Living in Shadow

It is hard not to reflect on where I was one year ago yesterday, today and tomorrow.  Then I was pregnant with a baby that we couldn't name because we didn't know if baby was a he or a she.  All we knew was that our baby had no kidneys and despite my small but growing belly come spring there would be no baby in our house.  It was a dark shadowy time and many days I barely made my way through.  

Now I am expecting Eli's sister and we know she has kidneys and this spring will bring the promise of new life into our house.  What I know and what I feel can be two terribly different things.  Some days still have that heavy shadowy feeling, clouded over with memories of what was and what could and should have been.  The shadows are there even on cloudy days.  Self-pity lingers.  Self-pity which I know has no place.  I lost, yes.  Twice, yes.  Am I alone?  No.  Have others lost more?  Yes.  Am I extremely blessed with what I've been given and the promise of what is to come?  Absolutely.  Again, knowing and feeling can be oceans apart sometimes.

I know that in just a few short months this will all be gone in the blink of an eye.  Every long dark day that I passed while pregnant with Eli last winter is just a foggy remnant of that real twenty-four hour period.  Time has passed and will pass and it will hopefully bring things I have imagined and things I couldn't begin to imagine, each posing challenges and opportunities for me to learn and grow and change.  The shadows will always be there and so will the sun.

Born Under the Shadow of Grief

I believe that we are all born, and raised, under the shadow of something. Something that has shaped our parents' lives and is thrust upon us unwillingly. My children's shadow is grief. Each and every one. Our first child died less than three hours after he was born. Each child was subsequently born under that shadow of grief. No matter how great our joy was on the days of their birth, there was a shadow hanging over us. Their big brother was not there. I have never been a non-bereaved parent. I have never known the pure joy of holding my own newborn. I cannot unforget what it is like to watch my own child die in my arms, the sound of a heartbeat slowing to a stop. My children will never know me as that parent and I will never know what I could have been.