I've been having that "fallen off the face of the earth" feeling lately, though I couldn't tell you why. Blog? What blog? Oh yes, the one about the dead baby. How uplifting, how perfectly springlike and warm and sunshine and flowers. Um, yeah. I've been thinking a lot about all of the friends from home dying, 3 women, 3 weeks in a row, all from cancer. One of them I didn't even know, but I grew up playing with her husband. She was 37, and now there are three little boys without a mom. And I feel for them so much, those boys, and my friend I haven't seen since I was 18 or 19 or 20, who used to play tag in my parent's backyard, who is a widower now, and has to grieve for his wife while trying to be okay enough to raise his sons on his own. And my heart aches for him, and for his wife who never intended to leave them, but who had no choice in the matter.
There's another young mother I've been thinking of, in Australia, whose blog I came upon through this one. Jen is a 39-year-old mother of two who is dying. She is fighting with all her might but preparing as well for the end. She has cancer of the bowel and has been told she has anywhere from 7 months to 3 years. If you want to be inspired, this woman will do it. She is courageous and beautiful and accepting of what she's been given, though not yet ready to give up. Some of her internet friends are holding an auction to raise money to help Jen pay for some of the medical care she needs that insurance will not cover and to set up a trust fund for her son. Jen's blog can be found here; the link to the auction on ebay, which will run until May 1st, can be found here. Visit one, or both, and send Jen good thoughts for whatever time she has left in this journey.
Every year, 26,000 babies are stillborn in America. In 2003, one of them was my son.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Spring has Sprung
I've had a wee bit of a blogging break - recovering from my surgery, my daughter's spring break, time away at a waterpark, the colds we have caught. My daughter is home from school today with a bad cold and I woke up with a headache. I can't say I feel like taking care of children today, but that's what moms do, so I will.
Spring has arrived here, although it was 31 degrees this morning. My daffodils are blooming and the tulips have popped up. I am more than ready for spring and for good things to happen. My legs are nearly healed up; all those pretty rainbow bruise colors are nearly gone, though I am still sore, but they look much better already.
There has been lots of bad news from my hometown in the last few weeks. The sister of a friend of mine died of breast cancer two weeks ago, at the age of 51; another friend of the family died of breast cancer last week at the age of 53. Both women fought long and hard, and both were still so young. The wife of another childhood friend is dying from a fast-growing brain tumor, leaving behind three sons, ages 11, 9, and 6. She's 37. Sometimes life is just so incomprehensible, and you carry on doing the laundry, changing diapers, making meals, while around you things keep falling apart. What else can you do, but carry on, hug your babies, hug your spouse, bring in some daffodils to put in a vase, remember to live now, right where you are.
Spring has arrived here, although it was 31 degrees this morning. My daffodils are blooming and the tulips have popped up. I am more than ready for spring and for good things to happen. My legs are nearly healed up; all those pretty rainbow bruise colors are nearly gone, though I am still sore, but they look much better already.
There has been lots of bad news from my hometown in the last few weeks. The sister of a friend of mine died of breast cancer two weeks ago, at the age of 51; another friend of the family died of breast cancer last week at the age of 53. Both women fought long and hard, and both were still so young. The wife of another childhood friend is dying from a fast-growing brain tumor, leaving behind three sons, ages 11, 9, and 6. She's 37. Sometimes life is just so incomprehensible, and you carry on doing the laundry, changing diapers, making meals, while around you things keep falling apart. What else can you do, but carry on, hug your babies, hug your spouse, bring in some daffodils to put in a vase, remember to live now, right where you are.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)