Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Just Random Things

I'm Restless

I'm at work, and I know I don't want to be here right now. I'd rather be at home taking care of Dylan. There are random times in my day-to-day life when I stop because I get the overwhelming feeling that I should be doing something, and then I realize exactly what it is. I should be taking care of Dylan. I haven't personally felt the "heavy arms" phenomenon, but maybe this is what it feels like to have a heavy heart.

My Husband's Profound

I know that what Justin and I share is a deep and passionate and profound love. It's what I've always wanted in my life. Justin completes me; we complete each other. The sheer and utter strength of our relationship having survived what we have this year will only continue to grow.

And when I have no words (which is rare), he always has the perfect ones. Yesterday, he cc'd me on an e-mail he wrote to his aunt. His words were so touching and eloquent: "Its become very easy and even refreshing to talk about Dylan, and always wonderful to look at pictures of him. We've got them up all over and can't help but smile every time we see our little angel. We know that he's with God in Heaven and nothing ill can come to him now. We take comfort in knowing that HE's the lucky one, and WE're the ones that have to work through this rough world. We just have to remember that our hearts may be broken with him gone, but our spirits are whole with Christ."

Justin is so inspiring. After everything went down with Dylan, there was one constant that I could find peace in: "I know one thing's for sure. Justin is a wonderful father," I would tell people. Most people don't get a chance to "test-drive" their parenting skills (pardon the analogy). But I had the utmost pleasure to watch Justin in action. I can stand firm in knowing that there isn't a prouder or better or more loving father out there.

Closing Borrowed Writing

A Different Child
by Pandora MacMillian

People notice
There's a special glow around you.

You grow
Surrounded by love,
Never doubting you are wanted;
Only look at the pride and joy
In your mother and father's eyes.

And if sometimes
Between the smiles
There's a trace of tears,
One day
You'll understand.

You'll understand
There was once another child
A different child
Who was in their hopes and dreams.

That child will never outgrow the baby clothes
That child will never keep them up at night
In fact, that child will never be any trouble at all.

Except sometimes, in a silent moment,
When mother and father miss so much
That different child.

May hope and love wrap you warmly
And may you learn the lesson forever
How infinitely precious
How infinitely fragile
Is this life on earth.

One day, as a young man or woman
You may see another mother's tears
Another father's silent grief
Then you, and you alone
Will understand
And offer the greatest comfort.

When all hope seems lost,
You will tell them
With great compassion,
"I know how you feel.
I'm only here
Because my mother tried again."

1 comment:

Sara said...

I just got finished reading your blog. I am so sorry for the loss of your Dylan. He's such a beautiful boy.
We have a lot of similarities. I, too, have pre-existing high blood pressure, which led to preeclampsia. Samuel was my first baby, and he lived a glorious 5 days.
I am glad you came to my blog - I look forward to getting to know you. It is nice to meet new people who understand what losing a child is like.
You write beautifully. I wept as I read each of your posts.