Giving Thanks?

A little over an hour ago, it was Thanksgiving Day. This past week, I've wondered how I can feel thankful this year. At church on Sunday, the pastor reminded us that not only should we be giving thanks in everything, but we should also be giving thanks for everything, as well. For. Every. Thing.

The past 6 months, I have been giving thanks for many things. In my prayers, I have thanked God for my life, my husband, my jobs, my amazing friends and family, my salvation, and even our crappy apartment because it means I have a roof over my head. I have given thanks for most things, in everything... But I haven't given thanks for every thing.

How exactly does one say, "God, thank you for letting my daughter die?"

I do thank the Lord that, in her death, Anika felt no pain (at least, I hope). And I know that because of her death, she will never feel pain or sorrow. She will never cry or be hungry. She will never be cold or know darkness. She will only know beauty, light, and perfection. And I'm thankful for that.

But am I thankful that she died? No. Not yet, anyway. Maybe one day I will be. But right now it feels like a slap in the face. "I'm going to have you fall in love with this little girl, this little you, and then she's going to die, and you won't even know anything is wrong til she's gone."

(If God were a Simpsons character, there would be a Nelson-esque "HA HA," at the end of that sentence.)

Don't misunderstand. I feel honored, blessed to be the mother of a perfect, in the complete and literal sense of the word, baby. Very few women can say that their child is absolutely perfect in every way. Anika never even had the chance to sin. Sometimes I feel like Mary. I was just beginning to show around Christmas, which made me feel akin to Mary at the time. And, just like Mary, God never clued me in to the demise of my beautiful child.

...But I miss her. I miss my Li'l Miss Zigzag, my Pruney Face, my AniBear. It's hard to feel thankful that she's gone.

It would be as though I were admitting defeat, without ever even being allowed to attempt the task. If Anika had lived through all the problems the placenta had caused, she probably would have had a lot of medical problems, mental or physical, that may have lasted her entire life. Thanking God for taking her when He did makes me feel like I'm admitting I could never have handled any problems that would have come along. And I know that's not the case.

...But maybe God knew otherwise?

And I think that's one of the hardest parts. The questions: "Could I have handled it? Could we have handled it?" I just don't know. And it's not my job to find the answer. It's just my job to accept that what happened did, indeed, happen. Anika is in Heaven, and I must be thankful for that. Even when it's difficult.

My baby is in Heaven. I would have fed her baby food sweet potatoes on this day of Thanks, but she is feasting with her Heavenly Father on the Bread of Life, instead. And what is that compared to baby food sweet potatoes?