For the last several months I have been actively fighting giving my testimony. It started with our small groups, they wanted to do testimonies. Each week that passed by I grew more irritated by the idea. I did not feel the need to give my testimony and even more so I did not want to do it. I would get panic attacks every time it was brought up and every time someone began to give theirs. The night Josh gave his, be began talking about Logan and I lost control. I knew after that night I was definitely not giving my testimony. 

A few weeks later we made a commitment to go to Haiti this summer with my boss for a Mission Trip. To which I learned I would need a testimony to share. Once again I felt pressure to create something that I was strongly against doing. And I just couldn’t understand why. 

As the months got closer to Logan’s birthday, my panic attacks slowly increased. I began to feel angry and indifferent with God. And I could feel this distance between us grow. It was no longer this small stream to cross but a huge ravine. I thought things would go back to “normal” once his birthday had passed and to my surprise it did not. It only got worse. 

I was given the opportunity to attend a Women’s Retreat, and I had such high hopes that this would be the experience that would break me and bring me back to God. The bridge to get me across the deep ravine separating us. Unfortunately I think it had the opposite effect. Instead of repairing that build, I think each day I watch another plank fall off that bridge. 

The first day at Retreat they began worship service and we were back midway into a room of 200 women. As I watched these women around me raise their hands in worship, I envied them. Their faithfulness, love and trust in the Lord. It seem to come to them with ease. And I stood there struggling with God. I listened to them singing the words as I read them on the projector. “He is faithful.” “He never gives up” and so on. And all I could think was this is such bull crap. How was He faithful when Logan died? How am I supposed to praise God when I feel like he failed me. 

The second day followed the same pattern. Except, this year the added “How to Write your Testimony” for the first time. Coincidence? I think not. The one thing I’ve been fighting against for several months, just landed in my lap. So of course I attended, and I managed after awhile to write a testimony. It doesn’t make sense to me, but I put something to paper and I guess that means something? 

That evening they had asked for volunteers to share their testimony. These women came from broken homes and continued into broken lives. They had children they didn’t take care of. And as I listened to each one, I became angrier. These testimonies didn’t make me feel any less angry with God. It didn’t help build our bridge across the ravine. Instead it was like a sledgehammer beating it down. These broken women got to continue to have healthy babies they couldn’t care for. But He allowed my child to be taken from me? How do I reconcile with that? How do I just accept that God has a bigger purpose? A year ago I could. Today I can’t. How do I release my heart and praise God unwaveringly when I feel in my bones that He failed me. 

When I came home I promised I would start my bible study back and essentially try to force my relationship back. Instead I came home and avoided it all together. I got into a routine where its just easier to avoid it. I have a hard time understanding this phase of my life. The things I feel now, make more sense if it was a year ago. How can I have had so much control and understanding when Logan died, and be such a mess a year later? How can I see purpose behind Logan’s life and a year later see fault? 

Josh and Wyatt went out of town over the weekend. First boys trip! But I shutdown. I spent 3 days in bed with panic attacks coming in waves. I just laid there, without purpose, without care. I guess you could say I was a little depressed. I wasn’t suicidal, I simply felt like I was there, occupying space. Since then my mood has improved, but my panic attacks are still stinging. Logan’s death hits harder with each day that passes. And I don’t know how to handle it. 

I’ll leave you with this, my testimony; I don’t see the purpose behind it, but perhaps you will. 

“As a child I grew up being bounced between family and foster care, surrounded by instability and uncertainty. The damage it caused me emotionally and mentally left a desire in me to be the stability my children would need from me someday. Eight years after our first son was born, we were excited to be bringing another son into our family. 20 weeks in to our pregnancy we found out he had a condition not compatible with life. After many exhausting visits with several doctors the verdict remained. I stopped conversing with God in prayer. I still believed He could heal my son but I couldn’t bring my pain and disdain to Him. The few hours we were told we’d have, turned in 14 days of saying hello and watching him slowly fade into goodbye. The first year after Logan died I dived in the Word, forcing myself into prayer and serving other loss moms. As the year went by, my drive started to fade and was replaced with anger, hurt, failure and indifference. I’m starting year 2 without my son and my belief in God is still present but I’m angrier. I’m still struggling today. Each day I wake up and fight this internal battle. I fight the anger, the hurt and the feeling God failed me. I feel disobedient for my discontent towards God. I yearn for the ease we used to have. My journey isn’t over and I can’t be here and say I don’t have doubts.”