Sunday, June 7, 2009
Who Knows How I Got This Way
(sorry about the lack of a more eloquent or clever title...)
We did not have the typical introduction to parenting. After four months of caring for a very fussy baby and 6 weeks of caring for a constantly vomiting baby we heard the news that no parent wants to hear—that our precious child had a terminal genetic illness.
(Just so you don't feel too bad for us, in that moment we were actually relieved to hear that news; she had been so sick that we were afraid that the doctors were going to tell us that she was just going to die. Finding out that there was an average life expectancy of 19 years at that point felt almost like a gift to us. Perspective is a funny thing, isn't it?)
Because she was our first child I don't have anything to compare to. I don't know who we would have been as parents if our first child had been uneventfully healthy and our last child had been the sick one.
One time one of my friends made a comment about me that was unexpected. It's been far too long for me to remember more than the general feeling of the comment — but she said that she thought I was unusually good at finding joy in life and particularly in doing things that brought us joy.
I have wondered since that day...How much of who I am and how I have lived my life has been shaped by the fact that we have been (most years) reminded on a daily basis that life is fleeting and that there are no guarantees? Would I have missed out on precious moments enjoyed with my children and with my husband if I had been able to live complacently, sure that every opportunity would be infinitely available?
I would never have chosen this particular trial. (Would we choose any trial?) But I am a firm believer that we can find a gift in every situation, and I know that there are more than a few gifts in my life because of Cindy Lynn's illness. (Not the least of which is the really amazing person that she has become because of the things that she has had to deal with.)
I have this sign over my stove. When all is said and done, this is what I want. To have lived however much life we have in such a way that we (all of us) have plenty of wonderful memories of our time together.
We did not have the typical introduction to parenting. After four months of caring for a very fussy baby and 6 weeks of caring for a constantly vomiting baby we heard the news that no parent wants to hear—that our precious child had a terminal genetic illness.
(Just so you don't feel too bad for us, in that moment we were actually relieved to hear that news; she had been so sick that we were afraid that the doctors were going to tell us that she was just going to die. Finding out that there was an average life expectancy of 19 years at that point felt almost like a gift to us. Perspective is a funny thing, isn't it?)
Because she was our first child I don't have anything to compare to. I don't know who we would have been as parents if our first child had been uneventfully healthy and our last child had been the sick one.
One time one of my friends made a comment about me that was unexpected. It's been far too long for me to remember more than the general feeling of the comment — but she said that she thought I was unusually good at finding joy in life and particularly in doing things that brought us joy.
I have wondered since that day...How much of who I am and how I have lived my life has been shaped by the fact that we have been (most years) reminded on a daily basis that life is fleeting and that there are no guarantees? Would I have missed out on precious moments enjoyed with my children and with my husband if I had been able to live complacently, sure that every opportunity would be infinitely available?
I would never have chosen this particular trial. (Would we choose any trial?) But I am a firm believer that we can find a gift in every situation, and I know that there are more than a few gifts in my life because of Cindy Lynn's illness. (Not the least of which is the really amazing person that she has become because of the things that she has had to deal with.)
I have this sign over my stove. When all is said and done, this is what I want. To have lived however much life we have in such a way that we (all of us) have plenty of wonderful memories of our time together.
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That is a sweet looking wheelchair. How did it do in the sand? Was it hard to push or did it glide over pretty easily?
ReplyDeleteSean - the wheels were inflatable rubber and very big, and so it was super easy in the sand. It was awesome. Our jaws all dropped when we saw it for the first time... I had no idea there were ATWs (all-terrain-wheelchairs)!
ReplyDeleteThere's all types. Ones for hiking, beaches, sports, etc. I've even seen people go repelling and rock climbing in special chairs.
ReplyDeleteOnce again- you make having a big family look like so much fun. That picture in front of the Nauvoo temple is beautiful. We went to the open house and have a similar picture, but with just me, Eric and little Eric as a baby.
ReplyDeletebtw - I can't help but notice you have Nauvoo temple pictures you could donate to the temple picture blog I help manage. You can e-mail me on FB and I'll add you to the list of contributors.
ReplyDeletehttp://picsofldstemples.blogspot.com/