I've been a little silent lately because I'm in a dark place. My goal in sharing our journey through Owen's life and dealing with is death was to encourage other parents going through the same thing we are. It's important to be real. People keep asking how we're doing, so I thought I'd share... We have a lot to be thankful for. God has provided a new city, a new home, new friends,and secure jobs for both of us. All of those things are important, but none of it seems to compare to the amount of sadness we feel. I want to tell people that I'm doing great and that I see God working in my life like never before, but the truth is I'm having a hard time seeing that right now. My heart is hurting deeply. I want my grief to be redeemed. I know it's possible, but I don't feel like it is.

I'm angry. I'm angry that thousands of people prayed for our son to be healed, and that God didn't answer our prayers. Why does he heal other babies but not ours? I'm angry that Owen's little body went through so much poking and prodding in his 43 days. I'm angry that our first experience of becoming parents was so extremely traumatic. I'm angry that we will go through another Mother's and Father's Day with empty arms. I'm angry that I have a hard time being happy for other people when they experience blessings. I hear stories of God's goodness in other people's lives because of Owen. It's great, but none of it seems worth his life. I'm angry that I feel this way and that it isn't getting any easier.

Every day I'm constantly on the verge of tears. I come home from work at night exhausted from trying to hold it together all day. I've been feeling angrier and sadder than ever before. We have a lot of annual events in the fall. Weekends with friends, birthdays, holidays... All of it is hard. This time last year we thought, "There will be an eight month old with us next year!" I bought cute little flannel shirts, moccasins, puffy vests, and hats last fall for Owen to start wearing now. I hate that he's not here to wear them. Birthdays and celebrations are darkened. It's hard to get excited and celebrate. I can't believe it's almost November. Life keeps moving forward, yet my heart feels scarred and frozen in a state of pain. I long for the innocence I once felt but never appreciated. My whole perspective on every single thing has changed.

I know that anger is one of the stages of grief, but I'm ready for it to pass. I'm angry at God, but then I remember that because of him, Owen has eternal life. It's a constant battle I face every day. My prayer is that Owen's life and death, and all of the trauma we faced during his life will make me a better. I don't want to be bitter. 

When Owen was alive, I posted updates on his caringbridge site. At the end of each post, I always listed blessings no matter how difficult the day was. God was present in our lives during Owen's life and cared for us in unexpected ways. He continues to bless us in unexpected ways. A friend encouraged me to continue to continue to write down all of the blessings I experience so I can see where God is in my grief. I know he's there to walk through this with me if I let him. 


  1. I'm hurting for you and with you and crying out to the Lord on your behalf. I love you.

  2. Thank you for posting this. Your grief is real. It's a natural emotion but one that feels ugly and uncomfortable. One counselor once described my depression as a trashcan stuffed with emotions, disappointments and anger. Eventually the lid was going to pop off if I didn't allow myself to feel and deal with its contents.

    In addition to being vulnerable you are putting words to emotions others feel but maybe afraid to express.
    God is using you and will carry you both through this rough, dry and parched place. You are a blessing Allison and I am thankful for you.

  3. Praying for your comfort and I second what Dorothy said- you are a blessing, a wonderful mother and a beautiful writer- honoring Owen in all of your words.

  4. Many prayers for you. I hurt for you, and feel the rawness of your anger and grief.
    Grief is a strange animal... there are days when it totally knocks me to the floor, and other days where I feel like I'm doing really well. My Theodore should have been 4 months old last week. Our losses were under very different circumstances, but it has made me so sensitive to the deep pain of others. I am so sorry for this pain that you have to go through. This holiday season will be rough. I hate that for you, and I hate that for me.
    Praying <3