In the church I attend there are 7 women expecting babies all within 2 months of each other. It is a baby boom! Four have already been delivered and the next three are due any day now. All babies are exciting, but there is one in particular that was a miracle. She hadn't been able to conceive for 6 years. They had an older daughter who is 7 and an adopted a daughter who is now 5. When it was discovered that she was expecting, without any treatments, the entire ward was ecstatic for them. Her shower was two weeks ago. Her due date is this week. She spoke in church last Sunday. She looked great.
Yesterday they announced that she had gone into labor that morning and delivered a still-born baby. I cried, and cried, and cried along with most of our congregation. I kept thinking of all people to have this happen to, not her. I wouldn't wish that on any one, but it seemed so unfair to have it be her. I felt guilty for having uncomplicated pregnancies, healthy babies, and for having four of them.
My heart breaks for her and her family. I don't know what it is like to endure infertility when you want to have children. I don't know what it's like to spend nine months anticipating something you have waited on for years. I don't know what it feels like to go to the hospital anticipating the birth of a living child to find out he didn't make it. I don't know what it feels like to recover from labor and delivery with nothing to coo at you and cry and feed. No diapers to change. A nursery waiting to receive its occupant. Baby clothes hanging in the closet that will never be worn. A crib that won't be slept in. How does a person get over that?
I never thought I would see sleepless nights, crying fits, hundreds of dirty diapers, and mountains of laundry as something to be thankful for. But I am grateful I have the opportunity to experience this. That I get to hold a fussy baby, wash loads of tiny clothes, wipe little noses and bums, brush four sets of teeth, make PBJ sandwiches, fill car seats, hush screeching voices, and hold tiny hands.
I know this event didn't happen to teach me a lesson, but I learned one anyway. My problems are so insignificant (you may have already known that). My life is blissful. My life is blessed. My life is free from the piercing heart aches that leave eternal scars. I can live with having a husband that works a lot. I can live with financial stress, and medical bills to pay. I can live with being the sole parent most days. I am capable of handling the lot I've been assigned to bear, and can do so gladly. I pray I never have to experience the loss of one of my children. I might not be able to live with that.
Yesterday they announced that she had gone into labor that morning and delivered a still-born baby. I cried, and cried, and cried along with most of our congregation. I kept thinking of all people to have this happen to, not her. I wouldn't wish that on any one, but it seemed so unfair to have it be her. I felt guilty for having uncomplicated pregnancies, healthy babies, and for having four of them.
My heart breaks for her and her family. I don't know what it is like to endure infertility when you want to have children. I don't know what it's like to spend nine months anticipating something you have waited on for years. I don't know what it feels like to go to the hospital anticipating the birth of a living child to find out he didn't make it. I don't know what it feels like to recover from labor and delivery with nothing to coo at you and cry and feed. No diapers to change. A nursery waiting to receive its occupant. Baby clothes hanging in the closet that will never be worn. A crib that won't be slept in. How does a person get over that?
I never thought I would see sleepless nights, crying fits, hundreds of dirty diapers, and mountains of laundry as something to be thankful for. But I am grateful I have the opportunity to experience this. That I get to hold a fussy baby, wash loads of tiny clothes, wipe little noses and bums, brush four sets of teeth, make PBJ sandwiches, fill car seats, hush screeching voices, and hold tiny hands.
I know this event didn't happen to teach me a lesson, but I learned one anyway. My problems are so insignificant (you may have already known that). My life is blissful. My life is blessed. My life is free from the piercing heart aches that leave eternal scars. I can live with having a husband that works a lot. I can live with financial stress, and medical bills to pay. I can live with being the sole parent most days. I am capable of handling the lot I've been assigned to bear, and can do so gladly. I pray I never have to experience the loss of one of my children. I might not be able to live with that.
I'm so sorry to hear about your friend's loss - that is awful.
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