After the loss of a child there are so many "firsts" you have to overcome. The first day living without them in your arms or in your physical sight. The first time someone asks you about them without knowing the circumstance. The first time you are able to speak their name without breaking down. Their first birthday without them here. This week I experienced a first, this week I had my first day back to work; back to reality, back to the norm, back to how it all was before the chaos began. I had so many mixed emotions regarding my return to work: fear, joy, sadness, excitement. Would it feel like nothing happened? Would life just pretend to return to normal even though it wasn't? Would my mind be able to handle it all? I honestly couldn't tell you if I felt ready, but I knew I had to face the day at some point and the place that I had now found myself wasn't going to change, so it was time to take a deep breath, soak it all in and go for it.
It's been an overpowering week, to say the least, showing me each emotion noted above at some point but also showing me a sense of serenity and peacefulness; reminding me of the joys of life and the "normality" of life before this journey took a turn I wasn't predicting. I can honestly say that not a single moment went by that I wasn't thinking of her or wishing that I could answer those "How's your baby?" questions so much differently. My heart hurts so much when I think about her but I never take those moments for granted because it reminds me of how connected her and I were and how much I love her with every breath I take. If you take the time to look you can most definitely find a sense of beauty in sorrow, because without sorrow we would never know the reality of true grace and fullness.
Adam and I also met with the high risk fetal monitoring specialist for the first time since Harper's passing. He was the first one to embark on this unimaginable journey with us since he was the one to have found and diagnosed the hydrops. He was the doctor who gave Adam and I the hope we needed to endure the four weeks in the hospital leading up to Harpers delivery and he was the doctor who helped me discover and become a part of my daughter's personality and spirit in utero. Prior to the appointment lots of tears were shed because I knew seeing him for the first time and the closing of this chapter would not be an easy task. It was most certainly an informative meeting and during our visit we attempted to put as many broken pieces back together as possible.
At one point during our chat the doctor looked at my husband and I and said "I have to tell you two there really is absolutely no medical reason why this should have happened. There is no reason why there should have been fluid around her lungs. I'm so sorry we don't have answers but we do know that she didn't have any structural defects, her genetic make up was flawless and there were no infections to be found."
If I could have crawled into a deep dark hole at that moment I most certainly would have. I had been doing so well to lock up and contain the anger that I had felt so much after my daughter left this earthly life. If there wasn't a medical reason than WHY did this have to happen? WHY couldn't she be here with us right now? WHY were we the chosen ones to go through this pain and hurt?
My answers to these questions go back to when I was in the third grade. I remember sitting in class listening to my teacher lecture on eternal life and the joys of heaven; explaining God the Father and his master plans for each of us. I remember raising my hand to ask what I believed to be a very pertinent question "You may not have an answer to this question but how do we know that God truly exists and that there really is a heaven?" She smiled and looked at me and said "Actually Kate, I do have an answer for you." She walked slowly to the chalkboard and wrote in all capital letters one word...
FAITH.
Who would have guessed that a third grade religion class is what has helped to give me the courage to push forward through this unimaginable journey. Who would have guessed that I would ever feel like I had to rely so heavily on one word; a word I now know holds so much meaning. Sometimes I beg the Lord to take me back to the days before this all happened, to the days where I was so naïve to what pain could truly feel like. But with those days there would be no Harper and my eyes would still be closed to the true meaning of life and the value each of us have while we are here on earth, whether it be for a long time or just a short little while. I wish with all of my heart there was a different ending to my story but I am so grateful for the lessons Harper has taught me and the absolute joy she brings to me every day of my life. I have her to thank when I look deep within my soul and find strength I didn't know existed and discover a deeper more meaningful existence to my being. So with my little girl's arms wrapped around my heart and soul I will pick up another broken piece and place it along the path leading me towards her light so that one day I can hold her in my arms again and watch her as she smiles and tells me all about God's plan.
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