Our daughter will be five years old the first week of January. She is currently full of spunk and sass and all things that resemble a toddler-turned-teenager. She fights bedtime every single night, doesn’t willingly eat anything besides white rice and Pringle’s, and knows every single way to push my buttons in just the right way.
This morning, during one of our arguments about the importance of getting out of the house on-time, I raised my voice and told her that I was not very happy with how she was behaving and that she needed to put her shoes on. She was upset and crying uncontrollably. Finally, after ten minutes of arguing over every single barrier preventing us from getting out the door, my husband got her in the car while I gathered my things to leave. Moments later, my husband comes back inside and tells me that she was outside screaming because she wanted a hug goodbye from Mom.
Guilt hit me. In the midst of the morning madness, I rushed her right out of the door without even giving her some lovin’s. I went outside, wrapped my arms around her and told her that Mommy loved her even when she has big feelings and behaves in ways she shouldn’t. I did not want her to leave feeling like she had upset me enough to make her question my love for her. Our children are our greatest gifts, even when they test your limits and leave you feeling defeated.
This week has been an extremely difficult week for my hometown community. One of my good friends from high school experienced the loss of her two-month-old child on Tuesday. Her son went to bed Monday night and never woke up.
Although we admittedly aren’t as close as we were ten years ago, the pain and confusion and sorrow hit me just the same. Sometimes the world is so unfair and does not offer an explanation to the pain we are often bestowed.
I have hugged, kissed, and held both of my children with an aching in my heart all week long. The loss of a child is so unimaginably heartbreaking, and I don’t really have the words to offer any sense of comfort to the family that is undoubtedly navigating the worst days of their entire lives. Tonight is the visitation, so I went to the store on my lunch break today to look for a sympathy card. It feels silly to be buying a card when all I really want to do is wave a magic wand and make it all go away for this wonderfully loving and giving family. I cannot imagine what they are going through, yet here I am wondering how on earth I am going to keep it together when I offer my sympathies and respects to them later this evening. My heart, and many within my community, are completely shattered for the loss of a life so precious.
As unfortunate as these times may be, they do offer an important reminder. Life is not always promised, and it can be gone in the blink of an eye. Take the pictures. Soak in the moments. Hug your children. Love ferociously. Be compassionate. Appreciate today. Say, “I love you.” Be empathetic. Hug and kiss often.
From the heart of a mother grieving for another, please keep this family in your thoughts and prayers as they navigate this difficult journey forward.
Rest in peace, sweet baby Knox. You may not have been on this earth for long, but your memory stays alive in the hearts of many.
Between the Lens 