Joining the Ranks

Today I was on my lunch break (Monday and Tuesday are the two days I actually get lunch alone...every other day usually has a commitment). So, after I had heated my lunch and got back to my desk, I opened my phone for a minute to catch up on the news of the day while I ate. The old adage, "No news is good news" was really true today. I stumbled across the page of an old school friend from long, long ago. I had recently started following her again to get a flavor for what was happening "back home." Unfortunately, "back home" suffers from the same tumults and tempests as "right here." Today, I read a testimony of an old friend, another mom who lost her child. Having written about that myself, I knew exactly why she was writing it. She needed to write it, she HAD to write it. Those words she wrote through her absolute gut-wrenching, heart-rending pain HAD to come out. We all needed to hear them and she needed to say them. It pierced me to my core to read it. The pain and agony I felt nearly four full years ago, came back with such an intensity that I wondered how I would teach my last two classes of the day. I found myself in that place all over again...fresh and raw as though it had just happened. Why is grief like that? Why can't it come, do what it needs to, and leave forever! I hate that at the most random of times, it comes back. Then, with grief comes the guilt. "Amy, why are YOU thinking about YOUR pain. Your friend is the one suffering right now. You are so selfish. When will you get over yourself? When will you get over THIS?" Then, not only do you feel that dark cloud of grief settle in, but now you feel guilty in combination with it--adding another layer of misery. I wondered how my friend was sleeping at night? I wondered how many times she had cried today when she thought no one was watching? I wondered if anyone was helping her with the funeral so she didn't have to visit that place of death for a moment longer than she had to? I wished, more than anything, that the peace she described having in her Facebook post would get her through the most painful days ahead and that in those days ahead she would not doubt that God was still good. I know a lot of people think that I should not still grieve over the loss of my children. After all, I have Joel now. He is healthy and strong and adorable and loving. Still, in the back of my mind, I remember them....all of them. Sure, several of my babies never got names and I never met them face to face. The grief of those losses is painful, but it is a very brief visitor. The grief for Hannah Grace, however, comes and settles in and is hard to shake. I met Hannah...I held her. I am still angry at myself for not holding her longer. It was such a strange thing because I knew she was already in Heaven, so maybe that's why I felt like I needed to let the nurses take her away. The days after, however, when my arms ached to hold her....I cried and hated myself for not holding her more, memorizing her face, committing her to my heart. I knew after reading that Facebook post, this mom had not reached that point yet. I also knew, that moment was coming for her at some point. Maybe not today or tomorrow...but sometime. I ached anew for her. So, today, as I cried over another mom joining the ranks of loss and grief, I wished in my heart of hearts I could be there to help... To wash those dishes that had probably piled up since the loss, like someone did for me. I wanted to make sure someone was taking care of the condolence meals and organizing the funeral needs, like someone helped us to do. But, I know she is loved and has people around her that are helping her, caring for her, and praying for her, like someone did for me. You have to wonder, as I do...what is the purpose to these little lives? Why did we get to have Hannah for those few short months only to give her right back to God? I don't know. If I had a nickel for every time I wrote a post about her and why she lived and died and how I still don't know why, I would probably be a very rich person. I can say one thing, her short life taught me a lot about what is actually important and what isn't. Her life also taught me to be thankful. I just had another day with my son. In fact, as I write, I can watch from my vantage point on the couch as his little self sleeps in his room. I am thankful because he got to turn three. I am thankful because he can identify numbers 1-5 by sight, tell you all the colors (except brown, for some reason) and knows his ABC's. He is a living, breathing miracle that I would have taken for granted if it wasn't for Hannah. Sometimes, we have to drive by the place where her grave is. Even now, four years after the fact (this coming May), I cry. It is so crazy. I know she (her actual person) is not there. But, I guess the human side of you overcomes the logical, "I know where she actually is" side. Not sure this post helps you at all, and the friend of long ago that is now dealing with this pain in a new, fresh way...she won't ever read this...we aren't that close any more and I doubt my experience is exactly what she is dealing with. But this post helped me. That little dark cloud of grief trailed me all day and I couldn't shake it. I needed to write this. I needed to put this on paper. I don't know if anyone will care or even read past the first paragraph--"Oh here goes Amy again with another sad post. I am over this."---close web page, walk away. That's ok. I didn't write it for anyone except me and the new member of this group. I wrote it for us. This is my way of dealing with grief. I hope she finds hers. Until then, I am going to pray her through it...just like someone did for me.