Todd and I went out last night. We had overnight babysitting, compliments of my SIL and BIL. So we dropped off the kids, got cleaned up, went our for a nice dinner and ended up at a late night comedy club. Dinner was lovely, the comedy had highs and lows, and we enjoyed our child-free evening.
But we got home about 1am. I could not sleep in. So here I am, tired as hell.
Went to a fun baby shower today. My friend (and you know who you are!) looks fantastic. She goes in for her c-section next Thursday and I have to be honest… I’m DYING for someone to call and tell me if it’s a boy or a girl.
My curiosity and need to know are in dreadful overdrive. AUGH!
I had fun buying little teeny baby things though. As I was driving over to the shower, it hit me that this may be one of the last baby showers I attend. My sister may have children, but if she does, she lives a long way away. I’m trying to picture her at a baby shower and mostly not really succeeding.
All my other friends either have grown children, older children still at home, or aren’t having kids. I’m at that age now where other things are happening.
And I suppose that leads me to this week. It has been a week of sadness. Two friends had losses – one that was timely and a blessing, one that was a horrible tragedy. Another friend has just found out that she will lose her father within a very short time (less than 3 months, at best). My heart breaks for them all. I know this is the stage of life I’m entering – the one where it is less about new lives entering and more about lives leaving. I keep telling myself to accept it, to be ready. But I’m not.
I’m still too close to the baby stage, I suppose. There is something so joyous about a new baby joining a family. I doubt I’ll ever stop being amazed about it.
I have never been very good at dealing with death and grief. I never know how to let someone know that I share in their pain, even from my distant perspective. I want to offer some sort of solace or words that let them know that I honor their grief, but it never feels like it’s enough or appropriate or … well, just what is needed.
In a strange way, though, I don’t fear my own mortality. My expectation or hope for death is that it will bring peace. I can’t know for sure what it is, so that is what I think about. I hope I’ll live long enough to be with my children through their young years and I hope to some day see my grandchildren, but all other hopes are just the noise of living (career, education, experience). I’d like to one day be with my entire family around me and know that it was a good life. That’s enough.
Instead, I fear the loss of those around me – the people that I care for and want to protect. I just don’t understand how we’re supposed to deal with it. I worked for a woman whose son died when he was four. I’ve tried to wrap my head around that one… time couldn’t heal that wound. It would remain raw and painful, forever.
I think about my friend who is facing the loss of her father. I think about the man I know who just lost his mother at the beginning of the month… the woman who lost her daughter last November. How do we make the most of the minutes we have with the people we love?
And how do we enjoy and celebrate the moments we shared together, even as we mourn the emptiness their loss leaves in our lives?
For today, I enjoyed the company of the women who gathered to share in the joy of the new baby. We laughed. We told stories from our own experiences. I even leaned in to say hello to this little person who will have a wonderful family waiting for him/her (augh).
Little person? It is a strange, wonderful, interesting, and sometimes scary world you are coming to. I wish you many blessings.