Sunday, October 28, 2013
Mark suggested that I post some of my writing assignments from school this semester on the blog. Since the blog has suffered a little neglect since we started the crazy transient life of a family in clinical rotations, I thought, "sure why not?" Hopefully, a little action on the blog will remind me to give it more attention than I have been. I surely need to practice my writing and this is as good an avenue as any.
This is an assignment that corresponds with the This I Believe project/campaign that was started in the 1950's. It is a public dialogue about the beliefs of people from all walks of life. This I Believe, executive producer Dan Gediman said, “The
goal is not to persuade Americans to agree on the same beliefs. Rather, the
hope is to encourage people to begin the much more difficult task of developing
respect for beliefs different from their own.”
You should check out their website. There is a good chance that some of your mentors might be included in the essays (such as Jackie Robinson, Albert Einstein, Hellen Keller, and Maria von Trapp). Serious, go check it out.
Eyes Toward the Sun
I believe gratitude heals broken
hearts. Sometimes our lives don’t pan
out exactly like we’ve hoped. Have you ever dreamed about winning the lottery? Winning it big would make a person’s
life pretty great, wouldn’t it? How
would you respond if you didn’t win?
What are you going to do? Cry,
sulk, allow depression to overtake you?
That would be pretty silly to get upset about something that God, or
say, the Universe didn’t give you, right?
For me, the lottery scenario, as trivial as it might seem, helped put
things in a better perspective. Even
though I didn’t win one of life's metaphorical lotteries, there was still much to be
thankful for.
April 3, 2013 was another quiet day
as my seventeen-month old daughter, Eden, and I played together at home while
Daddy was away at school. Not long after
Eden went down for her afternoon nap, I rushed to the bathroom. My heart sank as I saw the familiar signs.
I recognized the process of what
was happening. I tried to convince
myself it wasn’t and it could possibly be attributed to something different,
but I knew better. Two previous times in
the last nine months I had experienced these symptoms; my body was aborting my
pregnancy. I was helpless as I watched the
loss of yet another developing baby.
The sparkle that had been in my eye
disappeared immediately. I refused to
cry because to me that would have been admission of certainty that I wasn’t
willing to concede to then. I prayed
asking that it might not be what it seemed it was.
Into the night the symptoms
persisted. I was rapidly growing
weaker. Despite my husband’s demands
that we go to the hospital, I refused.
With no more strength left to argue, let alone stand, he picked my limp
body up off the ground and carried me to the car.
My cousin drove from a distance
away where she lived to our small little town to take Eden for the night.
At the hospital after an IV, tests,
ultra-sounds, and the same questions asked over and over by different medical
staff, we were left to wait in the sterile ER room. I thought to myself, “Maybe it is with dual
purpose that these rooms are so cold and austere feeling?” It ensures a
hospital visit to be more like a business transaction – a brief exchange of
information, straightforward and as little emotion as possible.
In the early morning hours, we
finally received the long awaited results. The doctor informed us that I had indeed “lost
the pregnancy.”
I was grateful for the lack of embellished
words that night. I was grateful for the
ambiguous cold of that stainless steel room.
I was numb and unwilling to think of my disappointed hopes and my desire
to give Eden a best friend with whom she could play. It helped me forget the burning desire, which
emanated from my very core, to bring forth another spirit from Heaven. It assisted me in temporarily forgetting the
photo of a smiling Eden we had sent to family and friends a few weeks back with
her holding a sign that announced, “Big Sister.”
We thanked the doctors and staff
and went home.
My husband and I were grateful for
the remaining time that night to be alone and to exist as husband and wife and
receive strength through our bond of love.
In the morning we drove to meet my cousin and
pick up Eden. We joined Eden in her
excitement to have just experienced the first sleepover of her young life. We embraced her tightly. It is probably because of our loss that we
were that much more aware of the blessing and miracle that had come to us at
her birth. She made us a family of three
and for now we would continue as such – celebrating our happy moments and
milestones (such as first sleepovers with cousins), loving each other as richly
as our capacities would allow, and being grateful for the day in front of us that
demanded to be lived and its potential exhausted.
While I initially mourned our loss,
I could not be permanently sad for not having received another child into our
family. My Heavenly Parents have given
me one of Their spirit children. She is
ultimately Theirs and so are all children that come into this life. If Heavenly Father desires another one of His
children come to our family and our stewardship, then accompanying our righteous
desires, it will be so.
I resolved that I would be grateful
for those people and those blessings in front of me. For a period of time, I mourned the loss of
another precious soul coming to our family but I simultaneously recognized my
family is as Heavenly Father would have it be.
I believe gratitude heals broken
hearts. To cast our eyes in the
direction of the light is restorative of our joy. Despite the bitterness of disappointed hopes
or expectations, there is a world of beauty and wonder in front of us that
deserves to be savored and appreciated.
The time to live and be cheerful is now.
“Therefore, let your hearts be
comforted concerning Zion; for all flesh is in mine hands; be still and know
that I am God.” - Doctrine and Covenants
101:16
These things I know.
