The sky was painted for me last night.
How do I know it was painted for me? Because of all the colors in the universe, he chose his favorite two. The two that decorated his room: orange and blue. He spilled them out for me as he guided and protected me on my way back home. Instead of finger paintings on the fridge, Jensen paints the whole sky for me.
On the eve of his nineteenth week in heaven, I cried during the long, seven hour drive home. All weekend I thought how my trip to Philadelphia and Atlantic City would be different if Jensen would have accompanied us. I thought of the frequent stops we would be making to feed and change him. Trying to figure out how I would carry him up the narrow staircase in the Edgar Allen Poe museum. I could hear the stroller bouncing off the boardwalk as we walked down. He would have felt sand for the first time in his blue and white striped swim trunks. We would take a selfie with the George Washington statue at Valley Forge. then his excitement when we would get home and he’d see his daddy after a few days away. All these thoughts and visions danced in my mind as I drove home.
I just kept asking why. Why my son? Why was Jensen taken away from me when he was so loved and wanted? Why did this happen to me? Why did I deserve this? Why do I have to be driving alone? Why did this happen when we did everything right? Why him when people literally throw their babies away? Why does all this pain exist? Why do babies die? Why was Jensen meant to be an angel? Why couldn’t I have a sleepy nineteen week old baby in his carseat? Why God me? Why am I being tested? Why did I have to be tested by this? Why is this my life? Why Jensen? Why?
Then I looked up, through the tears and I saw his painting in the sky.
As hard as it is to say, these whys will never be answered. I know I’ve said it before, but there’s no reason a baby should die. Even if you believe in God and faith or karma or whatever you believe, there’s no explanation for the death of a baby. It is so hard to accept that or to try to reason that out to myself. I’ve always believed if you do good things, good things will result from that. There was no bad in Jensen. He was innocent, beautiful, and perfect. So, obviously in the mind of this bereaved mother, I must have done something while I was pregnant to do this. But the fact is, I didn’t. I did everything in my power to enable Jensen to grow and be prosperous. We prepared our surroundings and readied ourselves for him. Most importantly, if there was anything I could have done to save him, I would have. Over and over again.
In that day long moment of weakness while driving, he reached out to me. I can hear him saying, “Mom, look. I’m safe and thriving. I can even paint the whole sky just for you.”
Nineteen weeks into this grief, I’m coming to a point where I don’t think there’s an end to this pain, maybe an ease but no end. Simply because losing a child affects a person for a lifetime. It’s not something you just get over, just like there’s no reason a baby should die. I guess right now that puts me in a weird position. There’s no way I’ll ever get Jensen back in this life, but I can’t just die to be with him. So here I am, floating in grief and life. Trying to trust in this plan and journey that I’m on. I’m trusting that there has to be some good that comes from pain and longing. It is a complete blind and unwilling trust, but it’s all I have. There is nothing else to hope for besides believing this all-powerful force whom I’m having a very hard time trusting right now, hasn’t turned His back on me.
Then I see Jensen’s own way to finger paint. How can I trust in this journey when I see what’s created for me? It doesn’t take away this pain of Jensen not being here or the fact I’ll never understand all the whys, but I have an angel cheering me on every single day. He continues to show me he loves me even when the pain is so unbearable. That’s what love cures, that’s what I have to go on.
Love. Loss. Trust. Believe. Faith.
Jensen Grey, you paint the most beautiful pictures I have ever seen. The colors in the sky are more than just orange and blue, they’re your story of love. I can only imagine the colors you see as you celebrate being nineteen whole weeks old. Celebrate as much as you can because every milestone you hit should be a party for you in heaven. Each week I hope I’m sending up all the love you could ever want and more. I miss you. I love you. Never ever forget.