~Yes I know two blog posts in one day but I didn’t think this fit in with my random update.~
Yesterday in the Dr’s office as I mentioned earlier they asked me the weight of all my children born.I should say this is a local clinic and will not be my normal Dr once my insurance kicks in.
I gave them the closest weight of all my children at birth. Well all my children that had lived.
She actually asked the birthweight of Reed…my child that had been born at 26 weeks.
For a brief moment I looked at her and in my head saw myself screaming,”Are you serious you want me to remember the weight of my baby that went home to be with God while in my arms? Really?”
I imagined myself clawing the nurses eyes out for being so insensitive.Instead I gathered myself and my sanity and answered her in my best adult voice which I’m sure came out as the “I really can’t believe you’re asking me this” teenage voice….
“Um he was only like 3 pounds because he was ONLY 26 weeks!”
I didn’t think a little thing like Reed’s birthweight would set me off…I guess we never know what will set me off. But at that moment I was back in that hospital room holding my baby again as he drifted off to sleep.
And from that moment on I hated the nurse the rest of the visit.
I wish I could say I relaxed once we saw the heartbeat on the ultrasound.I know better than anyone that a heartbeat can be a very deceiving thing.My own heartbeat deceived me with Reed because it was the only thing that kept him alive the couple of weeks before he was born.Once that cord was cut there was nothing that could save him. Not even his own mother’s heartbeat.
About a month ago Kenna told me she wanted to play soccer this year.She told me she was ready to play again.Me not thinking asked her,”What do you mean you’re ready?”
I’m sure at that moment she had the same reaction I had had to the nurse in the office yesterday.In all her grace she simply answered,”I’m just ready to play again.Now I think I can.”
It hit me like a ton of bricks.Her soccer coach the first year we played was my best friends husband. The husband she lost a year later to suicide.
The husband for the last 3 years we’ve all been working on healing from losing.
Last Friday the girls’ school sent home soccer sign ups.
My daughter will play soccer this year if I have to stand on the street corner and beg for money.
This is her chance to heal. It may not heal her all the way but it will heal a part of her heart.The part that only she knows how to heal.
And it will probably hurt her the first couple of times she steps on that field.Hopefully though,she’ll find some kind of closure that none of us ever got.
Maybe she has thing figured out. Maybe she has realized how to heal ourselves.