. What sounded morbid to us at the time, we now realize, are healthy ways to grieve.

But most of all, we would have spent more than those brief 15 to 20 minutes that we did spend with her. We would have spent another night in the hospital and had her sleep by our side.

I am so glad that the hospital was able to contact a church and that a priest was able to come over to pray with us and to pray over Briar and us. I do regret too that I didn't hold Briar longer. I should have held him without the blanket to feel his body, to smell his scent.

How to react

Common misconceptions or hurtful comments that the couple experienced or heard from other parents:

You'll have another child.

At least you didn't get to know him/her.

It's better this way; the child didn't suffer.

It wasn't meant to be.

You should move on or get over the loss.

Things you can say or do to help a family whose child was stillborn:

Ask about their child.

Listen to them talk about their child.

It's OK to speak the child's name.

Call or write often; don't shy away. Bereaved parents need support.

Share your own feelings of grief and pain over the loss.

Do not expect parents to "not think about it" or to "be happy.

I wish I can stop hurting. I have heard from my "sisters" in SG that some friends and family want them to move on and stop "moping" (my words) - stop being sad. Same as with them, I have been looked at funny because I'm still sad and hurting from the loss of my son - as if to say, "it's been 4 months you should be ok by now". I guess I shouldn't expect from them. Sometimes, you can't know how it is unless you've been there, and/but I don't wish that this should happen to them so they'll know how it feels like.

How I wish I can tell them to feel lucky that they don't know this feels like, that means they haven't gone through this. I guess I can still tell them that.

Praise God for His goodness, Glory to God in the highest.

Things are not well right now and, I am filled with worry and fear.  For some, if they are in my shoe, they might be angry at Him and reject Him.

I just need to believe in Him and I pray for His blessings.  I pray for things to be well again.

Today is the 4th month since Briar went to heaven.

I know he's happy there.  I know I'll see him again someday - all grownup and handsome.

I miss my beautiful baby.  I love you baby boy.

I don't know where this came from, but a friend of mine has forwarded this "letter" to me.  It is very touching, so  I thought I'd post it here. 

A letter to my mother
My darling Mother
Having a mother like you while growing up was the greatest gift and biggest advantage anyone could ever have given me. It is because of the confidence and values that you instilled in me that made me who I am today. Thank you for shaping me into a person who I like and am proud to be. Thank you letting us believe that we could be whoever we wanted to be, do whatever we wanted to do, there were no limitations except our drive, ambition and creativity.
Having you in my life through out my infertility has been a literal life and sanity saver for me. If there was a text book on how to be the perfect mother to an infertile daughter, it would have you as the role model.
Thank you for your unwavering support through out my journey.
Thank you for reading all the books that I read, thank you for learning about a world that must be so foreign to you.
Thank you for taking me to hospital and sitting with me through all those retrievals and transfers, remember how excited we were for our first one? You are much more calming than having Marko huff and puff next to me.
Thank you for meeting HdrH, for always taking an interest in what we were doing.
Thank you for taking me to acupuncture after transfer when I couldn’t drive, thank you for sitting there with me.
Thank you for holding my hand when I had my D&C, for crying with me afterwards.
Thank you for always having hope for me when I didn’t have for myself.
Thank you for telling me not to give up when I said I couldn’t do it any more.
Thank you for never giving up on me when I went through that dark period, when I shut every one out of my life. When loving me must have been like trying to hold a cactus. Thank you for loving me through all of my rejections of help and love.
Thank you for always thinking about how Marko must be feeling, so many people forget about him because he doesn’t talk much.
Thank you for sending me that text message on the day your other daughter gave birth saying “I know this day must be very hard for you, thinking of you, I love you”. Thank you Mother, that message helped me so much.
Thank you for mediating in the relationship with my sister, I know it must be very hard for you to be stuck in the middle of the tension that was between us. Thank you for never taking sides, for being there for both of us equally, for being the perfect mother and grandmother to your very fertile daughter, and being the perfect mother and pillar of strength to your very infertile daughter. I can’t wait for my kids to love you as much as my nieces and nephew do. They love their Mimi very much.
Thank you for saying to me, with your whole heart, that you would love my child 100%, even more, no matter where that child came from, whether DE or adoption.
Thank you for going with me to nearly every scan when I was pg with Luke and Ben, you were with me for my first scan, when we found it was quads, you supported me through out my decision to reduce, even though I know it was very hard for you.
Thank you for coming to visit me when I was in hospital after having lost Luke, thank you for sitting there in the chair, either entertaining me with stories from home or just sitting quietly. Thank you for washing my underwear, for bringing me books, special treats. You gave me some dignity. Thank you for bringing the nurses vegetables from the garden, I was their favourite patient.
Thank you for driving all the way from home to take me to my scans.
Thank you for loving Ben so much while he was still inside.
Thank you for rushing through to me when I went in labour, thank you for being there, I needed you there. All I wanted was my husband and my mother there.
Thank you for loving him so much while he was alive.
Thank you for loving him still. For never forgetting about him.
Thank you for taking me to those appointments at the breast feeding clinics, where we both sat and cried while I told my story about my little boy in hospital.
Thank you for having his picture in your bedroom, pride of place amoung the rest of your grandchildren. For always talking about him, for crying with me and on your own about him. Thank you for reading all the grief books I got, for getting books of your own and giving them to me to read.
And oh God Mother, you never got to hold him, never got to touch him, our special boy. The one we watched get bigger and bigger in my tummy, the one we loved so much. That’s not right Mother, you never got to hold him. Remember how proud we were of him when he used to roll around and kick on the scans. Remember how we laughed when we saw his bits, how you told Dad and Paul that our boy has big balls.
Thank you for being there for me, when other people didn’t know what to do with me or for me when I was so raw with grief. Marko used to drop me off at your house because I couldn’t even stand any more, I couldn’t breath any more, I was so full of pain. You just sat and held me and let me cry and wail. You let me be raw.
Thank you for taking me to the hospital for sedation when it all got too much for me. I felt like a helpless child, thank you for taking charge. I know you were grieving too, for your grandchild and for your child, but you had to be strong for me, thank you.
Thank you for the text message you sent me that said “walking in the garden, looking at the beautiful flowers and thinking of our boy Ben” a few weeks later.
Thank you for the flowers and beautiful card I got from you on mother’s day this year that said “to a special mother of a special boy”. Thank you for doing this when other people couldn’t look me in the eye. When people told you not to because I wasn’t a mother. Thank you for standing up for me, for telling them that I was. For thinking of me on a day where I should have been celebrating you.
Thank you for loving Kate and Adam as much as I do.
Thank you for meeting me at the Dr’s rooms two weeks ago when I thought something was wrong.
Thank you, for every thing you have done for me, thank you for every thing you have said, and for all the times when you said nothing and just listened.
Thank you for being my good luck charm, my muse, my hero, my savior, my therapist, my chauffeur, my cook, and now my bedrest nurse.
Thank you for being such a wonderful mother when your own mother never held you, never told you she loved you. Thank you for being so wonderful when your own childhood was so hard, your mother was so hard. I am so sorry you never got to experience how wonderful it is to have a loving caring mother. Thank you for not allowing the cycle to repeat itself, it could have happened so easily.
Thank you thank you thank you. For a million things, for everything. I don’t know what I would do without you. There are so many many more things, small things, big things.
I love you very very much, if I could be half as good a mother to my children as you are to your children, I will have done exceptionally well.
Thank you mother, I love you, more than words can ever express.

Though I may have "seen" a little from the past months, I haven't really seen the big picture of what He wants me to learn or what His plans are to what happened.

They say not to ask WHY.

Deep in my heart, I believe, there are some things I will not know the answer.   And I know that in His time things will happen.  I believe too that He answers prayers - it may be "Yes", or "No, I have other plans for you" or "Not Yet".  But sometimes, I just can't help but ask Why, What for?

Ok, Lord, I give up.

I give you everything, and let you lead.

I have always believed that God finds a way to communicate with us to answer our questions, our prayers. It's not just from the Bible but from other people, situations/circumstances in our life. I never thought it will come from a television show.

I don't watch Little House on the Prairie (although I might have had when I was very young), but for some reason, today, I didn't change the channel when it started.

The scene was, the Dad woke up in the middle of the night, found out there was a tornado getting closer to their property, he woke up his family (wife and 3 daughters) and get them all to their "safe" house (not basement). He went back to the barn to free the horses and cow(s?). The woke up next morning to find out a calf died, their chickens are dead, the whole crop destroyed, barn and house need repairs badly. The Dad, having had enough of this every year, couldn't take it anymore. And said in despair, that he never hurt anybody, he has followed His teachings and what He wants done - why is this happening to them? He doesn't have any strength anymore, he's tired. He has given up. His wife observed that he's angry at God.

I can't remember everything he said, but I was very surprised to hear it - because at some point I have uttered those same words.  I got angry at God at some point, albeit very very briefly, for taking our son from us.  But that was the selfish in me feeling that, because I know Briar was His gift for us and He has a different plan for Briar.

One of the daughters in the show went to the church and talked to the priest/pastor about what happened, and the pastor told her, "God sometimes does not intend to save us from mishap but to give us the courage to get through it." - or something like that...

It's a touching show/episode.  It stirred something inside me and it has opened my eyes.

Oh, if you are interested in knowing how the show went...

The dad has decided to go back home and sell the farm.   The children don't want to leave.  The day or two after the tornado, a couple in their sixties or seventies, came in and offered to buy the farm with a condition that the dad will help him fix up the barn and house since he's too old to fix it up himself.  The farm was the couple's first property after they got married, and they regretted leaving the farm.  On the last day before the family was to leave the farm, the dad realized that he made the decision by himself and has not even consulted his wife about it.  And he realized that he was not the only one affected by what happened but the whole family.  They decided they will stay in the area and buy a small property.  The old man have been having second thoughts after he talked to one of the daughters.  He knew how it felt like when they left the property and he doesn't want the family to feel the same way.  His wife said, she'll be happy where he is, wherever he decide to stay.   The family kept the farm, the dad's faith was restored.