I will never forget the moment at about 2 a.m. that the doctors explained to us that blood was filling Mary Anna’s lungs and that she could not breathe on her own anymore. I couldn’t breathe either. They told us that they had to put the tubes in her little mouth and that they probably wouldn’t be coming out. I still couldn’t breathe. I prayed fervently for healing. We believed together. Healing was not going to happen on this earth, but her healing came in heaven.
The day we got home from the hospital, I remember saying to my parents that I was just so frustrated, because I had truly prayed and believed in her healing. Even before I knew that it was going to be fatal, during my entire pregnancy, I prayed and believed. I have thought so much that it just was so unfair, because so many people do not pray for their children, but I prayed for my daughter. Unreal. My mom told me that she knew that I had prayed everyday, because I used to call her on my way to work each morning, and she realized that when I stopped calling, it was because I was praying the whole ride to work. It never hit me that I consciously stopped calling her, but I did. Sometimes I would walk into work with tears in eyes, because I was so moved during my time with the Lord. I prayed.
There have been times ever since that I want to just quit this prayer crap. I want to forget it all, but I just can’t. Many times I want to pray, but I just don’t know how to pray, and you know what, you don’t have to know what to say all the time.