Monday, December 17, 2012

From a Mother who has Lost

My eyes are burning. They are burning so much that my head is aching. My heart is also aching, but that is what caused my eyes to burn. I am completely broken hearted and kneeling at the foot of the cross in prayer for so many right now. Please bare with me as this post will most likely be scattered because with burning eyes and an aching heart and head you never know what you are going to get in an end result. Sometimes I blog just to get it out of my head - writing my thoughts is much more thereputic to me than speaking words or letting the words float in my head. The latter makes me crazy - so crazy sometimes that I dread the alone times {luckily they are very few} and bedtime.

Maybe I should start at the beginning. I am grateful everyday for my sweet Heidi. Those of you that know me personally or "know" me through this blog know how much we prayed for Heidi and what John and I went through before Heidi. In one month it will be four years since we last saw and held our sweet Hudson. Life has changed tremendously since then and I am grateful for each and every second of what I have experienced. I am even grateful for the loss of my sweet son. That may sound horrible and strange to some of you, but it has taught me a lesson many of you will never know. Please do not get me wrong, I miss and ache for my son everyday, every second. I wish he was here to play with his loving sister and to welcome home his little brother.

I know what it is like to lose the most precious thing you could ever call yours. I know what it is like to not be able to watch a child's first kiss, first day of school, graduation, and pre-school plays. Watching a mother-son dance at a wedding can bring me to tears knowing that will never be me and Hudson. Knowing all of this makes me grieve daily. If I let myself I could have a pity party at every single event I attend. I almost did when watching the 3-year olds perform at Heidi's Christmas performance knowing that Hudson would be right there in the middle of them. What good would that be? It has only been four years, but sorry I feel there is not a limit to the learning curve when dealing with the loss of a child. Grief will show its ugly head for the rest of my life.

Back the grateful part. I am grateful because of how I view my life and time with Heidi. I know that at any minute it could be my last. When something so precious as an innocent child is ripped suddenly from your life you learn that the hard way. Even if you never took your blessing for granted you still are forever changed and have a different view of how short and precious time with your loved ones really is a beautiful treasure. I never go a day, a goodbye, a night, or a conversation without saying "I love you". It is pretty obvious we say that a lot in our house because she says it to us constantly. Kisses and hugs are as common as breathing. A day does not go by where I do not tearfully thank God for the most precious blessing I could not deserve.

On Friday the 14th I saw little mini feeds pop up on my phone from family and friends and I knew something horrible happened. I didn't want to know because when I know about awful things happening I never forget them and I imagine myself all too closely in the situation. About an hour later my sister asked me if I heard and she told me. I just stared at her blankly knowing that any movement would cause a hysterical cry.

Then the feeds on facebook exploded. Half of them I could not read because my eyes were in such a blur. There were the posts about these precious angels and the "firsts" that they would never be able to experience. I didn't need to hear their names or see their little faces because even looking at them I only see my precious Heidi. The scenes that I still to this moment have not watched play over and over in my head. The scenes haunt my already horrible dreams.

I feel as if I lost my own child in this massacre. Most people post about hugging their children extra tight and feeling blessed to have one more night with their child. I do these things already. I have already learned this lesson, so what do these events do to people like me? They devastate me completely. My eyes are burning because I have been crying over these children and imagining losing my child. Only I don't have to fully imagine because I know what it is like. The difference is I would be losing someone who has brought me such pure joy into my life. My loss of Hudson is a devistating loss and most cannot imagine the pain, but the loss of a child you have watched grow and develop? I cannot even compare my loss to that. I cannot compare, but I can imagine.

I know that if it were me who had just experienced the worst kind of pain and grief one could go through I would not want people jumping on gun law bandwagons, mental illness campaigns, or seeing a continuous banter of solutions. These things will come, but right now these families need to grieve. We need to give them that respect. Grieve first, solve the problems later. The way the media takes these stories and runs with them is sickening. I am sure these families cannot even listen to a common Christmas carol without being reminded of what took their precious angels and family members much less see everyone coming up with ways this "could have been prevented". Let these poor families have their season of grief. I know that immediately after losing Hudson I did not want to think about anything but my sweet boy and to grieve. It was not until months later that I was ready to face the other things.

The harsh reality is when it is time it is time. No one is immune to experiencing loss or death. Even in the safest place, the womb of a mother a baby can die. We can try as we might to do our very best to protect our family. It will never be enough because the punishment of sin is death and we must all face it. As much as I want to place my family in a bubble it would never be enough. Not only is it not enough, but it's not what we are called to do as Christians.

These thoughts and so many others play in my head. I sat at my doctors office just sobbing because of the grief these families are dealing with and facing. The ones who had their lives taken will forever be in our nation's hearts, if not the nation, but in mine for sure.

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