Perhaps it's pregnancy. The idea that a new life will be joining us soon. And the responsibility that comes with parenting as well as the overwhelming love that runs hand in hand with fear sometimes. I don't know.
But I've cried buckets for this woman over the past few weeks.
She's not someone I know. I only heard about this tragic accident through another blog I read. And yet, I can not seem to get her out of my mind.
Death is not something new to me. Aside from taking care of my mom in her last few months and even sitting with her in those last painful moments of her life, I've also experienced it in many ways throughout my career as a Child Life Specialist.
I've sat with families as they've watched their child take their last breathe. I've helped brothers and sisters prepare to say goodbye to their sick sibling, done handprints and cut a lock of hair after a child has died. I've spoken at funerals, and planned memorial services for children to say goodbye to their siblings and friends. But the fear is sometimes paralyzing when you think it might be your own child. Especially when it's so sudden and unexpected.
Believe me, I am the first to take Hollister in to the pediatrician for a swollen lymph node, convinced that his white cell count is going to be elevated.
I'm most certainly not going to downplay watching a child suffer from chronic illness. I've spent 11 years doing that and I know and see how incredibly difficult it is. And yet, there is something about the suddenness of a trauma-a tragedy that we don't foresee that effects me on a much deeper level.
Perhaps it's because cancer is what I know. After watching hundreds of children and families battle it for the past 11 years, it's sadly, familiar. And on some level, if one of my children were ever diagnosed with something chronic-I'd know how to prepare. I'd know who to call, I'd know which doctors I wanted to see them. Even if their prognosis was not great, I'd have some time to prepare. And I'm someone who likes to KNOW. I like to be prepared.
But a story like Anna's is something beyond my scope of understanding. I look at that picture of her son and daughter just moments before the accident, and my mind wants to shut down. I cannot imagine her grief. And that probably has something to do with the fact that I like my life to be organized, planned out. The idea that one minute you are serving your child peanut butter and apples for a snack, and then they are all of the sudden GONE....
What am I saying here? I don't really know. I've just felt drawn back to Anne's blog over and over, and as I've watched her begin the healing process, I've tried to process it all myself.
And it's not just her. I've watched a dear friend lose a baby this year and spend the last 150 days watching that baby's twin battle for his life. I don't know how she does it. And on those days when I complain most about lugging a 4 month old up the stairs, stopping to huff and puff along the way because of my even increasing belly, I have to stop and get my perspective in line. What in the WORLD do I have to complain about?
I dont ever want to be someone that says, "Thank goodness that's not me!" And typically I don't. Because the truth is, it could be. At anytime. Like Anna says in that blog post, I tend to be a defeatest. I tend to think that if it's going to happen, it will happen to me. Because, despite the fact that I have had some incredibly amazing things happen to me in my lifetime, I also tend to be the person that falls repeatedly into the "this only happens to 10% of people" category. In lots of situations, Both good and bad. So perhaps that's why I feel this need to dwell on someone else's pain. I'm always wondering if I could handle it. And when you work in a profession like mine, you can't help but to believe that it could happen to you too.
Not morbid though...I promise. Just thinking....
And I guess that's where faith comes in. I like to think of myself as a "faithful" person. My belief in something greater, in a God that is working for my good (at all times) is often the only thing that gets me through unpredictable times.
For instance, if you scroll to the Feb. 22nd entry from this past year, http://www.caringbridge.com/visit/kimslove/journal/2, you'll see how I can almost let fear rule me.
But somehow I don't. Somehow I always find my way back to what I believe. And yet, I still wonder if I could pull from that strength if I were in Anna's position.
When I have days like the ones I was having with Hollister a few weeks ago, even the tantrums I was listening to this morning, and then I read that little by-line in Anna's post, "A few weeks ago I thought my biggest problem in the world was that I’d gained 10 lbs over the summer. I may have mentioned it to you here a time or three. But as you know, everything has changed.."
It makes me question why I do the things I do. Why I let those little things bother me so much. I internally slap myself (okay, not really), and think, "This is NOT a big deal. It could be so much worse."
And yet, despite Anna's blog and my friend who visits her baby daily in the NICU, those every day frustrations DO happen. I'm not perfect. Sometimes mud all over his pants (self inflicted-not an accident) right before we leave to school is JUST A BIG DEAL. So how do I keep my big perspective in the midst of life's little details.
I don't have an answer. No big bow to tie this one up with, or even fabulous words of encouragement. It's just been on my mind a lot lately. Anna's been on my mind a lot lately. The type of mother that I want to be is on my mind a lot lately. 2 new babies....whew....they are definitely on my mind a lot lately. I often wonder how I'll do with 2 more. I wonder if the fear that something will happen to them too will completely overwhelm me or if, when distributed amongst 3, it will lessen a little.
Guess I better keep working on perspective....
Any thoughts???? Am I losing it....If so, please don't tell me! :)
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