Friday, May 14, 2010

Silent Sobs

I have two friends that are both experiencing pain. Pain I wish I could erase. One gave me her son, the other is losing her husband. I love both friends deeply and wish there was more I could do. Although I've seen them both weep with heartache, I know there are so many silent sobs that I never hear.

What is it about us that just wants to "fix" everything? I wish I could snap my fingers and erase the feelings of hurt, rejection, and pain. I wish I could offer up an ever healing band-aid that left no scars behind. I hate that I can't.

When it comes to Rebekah, it's difficult not to feel guilty. As much as I try to remind myself that we are not the source of her pain, it's hard to separate my emotions. Our greatest treasure is her largest loss. How can I not feel responsible? The day after Mother's Day was difficult for her. Many of you read her words.

I will never understand the loss of a child. Scratch that. I pray to God that I never understand the loss of a child. I cannot imagine living through such difficulty. The only experience I have to compare is the loss of not having a child. But, it's different. It comes with it's own set of gut-wrenching-I-don't-know-if-I-can-live pain, but it doesn't parallel life. Rebekah carried her son for many many months. Loved him, fed him, grew him. Then she held him for many weeks, while we made Colorado a temporary home. Then she kissed him goodbye and gave him a new family in us.

What about that process isn't heartaching? Just thinking about it makes me shiver.

I'll admit. It's easy to forget the pain and get wrapped up in the joy of Ty's life. He is the love of God. But then I talk to my sweet friend, hear her words, and reality comes crashing down. Rebekah's heart will never be whole. There will always be a part that is distant. The part that lives with us.

When I think about the weight of those words, I ache. I know that she has good days and bad. I know that she doesn't live in a constant state of regret and loss. I know that time will soften the throb. That the hand of God can bring life to dead places.

But, I also know a mother's love never lessens. It never whimpers out or forgets to shine. It is constant and radiant. It never goes away.

My heart is so thankful for the openness in our adoption. These reminders of reality are good. They stir me to be a better mother. To love beyond myself. To hear the voice of God.

I am grateful that Tyrus will always know the love of two mothers. And although I can't erase the pain of one, he will always know it exists.
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