I write to you from the comfort of my car. It’s been awhile! I’ve missed blogging but I’ve realized how hard it can be to pour your emotions into writing after spending a day working.
I’m in my car at 10 A.M. because a sweet friend, who previously had my job, is visiting work with her newborn baby girl. It’s interesting how a multitude of feelings come along her visit. Joy and pain. Happiness and hurt. Thankful for her healthy baby girl and jealous that Sam was not. They all seep from me so effortlessly.
In reality, it’s not her beautiful and precious baby that makes me feel this way. It’s every baby. And it’s exhausting because I love babies. I love the fresh future and promise of life that is breathed into each newborn but am envious that it was not with Sam. I love their desire to be close and comforted to their Mamas.
Ted and I were recently at The Little Clinic waiting for him to be seen by a doctor when a newborn baby boy was strolling by with his Mama. The nurse immediately ran over and started cooing, ooh-ing and awe-ing over him. Tears immediately fell. I dreamt about those irreplaceable moments with Sam. Taking him grocery shopping, visiting co-workers, random strangers telling me how beautiful he was – just as I do over every baby I see.
But as I learned in grief counseling this week, instead of holding Sam in his hands, Ted holds my broken heart; and I his. Much like new life, we’re fragile, and to be handled with love and care. Just like newborn babies, we’re experiencing life fresh.
Moment by moment I reminded myself this week. I shouldn’t be ashamed to know my limits. I should be proud that I can identify them. Strength will rise, as I wait.
“You’re the defender of the weak. You comfort those in need. You lift us up on wings like eagles.”