Duality

Today marks one month since we said goodbye to Conley; a day we will never forget. This past month has brought many opposing feelings and thoughts. An experience our therapist labeled as duality; an instance of opposition or contrast between two concepts or two aspects of something. Thoughts where you are constantly talking yourself in circles; feelings or thoughts that are completely contradictory of each other. Thoughts that cannot exist in the same sentence, but express exactly what runs through every fiber in your body. One thought completely destroys the meaning of the other, yet you feel each of them 100%. Most of us have probably experienced this more than a handful of times, from a failed relationship or an important work decision, though typically, there is an option to change the outcome. What makes it harder is when you cannot change the outcome, and you have to live with the decisions you have made. 

For me, these thoughts have taken over. Thoughts like how I would not change anything about my final days with Conley and I would give anything to have one more day with him. How I would give anything to take back the last month of Conley's life as it was full of pain and suffering, and knowing that without enduring every day of the last month of his life, I would not have come to terms with letting him go. That I would never, ever want a parent to witness the constant suffering of their child and I wonder if anyone will ever truly understand what it is like to see your child deteriorate right before your eyes. And that every, single day, I miss Conley with all of my heart and I am so happy that I never have to see him hooked up to a machine again. Feeling hopeful hearing that other children survived medical battles and being so relieved that it is not me living with the future unknown and relentless complications. Wondering that if we just prayed harder, believed more, or surrendered longer, that Conley would still be with us, and also knowing that him "surviving" and being with us did not mean that he was actually living. 

Wondering that if we just prayed harder, believed more, or surrendered longer, that Conley would still be with us, and also knowing that him "surviving" and being with us did not mean that he was actually living. This one has come up several times for me; pretty much on a daily basis. Usually when I hear others speak of how "God is good" and praising God for "saving" people or making "miracles" happen. Or when I hear people say "give it to God." I know this goes back to a previous post I wrote when Conley was very ill in the hospital. This post talked about the concept of prayer and how it can be often be misused in society; specifically about praying for a certain outcome as opposed to the process. 

I often wonder if Conley's situation was our "test" to see if we would turn our fears and worries over to a higher power; and that we somehow failed, so the end result was his death. I see other families who are facing battles, medical, financial or personal, and they talk about "turning it over to God," and often times, they seem to get result they want; it ends up being "okay." It makes me think that maybe if we would have prayed harder, surrendered to a higher power, or believed more in a God, that we would not be those parents whose lost their child; that Conley would have survived. But what does surviving mean? Does that necessarily mean that he is living? Maybe a part of me knew I did not want him to survive this experience because I knew that his survival meant more suffering. Maybe subconsciously I did not pray or believe more because deep down I knew that surviving would hurt us all, every day, for an unknown amount of time. We would be grieving and hurting every day of our life waiting for the next crossroad. Knowing that Conley would never be the "healthy" chronically sick child that he was before.

And then I think maybe we did subconsciously surrender to a higher power; that maybe we were blessed with the result we prayed for; for him to no longer suffer. My previous post asked for people to "pray for Conley's comfort, that he does not suffer, and that he can allow himself to be free of any burdens that he may have, so he can rest comfortably," and asked others to "focus our prayers around Conley, and what would make his heart be settled, regardless of the outcome." After reading over this post, and remembering what it felt like to be in the moment staring at my child suffering and battling for his life, begging for his comfort, I think that maybe my prayers were answered. And not only is he no longer suffering, we were blessed with a beautiful, loving, genuine, uncomplicated, and unique transition to the next life. What if a higher power knew that Conley deserved to no longer suffer and that he had two parents that would selflessly let go so that he would never be in pain again? What if this was the outcome we wanted, even though it is never anything that a parent would really want?

Yes, these are the conversations I have in my head every single day. On good days, I can talk myself in a circle and come to a place of comfort; a place where I have no doubt in my mind that every decision we made was for Conley; to ease his suffering and renew our hope in life. On bad days, I agonize over how much I miss him; and how we should have held on just a bit longer; that maybe one more week would have changed the prognosis. I get stuck in the sadness and heartache. Allowing myself to just be in these days; to truly surrender and accept the sadness and grief is all I can do. Because I know that tomorrow is a new day, and Conley will remind me again of all the reasons we chose this path for him, and for us. He knew that we would do anything for him, even if that meant having to let go. Letting go means he is forever okay and will no longer suffer; our exact prayer every step of the way.