Amy came into the world at 11:53 pm on August 12, 1985. The minute I held her in my arms for the first time, her beautiful eyes were wide open looking right back at me. She didn’t cry; just looked around as though she was re-acclimating herself. Many have told me Amy was a very old soul.
I had gone into labor at the doctor’s office and remember how I tried to patiently wait for the receptionist to call me back but the pains were so steady and frequent that instead I decided to let her know I was in labor. Wow — did things move quickly after that …
My husband was at a nearby Pizza Hut with our two older children and again I had to patiently wait for them to return to pick me up. Imagine his surprise when I told him we had to drop the kids off at his mother’s and head to the hospital. Labor was quick and uneventful and in only a few hours I was cuddling my new 8 lb., 7 oz. beautiful bundle of joy.
Amy and I were only in the hospital for two nights. The night before we came home, I remember hearing a woman screaming down the hall. When the nurse brought Amy to me for a feeding, I asked about the woman and was told that she was laboring to give birth to a stillborn baby. While holding Amy close to my heart, I cried and prayed for that woman and thanked God for my baby. Even now, I still think of that mother.
I will never understand the painful challenges and experiences some of us are forced to endure. Life lessons? No. That’s just a cop out way to shine a silver lining on tragedy. I remember in the early weeks after Amy’s sudden death actually thinking while I was crying, “why me?” and then continuing the thought with an answer of “why not me?” Trust me I didn’t stick with that school of thought for long. There are times I wonder what I ever did to the universe to justify losing my child? There is no justification for why some of us deal with the tragic losses of out of order deaths. There is no life lesson to be learned in the midst of tragedy. Living without a loved one hurts like hell and forever changes our lives. That’s the reality, not the lesson and tomorrow will be heartbreaking for me as I am not far enough along that the memories won’t hurt. What mother wants her child to be an angel in heaven instead of here?!?
What I HAVE learned is that the soul survives the body and their beautiful energy continues. That is not a lesson as I could easily escape this lifetime without this enlightment if it meant I could keep my Amy here.
I recently found this poem which I posted before … If only I could truly allow these words to sink into my broken heart because there is a part of me which believes. I HAVE to believe….
Death is Nothing at All
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we are still.
Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
With the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.
All is well.
— Henry Scott Holland
Happy Birthday Amy! I miss you so much … time will never ever change that! I must believe that I will see you again, my sweet child. Love never dies. I love you, Amy.