The Minute That Changed Me

Today I have done all the normal things I usually do. I had the morning coffee, I dressed and fed the kids, I picked up carpool and dropped the older kids off at school with a wave, a smile and an "I love you." Then I zoomed over to the preschool to drop Zach off. As I pulled into the parking lot I saw that part of the lot was marked off for a funeral. How sad, right? Funerals always make me sad and cry, even if I don't know the person from Adam's cat. Someone died and that leaves an empty space in this world, and it's always sad for someone.

So I get the kidlets out and start toward the door when another mom shuffles past and murmurs "prepare yourself." I thought she meant prepare yourself for the usual coffin and flowers and such. It must be too early to actually be having the funeral, what with all the preschoolers coming in. They certainly wouldn't be having a funeral until after the kids classes started.

I walk in the doors with the kids and am greeted by two big poster boards filled with pictures of a baby girl. Kaylee, I think was her name. Oh my heavens, someone lost their baby. How awful! My heart sank a little more than usual and I tightened the squeeze on Lilly in my arm.

And then I looked over to my right where something else caught my peripheral sight. It was a little casket...with a little baby girl in it...with a little pink hat on. Goosebumps ran all over my body and my blood ran colder.

She was so pretty and chubby lying there. I didn't look for long but it was long enough to see that. You really couldn't see much difference between her and the baby doll someone had placed in a sitting position just to the end of the casket.

I quickly ushered Zach by the hood of his jacket down the hallway and away from it all, but I felt so numb all over. My mind was moving and telling me to do all the things that we had to do, but my body felt sluggish. Turn left, go to the bathroom to wash hands, hang up the coat, get him to the door. All the while I knew my life had been changed. I just saw a dead baby...and even as I stand here now I don't know how to process it.

I see my perfectly healthy, chubby baby here with Pop Tart goo all over her face and hands, chattering away in nonsense...and know there is another Mom just minutes away from me preparing to put her beloved child into the ground. As far as I am concerned, Lilly can scream her head off and wake me up every twenty minutes for the next year, and I won't be happy about, but I'll be grateful. I'll be grateful for her life and for God putting her in my arms to care for and love. And when I hear someone complaining about how awful their kids are and I want to chime in to say, "yea, but at least they are healthy and alive" or "their lucky they're cute or we'd kill 'em"... I'll remember this minute of my life when I saw a baby who died at nine months old. A baby who did not have a chance to flush a wash cloth down the toilet, or smear jelly on the walls or sing a Christmas song in a holiday program at school or any of the beautiful and chaotic things that kids do.

I realize that this post is polar opposite of the last post where I likened by cherubic faced baby to a werewolf. I absolutely do not recant my feelings from that post. Life with a teething toddler and two older children is sometimes just that awful. But I do think that today I have been changed a little in the parent department. Made more grateful for life, especially the life of Scott and my babies.