And I thought of the losses of children - losses that happened beyond birth. The parents that have buried their children after having them in their arms and in their homes and lives for a period of time. Perhaps months, or years. Perhaps to toddlerhood, perhaps to teenager, perhaps even longer.
And I heard the silent question in my mind ask for the millionth time... wouldn't it be worse to lose them AFTER you have them for a while? Surely that has to be worse than having them born sleeping... worse than never having them at all.
And I don't know the answer of this. And I'm sure every person, every family, every story is different. But I'm sure that it will forever be a silent question I will carry with me for the rest of my days.
Over the past ten years I have seen parents, families, caring for a child with a disability. The wheelchairs, the tubes, the determined exhaustion. I can't help but wonder if having them live, but need so much forever care, would that bring more joy, or more burden to my life... if we're to be totally honest with ourselves. Because my honest self is the one asking myself these questions.
And I completely admit, this is something I currently do not know the reality of firsthand, and it's also something that I realize is not probably even supposed to be talked about, admitted to... and yet... here I am.
Now, I am the parent of a child with high needs due to factors known and unknown, from things like trauma and brain damage, from a spectrum of neurodivergence. The high need things that are less outwardly visible at a glance, less understood, less tolerated. It's drowning in a sea of "societal normalcy" bc so much of it all is so against the normal, against the tide of what the world expects and demands. School, rules, standardized "anything" ~ it's all supposed to fit into such a tight tidy little box, but that just isn't the reality, isn't a possibility.
But alas, that is a bit of a different subject than that which I originally started this post about. And one I am well aware of that someday, I do need to circle back to and begin sharing more openly about. But not today. Not yet. I'm still floundering too far down to begin to try go there. And, I guess I'm still battling the whole "not probably even supposed to be talked about" thing on that subject yet.
We lost faith before she was born. She did not breath, she did not cry. She was born sleeping and immediately was welcomed through Heaven's gates rather than into our arms. And we knew this was going to be her reality from almost the day we found out about her little existence. Trisomy 18. No life expectancy outside the womb. We knew. We were prepared.
Well no one is ever "prepared" for death, what am I even saying. But logically speaking it's the "right thing to say" in that kind of circumstance.
We grieved only what wasn't. We grieved only what wouldn't be.
We didn't have to grieve all that had been, and already was. There was an ultrasound photo in a frame, but there was not scrapbooks full of the passing of time, the smiles, the milestones, the holidays, the normal every days. There wasn't video clips or live photos on our phones. There wasn't Facebook memories to pop up.
And I know the loss of a child is the loss of a child, no matter how or no matter when, the how and why's do not matter, so I'm not even sure why this whisper in my mind whooshes through every now and again. Surely I cannot be the only one that hears this inside their head...
When I hear of the tragic accident, when I read about the horrible diagnose, when I see the mom loving and caring for her child with special needs and extreme disabilities... when there is also the small answering whisper trying to answer that question - I think I'm glad we lost her before we actually had her, then losing her after having her alive and in our arms on this earth.
We didn't have any clothes, or toys, or books. She didn't have a room all decorated and ready to come home to. Surely having to take care of all those details after the loss has to just be so much worse than not even needing to have any of it at all in the first place.
But I don't know the other reality, but oh the souls I see through the eyes of their mama's is just so raw and so overwhelming to me and I can't help but think surely their pain has to be worse than what my pain is / was.
But it's not a comparison game.
None of us are looking to be awarded loss mom of the year awards. Not one single one of us asked for this, wished for this, hoped for this. No one. No matter how or when we got this cursed title of "loss mom" it's each and every one of our own worst of the worsts.
I am only carrying my story and my loss within me... but Lord I pray I am able to somehow walk well beside all the others who are also carrying their own stories of their own losses within themselves. I pray that somehow, some way, all our broken hearts can help hold each other together as we walk forward in our own journeys, filled with our own questions, and our own battles and sorrows.
Our stories and our losses are all our own yes, but may we also simply allow ourselves to be stronger together.
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