The Dance

This morning as I was driving to the grocery store, the song "The Dance" by Garth Brooks came on the radio. This song has been around for awhile, and I have heard it many times. But I never really paid attention to the lyrics...or had reason to pay attention to the lyrics. This morning, I listened...to the music AND the lyrics, and this song hit home.

"And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance"

I'm glad I didn't know...I'm glad I didn't know that our time with Henry would be so limited. I wouldn't have wanted to spend that time counting down to him getting sick and leaving us. I'm much happier that we spent that time living and loving. Because once we knew he was going to die, everything we did, every memory we made would have been tarnished with that knowledge. And instead we made amazing HAPPY memories that we can carry with us now.

Then there's the chance we could have missed the pain, but that means we would have had to miss the dance. Losing Henry caused a pain that I didn't know was possible, and that I wouldn't have thought was survivable. But having Henry...carrying him for 9 months, caring for him for 7 more...I wouldn't trade that for the world. I wouldn't even trade the pain, because the pain means that Henry lived, and that he was loved.

"For a moment, all the world was right..."

And I carry that moment...those moments...in my heart forever.

Hurting heart

The news lately has my heart hurting. So many parents losing children...to senseless violence...tragic accidents...and the judgement that sometimes follows. I can understand how these parents are hurting, but I certainly don't claim to know what they're going through.

I know and understand the pain of losing a child.  But I don't know what it's like to lose a child like those who lost a child in a mass shooting, or on a vacation to what is supposed to be the most magical place on earth.  We had a little time to process our loss...we had time with Henry to say goodbye. Our loss was unexpected, but not sudden. And although our community knew our story and rallied around us, we were not the center of national (and international) news. We could grieve and process in private. There were no investigations to deal with...no news reporters knocking on our door...just a funeral to plan, deep mourning to sort through.

But knowing the loss of a child, my heart breaks for all of these parents and families. I'm not sure there is a greater pain than the one those who have lost a child know every...single...day. Their lives will never be the same, and right now they may not even know how they'll get through one day, not to mention a lifetime. 

As humans, we want to reach out...we want to help. But perhaps the best way to help is simply to think of and pray for these families. They have family and friends to rally around and support them. Let's surround them with loving thoughts, and show support by putting more good into the world. Help your neighbor...reach out to a friend...say I love you to someone. There's enough bad in the world...so let's work on the good.

And in the interest of bringing smiles and good...who can resist a happy Henry picture?? Hopefully in time all who have lost a child can find some comfort in happy memories. ❤️

The hardest part...

I read something recently that said the hardest part of motherhood is when your kids grow up. And in my head I immediately disputed this. I thought perhaps that's the hardest part for most mothers...but that definitely hasn't been the case for me. 

And then I got to thinking...what IS the hardest part of motherhood? It's a hard judgement for me to make, seeing as my motherhood hasn't lasted all that long. Was it the nine months of pregnancy? Growing uncomfortable, giving up things like a tasty summer beer or a favorite coffee drink? Was it giving birth? Was it the complete and utter exhaustion of caring for a newborn? Was it having to watch him get his first set of shots? Was it dropping him off at daycare? Or, perhaps, was it watching him grow up?

Now you're probably thinking that, for me, the worst part of motherhood is watching my child die. But I actually don't think that's true. (Don't get me wrong, that was right up there among the worst moments of my life.) I think the worst part of motherhood, and parenthood (in my limited experience) is watching your child suffer and not being able to do anything to make it better. Hearing Henry cough and sniffle, watching him struggle to breathe, seeing him bloated and intubated, watching him go through dialysis day after day...that was the toughest part. Because all I could do was hold his hand...be with him...but I couldn't take away any of the pain. Now most parents hopefully will never see their child suffer quite like that. But what about that broken bone? Or their first heartbreak? Getting picked on at school? Anything that hurts our child hurts us too. 

So for me, watching my child (someday, hopefully, God-willing) grow up will not be the worst part of motherhood at all. That, in fact, will probably be one of the best parts. It's those parts that I can't protect them from that I worry about. But growing up...that's something to be enjoyed and celebrated.