Lately, I have been reading a lot about life and loss. I have come across blogs and Facebook posts where parents are going through the unthinkable, the loss of a child. Hanging on by a thread, there are pleas for prayers and miracles. As I look at pictures of their children, it is hard not to see my own children reflected back at me. I can see the absolute joy dancing in their eyes. It wasn't that long ago that they were reading books, playing games, and cuddling close. Then, unexpectedly, it all changed through an accident or illness. The child who was reaching milestones yesterday is unresponsive today. Clumsily, I offer words of support to these families, most of whom I have never met or expect to. Somehow we are connected, whether it is through mutual friends or the fact that we share the bond of having a special needs child, or it may be just that we are fellow bloggers. I close my eyes and pray that they will receive their miracle, but most of the time, sadly, it doesn't come.
In my life, I have learned that sometimes the miracle I received is not the one I expected.
When I realized I was losing Bennett, I begged for a miracle. As I held him after he passed, at first, I didn't see the miracle I had been granted. I was given the gift of being able to deliver him with no complications and see his beautiful face. Those hours I spent holding Bennett and kissing him, were some of the most precious moments of my life. There was so much love in that room, that the love overpowered the grief.
Seven months later, I was staring at the ceiling of the operating room during my cerclage. I prayed, bargained, and pleaded for a miracle. As each week passed, I prayed to make it another week closer to my due date. I was not prepared for the doctor to tell me that my baby did not have a heartbeat. Where was my miracle? A septic infection landed me in the ICU less than an hour after delivery. The ICU staff allowed me to keep Elijah with me for a few hours once I was stable. Shortly after I had to hand Elijah back to the L&D nurses, I met the rather unpleasant nurse that had been assigned to me. The first time she came to my bedside, she did a rundown of what meds I needed and crossed the prenatal vitamin from the list because according to her, I didn't need that anymore. Then, she looked at me and asked, "Why aren't you crying?" I was rendered speechless by her callous attitude. I was so grateful for the miracle that I was alive and would be able to return home to my children. My crying would be saved for later, once I was recovered.
Please don't get the wrong impression. I am not Pollyanna. I am not always looking to find the good in every situation. To put it nicely, sometimes, life sucks.
It doesn't hurt to hang a prism in my window in search of a rainbow.