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I have scars I didn't have, physically. I have more cynicism and less Faith. I have more wisdom. I have a greater capacity to love my living children. I have a tighter than tight bond with my husband. I have a greater knowledge of how loved I am. I have a VERY different view of God and why he does and does not do some things. I am not as lighthearted about some things.

And really, I am finally learning to be ok with who I have become since that line in the sand of my life was drawn. There's a very different person on this side of the change, and I am settling into it.

Thank you for that verse, as I sit here at work nearly in tears. Beautiful. "A crown of beauty instead of ashes" What a gift.

My story is much the same. Knowing at 20 weeks that aside from a miracle, my son would not live. It was suggested to me that I abort too. In the end, as my son started to slip away still in me, I opted for an Emergency CSection. And even though he didn't have a chance, I never regretted that decision. I did everything I could and gave God every chance.

You put into words EXACTLY how I felt. My faith was tested and I was angry, but I was oh so fearful that He would take something else I loved away from me. So I kept silent. Four years later and I am closer to God. I pray that even though your faith has been tested by fire, you will be able to find your way closer than ever to God. (1 John 1:7)

I have been doing really well lately. When my son pulled up on the shelf next to our bed and pointed to his sister's picture and said, "that?" I was able to say with a steady voice, "that's your sister, honey."

I sought therapy after Gabriel died, conventional talk therapy with a psychologist I had seen before. (I'm an old hat at therapy.) For me it was a space to let my grief really rage, to be all-consuming. I started therapy about the same time that I started back to freelancing, which was a sign of moving forward with life — which as we all know is a difficult choice to make. My therapist was great, letting me work through my thoughts, fears, pain.

When Bad Things Happen to Good People, by Harold Kushner - I'm reading this one now and it's really been a great book for me. Like what scm said about Healing Through Dark Emotions, it's making me understand that my own loss is a natural part of life. The big picture helps keep things in perspective. It's also prompted me to reconsider my previous views on God and religion which is helpful on another level.

I must sit and chew on this for a while before I can articulate how my experiences sit with me. I'm still new to this. And old to this. Sixteen months ago I birthed Beckett. And 4 months ago I birthed Sullivan. And I had to introduce these cold, dead and beautiful boys to my living children and show them that no matter what life gives us we still can survive. I don't know how to do this on a number of days, but I do.

I had very strong, religious convictions before Emma died ... I have spent three and a half years wandering around in an agnostic, sad haze wondering just what my daughter is now and where she is. I am rediscovering my faith, gradually and differently and my response to that picture is different now to how it might have been just a few months ago. I feel privilege ... privilege that in the immensity of the universe, in the huge vastness .. she was not an accident.

"May the pains of past bereavements grow more gentle;
Indeed, let them be transformed into gratitude to our dear ones who have died
And tenderness to those who are still with us."

What amazing words. I don't think I can add much to what Erica said in her comment. I too lost faith and am in the process of resdiscovering what is left, what can grow, what can thrive.