Dividing Lines

When my daughter died, there was no one to blame. Believe me, I tried to find someone.

I wanted to blame myself. But that didn't work. I had taken my prenatal vitamins. I never missed a checkup. I was a healthy 23 year old. I didn't smoke, drink or do drugs. Of course I was far from perfect. But overall I was a good girl, did everything pretty much by the book.

Blame my husband? Nope, that didn't work either. He didn't cause her Trisomy 18. He desperately wanted to fix everything, and felt completely helpless when he couldn't.

What about the doctors? No such luck. They diagnosed the problem as soon as signs appeared. They were compassionate and amazingly thorough. Couldn't blame them either.

No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't find a person on this earth to blame; therefore, I blamed God. I stayed angry for a solid 3 years. Since I couldn't save my child from her own chromosomes, thus allowing her to live in this world, I chose to become pissed at the world. And God had created it, so who better to blame? Do you know what it feels like to have a full-term baby, a human being, die inside of you? Trust me, you want someone to blame. Your rational mind tells you blame won't bring the child back to you. Blame will not erase the horror of that moment when you realized your first child would never go home to the nursery you lovingly prepared. Blame does nothing but fuel the fire that's already raging.

You may wonder why I speak and write of my firstborn so frequently. It is because the majority of my life lessons have stemmed from my experiences with her. I know others have similar experiences and never speak of them. But, with the death of my firstborn, a passion ignited within my soul. She was my defining moment. In 1996, the dividing line in my life was etched... "pre-Victoria" and "post-Victoria".

When we found out our child would not live, there were many questions. Would she be born alive? If so, how would doctors keep her alive long enough to perform surgery on this tiny infant? They would have to remove her heart, and reconstruct it. How long, if at all, would she live after that surgery? Her little body was full of tumors and defects. I sincerely believed we could survive all of the above. I just needed her to be born alive, so that I could look into her eyes. Just once. I never dreamed that would be too much to ask. I remember telling my family that I would survive, as long as she wasn't stillborn. I needed to share just one moment with my first child, both of us having open eyes.

Take my experience and please see that even under the most loving circumstances, death can wreak havoc in the lives of those it touches. My heart was shattered with the passing of my child, and all she ever knew was peace. All she ever knew of this world was warmth, light, and love. The only negativity surrounding the death of my child was that which I knowingly invited into my life. I did not invite grief, but I also don't believe grief is negative. Grieving allows us to heal. I chose anger. I also chose bitterness. I invited them in, and they became my constant companions. No one forced anything upon me.

What if the opposite happens, and all the negativity is forced into your life? My heart truly aches for the families of those lost in the recent Tucson tragedy. Tremendous pain has been forced upon them. So much hate, fear, and bitterness that they did not invite into their lives. It saddens me beyond what I can describe. This was a tragedy, it needs no dramatization. But unfortunately, as can be witnessed in the media, there are those determined to do just that. This post is not at all what I thought I would be writing. Over the past few days, I have spent hours researching, successfully dredging up nasty comments from politicians on both sides of the aisle. It became quite clear. You can easily find countless statements to support your opinion of who is to blame. And I had every intention of showing that politicians and talk radio hosts, from every political party and all walks of life, have made vitriolic comments. I had every intention of naming names. I was set on pointing out that regardless of what is reported, the rhetoric flows all too freely from both sides. And the majority of us (those who are stable, healthy individuals) are capable of discernment.

In the end, my heart got the best of me. I thank Victoria for that. My nature moves me toward cynicism. I often say I'm a realist when, truth be told, that's just my way of sugar-coating the pessimism. Thankfully, the lessons learned from my daughter move me to greater things, if I allow them. I don't want to be part of the nasty back and forth. Call me naive, but I just won't believe it represents who we really are, not collectively anyway. I choose to believe that the majority of us prefer civility, and wish our government officials would speak more kindly. Most importantly, all the blame in the world will not return lost loved ones to their families. They are hurting enough already. When my child died, there was no firestorm surrounding my grief. There was no media blitz, no barrage of opinions or outbursts beating down my door. And still, I wasn't sure if I could survive that pain. How must the family members in Tucson feel? I can't imagine.

Having a stillborn child robbed me of many moments. Christmas mornings with all of my children together, family pictures with all six of us smiling...I could go on and on. But more than what was taken from me, is what I gained. Empathy, and the desire to rid my life of any more dividing lines. The "pre-Victoria"/"post-Victoria" dividing line is more than enough for me. I will certainly always have opinions. But I know that I honor my daughter most when I refuse to allow those opinions to fuel fires and foster division.

Who Knew?

You most certainly can make up for lost time.

And I highly recommend it.

Heavy Heart

September 29, a family friend paid the ultimate sacrifice while serving our country. Please keep this dear family in your thoughts and prayers. I love them and am deeply saddened by the tragic loss of Senior Airman Mark Forester.

Click to read Tribute to an American Hero - Mark Forester, beautifully written by one of Mark's best friends.

Dear Victoria,

Tomorrow we celebrate your 14th birthday. It seems unreal that so many years have come and gone since your father & I held you. In the past, I felt I wasn't "handling" losing you as gracefully as other mothers handled stillbirth. Each mother walks a very individual path, and no one benefits from comparisons. But, over and over again I would wonder: is it because you were my first, because we returned to a silent home with no other children to hold, or because I was naive and Trisomy 18 had never crossed my mind, or possibly because I was only 23 years old and everything I had known and believed, up to that very moment in my life, was crumbling? What a blessing to finally understand that I have "handled" losing you exactly as your mother should. Not in the way anyone else would, but the very way I was meant to manage this life without you.

I want you to know that you have a little 6 year old sister keenly aware of your presence. She speaks of you often, and it never ceases to amaze me. One of my greatest fears was that this world would forget you. That because we never had the opportunity to share birthday parties and school photographs, no one would remember you. I believe, without a doubt, Chloe feels you close by her. At random times, she will ask me to take your box from the closet. She looks at your picture, reads the cards and letters we received during that time, holds your little hat and tiny dress. When I least expect it, she will begin talking about you and how she wishes you were here so she could play with you. Tonight she said, "It would be super fun if Victoria was here because it would be just the same as having another Cade, except Cade's only 12 and he's not a girl." It made us laugh. And I can not, will not, deny that in those moments, I am receiving a true gift from God...sweet confirmation that you will never be forgotten.

It is remarkable, all that I have learned from you. Of course, we both know that for several years I fought learning many of the lessons. Thankfully, I'm finished fighting and much more interested in putting the lessons to great use. Do you know that I never hesitate telling people I love them...even if it makes them squirm a little because they aren't open books, like me. And, have you noticed that I love to laugh? You were probably stunned by how hard-headed I was, by how long it took me to realize that I honor you most when I live my life to its fullest.

I have so many questions. It's hard being your mother and not knowing your favorite color, what your laugh sounds like, your favorite bedtime story, all the places in this world you would have liked to visit, your hopes and dreams. But I've become okay with not having all the answers. I don't understand most of what happens in this life, and I'm finally okay with that too. Because I believe in something far greater than the here and now.

Loving you always,

Mom

Promises

Remembering Victoria

Homecoming

He is home. (Insert tremendous sigh of relief and a huge smile.) Actually, he's been home for almost 4 weeks. I've not been able to write about how I'm feeling until now. And even today, the thoughts refuse to flow fluidly. They are choppy, messy, scattered. Nine months. That is how much time, from my life with him, was taken from me. My husband spent the majority of his deployment in an unsafe, unsecured, remote area of Iraq. I'm unable to listen to many of his stories. Most of the ones I do hear are equal parts heartbreaking and infuriating. I can't begin to express my relief and gratitude that he has returned safely. The fact that many other families do not have such an outcome is never lost on me. That fact is always in my mind. And it is hard to bear. We only gave nine months, many others give and lose so much more.

War has made me cynical, and less capable of trusting those around me. My family suffered at the hands of others' self-serving interests, in ways I will never be able to freely discuss. When it comes to this world of ours, war has left me feeling cold and bitter. Therein lies the contradiction. One moment I feel cynicism gnawing...I am discouraged and overwhelmed with aggravation toward the people with whom I am forced to share this planet. A few moments later, I feel a softness in my heart that overcomes me. War granted me opportunities to see the very best in people. Experiences that have helped me love others more freely. Experiences that have left me ready to live fully, and enjoy my time on this Earth. My family felt the uplifting, strengthening power of prayer, our own as well as the prayers and "good vibes" of many others on our behalf. Selfish isn't it? The way I speak of how war has impacted my life?

What about him? For months, he lived in absolutely disgusting conditions, and rarely had a decent meal. The aid station, where he provided medical care for Americans & Iraqis, was hit. Mortar attacks were frequent, and robbed him of even one peaceful night's sleep. He was often conflicted, and left wondering why he was there. My husband longed to be home with us. It was hard for a man, who loves his family so dearly, to miss events such as his oldest son receiving the Priesthood. But he also missed things like taking the kids to school, Saturday chores, doing laundry...things that most of us find mundane, possibly even annoying. He has returned, a man closer to God. A man ready to live this life to the fullest. He has taught me much about forgiveness and patience. He has been blessed with an answer to the question that often dogged him. He knows, without doubt, why he went to Iraq. The answer is beautiful and has very little, if anything, to do with war. But everything to do with love, inner peace, and purpose.

What about our children? In two words: innocence lost. They lived months apart from their father, and it hurt. But, that separation has made them far more appreciative of the time they now have with him. They take very little of life "for granted". My children have learned the true meanings of gratitude and service, as well as gaining a clear understanding of what it means to sacrifice. They have had life lessons that stretch far beyond those most commonly learned by 12, 9, and 6 year old children. I have learned so much from them.

I thought I knew a lot about war. I thought I knew what to expect. I was prepared for many things, and unprepared for countless more. My eyes have been opened. I have witnessed the very best, and the very worst, in people. My appreciation, as well as admiration, of infantry soldiers and their families has grown immensely. I am eternally grateful for my husband's safety, words can not express how happy I am to have him back. At the same time, my heart aches for others.

Since his return, there have been several days when I've felt like a piece of taffy that's been left out in the sun. Over the past year, I've been pulled and stretched, rolled in a ball, pulled and stretched some more. And now, I'm melting. Melting back into life. A new life, a new normal.

What a cruel thing is war: to separate and destroy families and friends, and mar the purest joys and happiness God has granted us in this world; to fill our hearts with hatred instead of love for our neighbors, and to devastate the fair face of this beautiful world.

~Robert E. Lee, letter to his wife, 1864

Open Letter to Ms. Aniston

Dear Ms. Aniston,

I understand you live in an alternate universe. I understand that inside that universe, there are only repercussions for things such as: using the N word, using the 3 letter F word to describe homosexuals, and being conservative. But I don't live in that bubble of yours. And outside of Hollywood? Here in the real world where we commoners live? Many of us don't appreciate your flippant use of the word retard. I was struck by how effortlessly it flowed from your mouth as you playfully bantered with your buddy Regis.

You may feel I'm being overly sensitive. Do you feel African-Americans are overly sensitive when they object to the N word? Do you feel homosexuals are overly sensitive when they object to derogatory terms used to describe them? I venture to say you would never consider letting n***** or f** slip from your botoxed lips. I'm guessing those words horrify you (as they should!). How about spic, jap, or chink? Again, horrifying! I'm guessing you would stand in line with all of your do-gooding, Hollywood pals to rip apart anyone who uses such language. But retard? Well, who really cares about the retards, right? Because you didn't mean anything by it, right? You were just joking around during an interview, right? I should lighten up, right? My deceased daughter, Victoria, would have been what you consider "a retard". So, no thank you Ms. Aniston, I will not lighten up. What I hope for is free speech coupled with common sense and compassion.

I value the freedom of speech we are afforded in this country. Do I want all of our words monitored, picked apart, placed under a microscope? Of course I don't! And that's not what I'm doing to your words. No picking apart, and I wasn't monitoring you. Simply had the tv on and heard you very clearly throw out "retard". I'm not sure why you would use such a term. Maybe because you are insensitive, callous, maybe you just haven't ever cared enough to consider that using the term "retard" could cause others pain? Possibly the word flowed freely because you don't think there will be repercussions. No powerful groups like the NAACP, GLAAD, or La Raza are going to come after you. This won't be splashed all over the news. Or, maybe it will be? If it is, you know you can simply issue an apology through your publicist. You'll visit a few special education classrooms. You'll flash that smile of yours and once again, all will be well in your alternate universe. I'm not buying it.

Before too long, you and your Hollywood people will decide you can make a "cause" out of this, you and your celebrity cronies will somehow find a way to make the free speech/compassion combo beneficial to you. Maybe you'll all come together for a prime-time special on tv, you'll take turns answering phones and prancing around on stage. You can share your stories of how you once used hurtful words, but now see the error of your ways. Maybe you could invite Mel Gibson and John Mayer. Maybe even the President...he did have that little slip up when referring to his bowling skills as being on the level of the Special Olympics. Fans will send in money for your cause. Some may even fall at the feet of Hollywood, praising you for saving the world from the ills of hurtful language. But there are thousands of us who have never, will never, fall at the feet of Hollywood. Shocking, isn't it? The fact that not everyone is enamored and awed by celebrities. The fact that there are people out here who already reject derogatory, ignorant speech...and we didn't even need a celebrity to enlighten us.

There are countless numbers here in the real world who already understand words can hurt. We know it isn't all that difficult to think before speaking, to rid our mouths and even minds of derogatory words. Words that pack punches so hard they can knock grown adults to their knees. We are capable of enjoying free speech, and adding compassion to that freedom. When you and those living in your alternate universe decide to preach on this topic, just know we won't be listening. We're way ahead of you on this one. We're way ahead of you on most things.

In the mean time, Ms. Aniston, you might want to check this out:

http://www.r-word.org/

You could probably learn a lot.

Alone...Not Always a Bad Place to Be

Cheryl, thank you for sharing this.
Beautiful.