Rememering Heather

I was so very happy to have a healthy little girl when Heather arrived. My first child was born with cerebral palsy and it seemed nothing was more important than for this second child to be strong and ‘normal.’ She really was. Four weeks later, on September 9th, she was gone; Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS). When Heather died, suddenly, CP didn’t seem like such a difficult thing. My perspective changed dramatically; immediately. In the 30 years since that experience, I’ve retold it countless times; sometimes with more detail, sometimes not. I’ve heard tender words of sympathy in countless more combinations. The waves of pain and sorrow have lost the power they once had, when I remember her. It was nearly unbearable for many years, but I can finally share my experience without breaking into uncontrollable tears. Time gives that increased self-control to us because it takes something else from us, in a way. What remains, once the sting subsides, is the strength from growth. Part of what remains in me, is that a crying baby doesn’t worry me anymore. Crying babies haven’t bothered me since the night my baby died in her crib. After Heather, I was truly happy to get up at 2:00AM with any fussy baby, without complaint. After all, a crying baby in the night is a live baby… Looking back, it’s hard to believe so many years have passed since August 12, 1990. In 2050, those of us still around might look back and hardly believe 30 years have passed since this day, and this COVID-19 pandemic will be a only memory from a lifetime ago. One day, we’ll remember the fear, the sorrow and death without the sting. One day, we might look back and see how even the rioting and the violence of 2020 became part of the tapestry of the society we’ve woven and continue to weave, from day to day. Even the darkest days are serving a purpose; we are changing because of what’s happening now. I’m reminded of a verse concerning the tapestry of our lives. Speaking of perspective and the weaver of tapestry: “Oft times He weaveth sorrow, and I, in foolish pride, forget He sees the upper, and I the underside. Not 'til the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly, shall He unroll the canvas and explain the reason why. The dark threads are as needful in the Weaver's skillful hand, as the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.” (author unknown) See the dark threads as part of something more than darkness. Allow your perspective to change. The sting of 2020 will subside. Strength and wisdom will remain. Be well.