I’ve had quite a few people share words of encouragement for what’s happened in the past few weeks. The words, the cards, the flowers and the balloons have all been so kind and sweet and have really helped me keep this positive attitude the past few weeks.
So many have sent condolences for the loss of my baby as well, and while I appreciate their kind words, at this time, I am not feeling a huge loss.
Does that make me a bad person? Am I less of a women, or a shameful mother because I am not acutely mourning the loss of that pregnancy?
I found out I was pregnant about 3 seconds before I found out that THAT pregnancy would cost me my life if I didn’t have emergency surgery.
I had no time to hope.
No time to pick out a name.
I didn’t choose outfits, get out the “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”, or start imagining what the little guy would look like (how do I know it was a boy? the little squirt didn’t even stop and ask for directions! he just planted himself right there in my tube instead of asking where my uterus was).
I just listened and absorbed the info and went in for surgery. Then I worked on healing, then I dealt with The Blob, then I worked on my body healing again.
Maybe I just haven’t thought about it as much as I should…
I have friends of my same faith, friends of different faiths, and even friends with NO faith who have given me advice on this front, and no matter what I or others say or think about what happened, my mind goes straight back to this thought:
Everything is going to be ok.
I can’t sit around and ask “Why?” all day long.
I mean, I can. It’s totally possible, but I won’t. I don’t even want to, it won’t do me any good.
I know that while we are on this Earth, great and amazing things will happen to us, and tragic and unbearable things will occur as well. What I am grateful for is the knowledge that there is something bigger out there…something beyond any and all comprehension for us down here. There was “something” before I got here, and there will be “something” after I leave here, and in that knowledge, I find comfort.
When the nurse (thinking that I had cancer) came into my room and said that my little baby came down to this earth with every intention of saving my life, I cried. My heart hurt. But after that initial crying jag, I realized that everything happens for a reason. All of these occurrences have a purpose, and it’s not until we get all the way through this life and have the opportunity to look back that we will see how all the pieces, even the broken ones, fit into place in our life.
Until then, I will focus on the good, try harder to be a better person, and look forward to what the future brings. I don’t know how else to live, and I hope that others can find the peace, joy, and comfort that I have found with my faith, because I wouldn’t be able to survive without it.