I had a friend tell me today that I was a good Mom, the kind that should have a pascal of kids.
And I admit, I thought "If I am a good Mom, why did Perry die?". Before I lost him, I thought I was a good Mom. I tried. I still try.
But now I doubt. If you are a good Mom, bad things aren't supposed to happen to your kids right?
At the same time, I don't think my friend is the type to lie.
Before I lost Perry, I accepted that bad things happen to good people and good parents. But when it happened to me, for some reason I can't accept it. Strange, I feel like I am punishing myself in some way or perhaps just in denial over the lack of control past a point.
At times I don't feel like I deserve my children because of the guilt I feel, no matter how misplaced(How could I be blessed with three such wonderful babies? I must be a bad person because my sweet baby isn't here.), and in reality I guess none of us ever do. Children are a blessing, but they do not come as a result of whether you deserve them or not. We see bad 'parents' and wonderful parents who never received a child to match.
I don't understand it. I don't think I ever will.
Hoping one day I will be reunited and the answers won't matter anymore.