The Heartfelt Prayer of a Mommy

Tough few weeks.

Last week Mark and I attended a monthly grief support groups especially for parents who have lost children. That was tough. Emotional. Hard. Disappointing in some ways.

Then this week our middle son, Alex, attended a 6 hour course in grief with a few other children his age. The program is designed specifically for his age group to teach kids his age about death, grief and the many emotions you go through. It's meant to show them that they are not alone and that what they are thinking or going through is normal and part of it all. It's also supposed to show them how to honor the one that passed on. So we've had to face Andrew's death head on this week for Alex. And that has been almost unbearable for both of us. But we think it's helped our son so that is good and worth it.

An odd memory returned to me tonight shortly after I got home with the boys. When I was with Andrew the last 24 hours of his life, I remember beginning to wonder if he would ever wake up again and look at me as he always did, with such love and then it would all be over. I really thought he was going to wake up and be normal. I suppose all parents do in those kind of situations.

Anyway, I remember at one point asking God to take me instead of Andrew. It didn't matter to me if I lived. I wanted him to live so much, that I remember clearly asking God that if someone had to die, to take me instead of Andrew. I remember crying I was so saddened that he was in such a state. He deserved a chance to live. He had hardly had the chance. And we had fought so hard for him. But in the end . . .

The memory came with such intensity that it really caught me off guard. I wasn't suicidal at the time or since then. But I had forgotten how I had cried out to God to save his little life. To spare him. How it didn't matter to me if I lived or not becuase his life was so valuable to me. He meant so much that I would lay mine down to save his. Something I would do for any of my children.

It was strange remembering that moment. How strongly I wanted to fight for his life and what I was willing to do to preserve it. I would have done almost anything to see him open his eyes, turn his head to me and look into mine as he had done thousands of times before. "Please God . . . Take my life and let him live."

But he still died anyway.