Monday, September 1, 2014
Although I'm a teacher and still trying to cling to that "not knowing what day it is" mode, I woke this morning with a strange feeling. And I remembered.
It's been eleven years and I still don't know how I feel about September.
It's the month I lost my son. Learned what it felt like to have a piece of my heart die. The month I held him, loved him, turned from him as the nurse placed him in his bassinet so I wouldn't have to see him leave me~ forever.
It's the month I became a mother. Looked into the eyes of my son. Learned what it felt like to have a piece of my heart beat outside my body. The month I first held him, loved him, nursed him, took him home to start this great adventure of life together.
September is when my life ended. September is when my new life began.
A story that often has two parts.
Early on I believe my brain made a choice. Even in those early moments, seeing that beautiful pink baby at my side~ knowing he was getting colder~ staring at those eyes~ knowing they would never open~ I made a choice.
I would not waste this. I would make him matter. Always.
Yesterday I was in church and the message was "Why do bad things happen to good people?"
I have found myself asking that same question over the years.
When my friend's mom was diagnosed with cancer.
She lost her son.
Her husband had a stroke.
Another friend struggled with infertility for years.
Finally became a mother to a beautiful little girl.
Her daughter diagnosed with cancer at six week old.
And just this morning learning that my friends' seven year old daughter died last night.
A little girl who survived when her triplet brother and sister did not.
She's now reunited with them.
There are so many questions that I have, that I know will never be answered.
So many "Whys?"
That first September, I experienced my worst and best moments. Separated only by one minute.
That first September I chose to make him matter.
To "Not waste the Pain."
To make Andrew count.
To learn from him.
And this September, I plan to do the same~
As I watch my eleven year old start his last year of elementary school.
Play on the soccer field.
Tickle the ivories.
Smile. Laugh. Hug.
As I watch one, I will also remember the other.
But how grateful I am (and always will be).
(Please keep Rick, Kathy, and Cali in your prayers as they are missing their daughter/sister so very much. God-speed sweet Morgan. Dance and run with your siblings. Smile. Laugh. Hug.)