I am the lucky one
Today I gave blood at the Red Cross. This is something that I do a couple of times
a year—something I can do for others in need.
I went in just wanting to get my appointment over, a dark cloud over my
head, and generally not in a good mood.
I made it through the appointment by basically talking as
little as possible, inwardly very sad. I
was in the canteen sipping on my water and eating my trail mix after my blood
donation, trying desperately to avoid getting into conversation with the Bubbly
Volunteer. Another donator sat down
across from me, and the Bubbly Volunteer sat in between us. The donator across from us was very happy to
join in the conversation with the Bubbly Volunteer, who volunteered the
information that she was very excited about becoming a grandmother. I did the obligatory smile while the woman
across from the Bubbly Volunteer and me talked.
She knew she was having a grandson, and her daughter was 21 weeks
along. She was thrilled. Her son and daughter had been trying for
eleven years to have a child. She then
said something that really caught my attention.
She said her daughter-in-law had never made it this far in a pregnancy
before, but some sort of surgical procedure had made it possible. I joined the conversation at that point and
asked point blank if her daughter-in-law had lost a previous baby. She said yes, three, and all at 16
weeks. I don’t remember what sex they
were, but she did say that the second miscarriage was twins. She went on to say that anytime after 26
weeks her daughter-in-law could have the baby and he would survive. Her grandson was 9 inches long and weighed
ten pounds, and she was just beaming. I
wished the Bubbly Volunteer and her family well and left.
I contemplated what this woman said on the way home and
compared it with my grandmother experience of Nora’s stillbirth. The Bubbly Volunteer never got to gaze upon
the beauty of her grandchildren, never got the chance to cuddle them in the
crook of her arm, and never got to give them a kiss. Her only pictures of her grandchildren were
ultrasounds of the babies. I realized
that I was the lucky one in this instance.
I at least was able to hold, cuddle and touch Nora. She was real.
I was able to gaze upon her lovely eyelashes, cute chubby cheeks, little
upturned nose, and her gorgeous full lips.
I was able to touch her cheeks and give her a kiss. I am able to remember how she felt so snuggly
in my arms. Bubbly Volunteer never had
that. In this instance, I am the lucky
one.
Yes, in this we are so lucky... We have those good memories to treasure in between all the pain and grief, and I feel blessed I have them...
ReplyDeleteSo beautiful this woman shared this story with you... I have never met a stranger that shared such a personal story with me... That's a blessing in itself!
Blessed. No matter how long they are with us, our children bless us. We only got to have 36 hours with our son, but those 36 hours changed our hearts forever. <3
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