Sunday, April 22, 2012

Many Say It But Few Really Mean It

It takes a sudden traumatic experience to really feel close to the reality of death, and to truly, truly behold the fragility of life. To really grasp how fast our lives, and life can stop, how in an instant it can just end...quietly. The very recent death of a friends child, her sweet baby has brought me right back to this reality of life. This dear mama, who knew she would not have sweet bliss to kiss and kiss and kiss her babes warm lips. She carried her precious one, knowing he would not survive to live and breathe.

To those who have never walked this path...the path that has lead to bittersweet loss, baby and child loss...you can not know what this cliff of death and darkness feels like. You can assume to know, but you can't ever truly know. I wish I didn't know this path, or that dark, steep cliff...and then the silent place. The motionless child who's pink lips change to a deep hue of blue, then to black. The weight of my motionless, lifeless lovely girl... Only those who have faced this reality, this truth, the flip side of innocent everyday life, only we can really know how damn precious each and every moment of living is. I have come to know too many ways of pregnancy loss, I know far too many who have lost. It's so damn hard for me to meet an innocent pregnant woman sometimes, I always feel like I want to protect her from what "could possibly" happen to her baby. Feeling the need to implore her to not take anything about their pregnancy or her baby for granted, because, the reality is as many of us know, you may not get to take your baby home with you.

So much has been happening around here in our home. Difficulty and struggle, growing and changing...the waxing and waning of feelings and emotions. Truth is, when it comes down to the miniscule moments, it is always with me that things could just STOP. At any time, my heart could stop beating. At any time, this reality that we have come to know...5 years after Birdie's death could just suddenly cease.

We all get so damn used to what we "think" is our reality. Forgetting that we are just energy, we are just water and skin...here on this precious earth. We have built up our cities and towns, we merge everyday with the "realities" of others. We cross the street, we walk, stepping, stepping. Lifting one foot, then the other as we daydream about that delicious cup of coffee. We don't really stop to think, to really be in each moment. We don't stop to look up at the sky, to watch clouds pass overhead, to watch the way the birds search for worms along the ground. We don't just stop to experience our lives, our realities...

It's a struggle, to stop and slow down. We are moving too fast in this life.

In no way do I mean to imply that I am perfect at this either, but I try really damn hard to stop, to look around at the world, to look up at the sky, to really LIVE my life.


So, how can you really, truly know how precious life is, if you have never held a lifeless child in your arms? I don't know that you can.

4 comments:

Aimee said...

Love to you, Erin! I have had this discussion with people as well and I have come to the conclusion that they will never get it, but that they don't ever want to hear that they will never get it because if you tell them they will never get it, they get mad and tell you that they DO get it (but we all know they don't!) So believe me, I GET IT!

Deep breath, Mama! Your growing family is so beautiful!

laura said...

Hi. I got a message from blogger that someone had requested a recovery email on one of my private blogs, and the email listed this blog (erinnewmanlong) as one if several blogs if which I was a member. I was a baby loss blogger, too, so maybe our paths crossed, but I can't imagine why I'd be a member here. Do you have any idea? Or have you tried to access a blog about flying standby?

laura said...

Sorry. Those ifs should be ofs - late night fat thumbs on touch screens.

laura said...

Thank you for sharing this. It IS a struggle to stop and slow down for me. My way of coping with losing my son is to keep busy, run around, and find distractions. I often feel like I have this secret that noone else who has lost a baby knows about...that all life is fragile. And that whatever you hold dearly can disappear in the blink of an eye.
I'm glad you're writing again. I check in to this blog every once in a while when I need to remember that I'm not alone in my suffering.
~Laura