Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Conversations to Remember

Today, i had to get my blood drawn for some routine tests. On the way there this conversation occurred between me and Kailyn.

Me: I have to go get my blood taken. If you're good we'll go to CiCi's for lunch.
K: Are they going to cut you in half to get your blood?
Me: .....???

Not sure where that idea came from, but rest assured, they did not have to cut me in half to get my blood.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Sisters


 I am currently following a blog written by a mom who's 4 year old daughter recently died very unexpectedly. If you want a heart wrenching, cry-your-eyes-out read, this blog is it. Aside from the obvious grief and sorrow that a mom feels after losing her child, there is another aspect to her story that feels like a kick in the gut. There are other siblings and the mom talks often of how this horror has and is affecting them.

Today she posted about the older sister...and it just breaks my heart. Every time I read about the older sister I imagine my girls. My two, sweet, beautiful girls and how it would be if I were to lose one of them.
 
 It makes me more appreciative of their laughter and their smiles. It makes me want to hold them just a bit longer and cherish every moment I have with them, watching them.

I love the bond that my girls share. How they love to be together, how Emmy doesn't think of Kailyn as a pest to be tolerated, but as a unique and special treat to enjoy. I love how Emmy watches over her sister, takes care of her and loves her. She has a mother's heart when it comes to that girl. And I love how Kailyn looks up to and adores Emmy. I think these two were best friends long before they came to our family. And I can't imagine my life without that.
 
But this mom has to LIVE it!

What if that were all gone in an instant? How do you heal your child's heart when yours is torn to pieces? And how do you make it better when the only thing that can is beyond your power?

This mom's blog is heart rending; the pain and grief are so evident and raw as to be unbearable at times. But I understand that pain, to some extent, and I wish I could take a part of it on myself, because it's such a heavy burden to carry on your own. But it's not possible. Grief is something that you have to experience to get through it.

I look at my girls, my precious girls, and I think how lucky I am. I cry for this other mom, for the pain she's going through, for her daughter who's lost her best friend, for her other boys who lost their playmate and sister, and her husband who no longer can hold his baby girl. I wonder where God is in it and how He can watch their suffering and not give their little girl back? Even with all the peace and knowledge the Gospel brings, it doesn't make it easier to not have your child here with you. Your arms are still empty and your heart is still broken. But even as I wonder, I know He's there, carrying them even when they don't know it, because I have been there too. The feelings and thoughts she expresses, I've had and felt every one. And I'm surviving. Not a day goes by that I don't think of my son. In fact, I wear a ring that reminds me of him. It says, "I think of you all the time", and I do. But I know there's peace. It may take years in coming, but it's there, even when the answers aren't.






 

Robert Allen

miscarriage