Death From Child Birth
A good friend of mine recently told me that her best friend's sister-in-law passed away shortly after giving birth. I was dumbfounded. I just didn't think that happened anymore. And then immediately my heart went out to the woman's husband and children. She left behind not only the newborn baby, but a two year old child as well, with a dad who had never even packed a diaper bag before. I cannot begin to imagine what that family is going through.
As my friend was telling me this tragic story about her best friend's family, I felt myself growing very emotional, with tears coming to my eyes and a sinking feeling in my chest. Here I have never met that family, nor will I probably ever meet them, because they live across the country, but instantly I was pained by their story. The thing is, that pain wasn't just pain I felt in the moment, instead I took that pain home with me and kept thinking about it. I still can't get it out of my mind, which is essentially why I'm now writing about it.
When I was talking to my mom about the story, she said, "it probably bothers you so much, because you're not that far removed from it." Meaning, it was just about 4 years ago, that I too, gave birth to my second baby. Like that mom, I too, had a two year old waiting for me to come home with the new baby. Since hearing of this woman's death, I've found myself questioning why I was chosen to survive child birth, not only once, but twice? Why did I get to bring my second baby home to become a happy and healthy family of four and she did not?
I have to keep reminding myself, of something that I always say, "everything happens for a reason." Including death? Right? I will not claim to understand death, nor say that I understand why some people die young and others die old, because I don't. But I honestly do believe that we all die when we are supposed to, when our time here on Earth is done, no matter how short or long that time may have been.
That's not to say, I don't feel for the family that recently lost their wife and mom, because I do. I really do. It breaks my heart to think that new baby is never going to know it's mom and that two year old may have very little, if any memories of her, as he grows older. I feel for the father of those children, who will remember everything about his wife and will see her in his children, which will be a blessing though quite possibly a painful one. It is such a sad story and strikes me, because you so rarely hear of death from child birth anymore.
I am beyond grateful to have been given the chance to be my boys' mommy and hope to be here for them well until they are grown men with families of their own. Maybe I can even stick around for grandchildren and great grandchildren. I cannot imagine my boys growing up without their mommy. Nor my husband raising them as a widower and single father.
As with many things in life, I have a tendency to compare my life with other people's lives and in this case, I find myself feeling somewhat guilty for being grateful that I am alive and here for my family. So while I am grateful that I have them and they have me, I do feel ashamed for using this story as a reminder of how blessed I am to be able to raise my children with my husband.
As my friend was telling me this tragic story about her best friend's family, I felt myself growing very emotional, with tears coming to my eyes and a sinking feeling in my chest. Here I have never met that family, nor will I probably ever meet them, because they live across the country, but instantly I was pained by their story. The thing is, that pain wasn't just pain I felt in the moment, instead I took that pain home with me and kept thinking about it. I still can't get it out of my mind, which is essentially why I'm now writing about it.
When I was talking to my mom about the story, she said, "it probably bothers you so much, because you're not that far removed from it." Meaning, it was just about 4 years ago, that I too, gave birth to my second baby. Like that mom, I too, had a two year old waiting for me to come home with the new baby. Since hearing of this woman's death, I've found myself questioning why I was chosen to survive child birth, not only once, but twice? Why did I get to bring my second baby home to become a happy and healthy family of four and she did not?
I have to keep reminding myself, of something that I always say, "everything happens for a reason." Including death? Right? I will not claim to understand death, nor say that I understand why some people die young and others die old, because I don't. But I honestly do believe that we all die when we are supposed to, when our time here on Earth is done, no matter how short or long that time may have been.
That's not to say, I don't feel for the family that recently lost their wife and mom, because I do. I really do. It breaks my heart to think that new baby is never going to know it's mom and that two year old may have very little, if any memories of her, as he grows older. I feel for the father of those children, who will remember everything about his wife and will see her in his children, which will be a blessing though quite possibly a painful one. It is such a sad story and strikes me, because you so rarely hear of death from child birth anymore.
I am beyond grateful to have been given the chance to be my boys' mommy and hope to be here for them well until they are grown men with families of their own. Maybe I can even stick around for grandchildren and great grandchildren. I cannot imagine my boys growing up without their mommy. Nor my husband raising them as a widower and single father.
As with many things in life, I have a tendency to compare my life with other people's lives and in this case, I find myself feeling somewhat guilty for being grateful that I am alive and here for my family. So while I am grateful that I have them and they have me, I do feel ashamed for using this story as a reminder of how blessed I am to be able to raise my children with my husband.
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