Thursday, October 14, 2010

Marvellous Monday: Wednesday edition part deux

As promised, here's the continuation of the story...
(Haven't read part one yet? Go here or you'll be wondering what the heck is going on!)

Well, that little fella, he wiggled and jiggled right up until it he finally made it out. However, by the time he was in our arms, he was already gone. We were left alone in the delivery room with our little guy. To be honest, I barely cried. I was all cried out from the whole week before, I think. Not only that, but there was an incredibly peaceful feeling in the room. The only way to describe it, is to say that heaven was close enough to touch. It's the only time in my life where I've felt that way, and I can tell you that it was real, and that it helped carry me through some of the more difficult moments.

I don't want to gloss over the aftermath of our loss - it was hard - but we pulled together as a family and made it through. For the most part, I wasn't too sad, but for months afterward, I would have vivid dreams and wake up crying on a soaking wet pillow. On the whole, though, we dealt with it pretty well, and I delivered a healthy baby a short eleven months later. A lot of people thought we were crazy to have another one, especially after dealing with the diagnosis of #2's cerebral palsy. In fact, some people said we should give up and just adopt in case we ended up with more "problems", but I'm stubborn and wasn't going to let a few setbacks keep me from having kids (if I could help it...). Although I had several miscarriages in between my last 2 children, we ended up with five beautiful, living children, and I'd have gone for more if my body hadn't given out on me. I love being a mom, and I think it's something I'm good at. But I digress...

Are you still with me? I hope so, because the purpose of these posts isn't to make you feel sad (and definitely not sorry for me - I'm fine!). Rather, I'd like to tell you a couple of reasons why I'm grateful for the experience and why I wouldn't trade it for anything.

First off, it made me more sympathetic to other peoples' suffering. I still deal with things logically, but I have a much better understanding of what others go through. I'm the same logical, even-keeled person, but I can relate better to others who aren't. This is something that I've not perfected - the first reaction in my head is usually "that stinks, but it's not the end of the world so get on with it" - but just being able to truly empathize with others is a huge improvement and has served me well over the last decade since losing our son.

Second of all, a short time after our loss, some friends of ours ended up in the same situation (only with a different birth defect). They told us that they never would've been able to get through it if they hadn't seen how well we dealt with our situation. Ironically enough, they were our only friends who really talked with us about the baby after he died. Everyone else was too sad, or felt too awkward to bring it up when I wanted nothing more than to talk about his ski feet, and long, slender fingers! Ignoring that he was real, and that we held him in our arms was a little hurtful, although I do understand how difficult others felt about the situation. Also, I was able to tell that couple some things we would've done differently (such as taking more pictures, spending more time with him, etc). In any case, I was so glad that our experience could help them in some way.

So there you have it. A huge trial, and a few of the reasons I am truly thankful for it. I'm really not one of those people who pretends to be happy for the sake of appearances, so I hope you can feel the sincerity in my words. If not, then I obviously need to hone my skills before I'm published, hehe. ;o)

In the end, what I really hope is that others can see that eventually time heals all wounds if you let it, and that you can also find happiness in the painful moments if you keep the proper perspective.

So, I hesitate to ask this for fear that everyone think I'm crazy...but does anyone else appreciate the tough times like I do?



Laura said...

I had no idea about your third little one, Tracy. Thanks for sharing. I whole-heartedly agree - there is nothing more precious to me than the trials that have made me who I am. I have few regrets in my life - the hardships and trials I have gone through are not on that list! It seems to me that without hard times and difficult decisions to make I would be a very boring person. I certainly have more sympathy for others. I also like to think that I'm a stronger person having made my way to other side of a few trials!


Jolene Perry said...

They're definitely when we grow the most. It's even better if we can recognize the opportunity in the moment and it doesn't always happen.

Tracy Loewer said...

I hate to think of how much weaker I'd be without those trying times and I'm so glad to have such an interesting person for a friend, Laura!

And so true, Jolene. It can be very difficult to recognize the good when you're in the thick of things.

Cinette said...

I've never had to face the tragedy that you have,(my condolences) but I've lived through times that have changed me into another person that those from my teenage years wouldn't recognize. But I like who I am now. Tough times reshape us, and that's okay. Like a piece of metal hammered on the anvil, or sand transformed into glass, something new and exciting is formed.

Shannon O'Donnell said...

I do feel sad, but I also feel the sincerity of your words - writing skills well-honed! One of my favorite songs is "Praise You in This Storm" by Casting Crowns. I love it because it reminds me that everything happens for a reason and that we are meant to praise God for both the good AND the bad. It is not easy or fun. I tend to be a very positive, look on the bright side kind of person, but I am also deeply emotional. I use whatever I can - usually books and music - to help keep myself grounded and focused on what's really important. I guess that makes my answer close to a yes?? :-)

Thank you for sharing your story, Tracy. (((hugs)))