A Magical Perspective

There’s something almost magical about experiencing such a devastating loss. Hear me out on this one, because I know the minute you read that sentence you thought, “how twisted is she to say something so sad is magical?!” And no, I don’t for one second think that losing my babies is “magical,” but I do think the perspective I’ve gained as a result is.

In these last weeks (it’s been about 10 since my boys’ birth into heaven,) I’ve been much more aware of the emotional state of people around me, and even strangers I’ve never met. There’ve been countless stories brought to my attention of families’ losses and tragedies in this world, and with this magical new perspective, I have a deepened empathy for the grief those people are experiencing.

I guess what they say is true, “You find what you look for.” When my life’s focus has been the angels I’m so desperately missing, I more keenly notice the many angels around me who’ve gone to join my sons.

I’ve talked with many other mothers who’ve either lost a baby in the past and gone on to have rainbows, or mothers who’ve just recently heard their own devastating news that the baby inside of them has gone home.

I’ve seen stories of others going to heaven that have struck me in my time of grief. One story, of another mother of twins, who passed away shortly after her C-section leaving her two newborns with her now widowed husband, has effected me deeply.

In hearing her story, I couldn’t help but imagine this sweet mama angel up there holding my boys and looking down on her strong husband as he pushes on in this life with their own children.

I also can’t help but feel for that man. I don’t know exactly what he’s experiencing, but I can imagine some of it.

The emptiness.

The feeling that moving forward would be impossible.

The knowledge that the hole in my heart would never fill.

The understanding that they’re “in a better place” but that place isn’t with me.

The wishing my own heart would stop so I could be with them.

There are days that these feelings come back to me in a waterfall, without even being provoked. There are still nights that I lay awake wishing for a cry of my babies to call me. There are moments, even still, of anger or frustration or emptiness.

The emptiness never really ends. It just reintroduces itself from time to time to remind me of what I’m missing. What others, who may be less deserving in my eyes, get to keep, but I had to let go.

But this is the month of thankfulness. So I have to find these silver linings, though my loss is no raincloud that can disappear when the sun decides to shine.

Regardless, there are some things- like my magical perspective- that bless my life through the knowledge and experience I’ve gained.

And so my challenge to you today is to empathize. Share a tear with a friend who’s in need. Or donate to a stranger who’s world has seemingly come to an end. Although it sometimes may be hard to recognize, we are blessed in so many ways, and sharing your time, energy and love can only help you see the beauty in your own life.