A few weeks ago, the blogosphere began buzzing with sadness over the passing of little Madeline and Thalon. I had never heard of either of them previously and hadn't read the blogs kept by their respective moms, but I couldn't help but click over to read their stories. The sudden loss of these babies was heartbreaking to read about, and yet I couldn't look away. Their parents' grief, so raw and tangible, touched a chord deep within me. What parent can't help but feel their pain? I cried over these children I had never met, for it was my own worst nightmare. I could relate, if only partially, to what they were going through.
I have continued to read these blogs and follow as these moms navigate through a tragedy no parent should ever have to endure. Their writing is so compelling, and I am drawn to the brave way their bare their souls to the world. Having a child makes you more vulnerable than anything else ever will. Your child's pain is your pain; their joy your joy; their death is your death. It's the most wonderful and yet the scariest thing in the world.
I think of these mothers often. I carry pictures of their babies around in my head. As I lay down in bed at night, I wonder how they are managing to make it through another quiet, lonely night. How they are surviving and continuing to make their way through the world in all their sorrow. The pain they must feel at seeing an empty crib or seeing their unused clothes and toys. At the same time, I am trying to cherish Asher more than ever. I was telling Eric this, and he reminded me that we are human and can't possibly be perfect parents 100% of the time. After all, I am a mom to a strong-willed, teething 20-month-old. Frustrations will come up, and patience will be lost. But the love - the love is always, always there. Even if I can't be perfect every second, at least I try and remember to savor Asher's still sweet baby breath and the smell of his hair after a bath. I can enjoy curling up next to him and snuggling him as he sleeps. I can ensure that I keep up my daily regimen of giving him a thousand kisses and hugs. I can remember to give him lots of words of encouragement and praise and try not to dwell on the rough patches. I can try not to take anything for granted, because if we can remind ourselves of one thing from these tragedies, it is that life is so very precious.
3 comments:
Oh man. I too can't even begin to fathom the depth of their sadness. I am brought to tears when I too read as their mother's bare their deepest thoughts. The tragedy of these families have caused me to hug my kids more tightly, kiss them often, and realize that no matter what frustration is weighing on me that day it's never, ever as bad as what these families are facing each day. Thinking of these sweet babies who were taken too soon help me to have a gentler spirit with Nevie when she won't sleep because I'm sure both Maddie & Thalon's mom would give anything for a sleepless night, endless crying, and teething pains.
Well said. It's a pretty great job we have after all.
Beautifully written. Their stories are just heartbreaking.... :(
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