Day 7

     Before I get to today's post, I just want to say how much I appreciate the kind emails, messages, phone calls and comments. I'm completely surprised by how well this blog has been received. However, I want to make sure that it's understood I'm not looking for this to turn into "40 Days of Tell Me I Look Good"! (I must admit I stole that line from a very close friend who I discussed the blog with today). I thoroughly appreciate the sweet messages, but this is by no means supposed to be a pity party for my lost youth or pre-pregnancy body! I just wanted to put that out there- I hope I'm conveying my thoughts clearly.

     I love a good pair of shoes. There was a time I would only wear heels but now it's mostly slippers, sneakers or Uggs. I'm fine with that, because frankly they are way more comfortable and easier to walk in. Another one of the benefits is that my heels now have a longer shelf life.

These heels have literally carried me through some very difficult times.

     I've worn these shoes on many occasions, but some of the more poignant moments have been wakes and funerals of loved ones. Today these heels sunk into the soft muddy ground at the cemetery and standing became even more difficult than my weak knees were making it. We were surrounded by the graves of children. It was almost too much to take. 

     For a number of reasons, Ella's passing has hit me hard. No parent should ever have to bury their child. I could elaborate, but I don't think I need to- it's a universally excepted belief, or at least it should be. 

     During the service today, the priest spoke about the sanctity of every life and that each fulfills a purpose. I'm sure he was more eloquent than that, but you'll have to forgive my fogginess about the homily. While I cannot recall the specifics, I was moved by his words. I was also especially moved by the music.

     My husband tells me that one of my best qualities is my ability to empathize with others. I don't just sympathize and acknowledge an emotional hardship, I put myself in that person's shoes and imagine that experience as to help them through the difficult time. I think this goes to the core of who I am.

     However, empathizing also means that you may understand a person's emotions because you have gone through a similar experience. I will not pretend that I have suffered a loss like this, and I would never equate my experience with the passing of Ella. However, when staring at the tiny casket, when surrounded by the headstones marking the graves of innocent children, I became overwhelmed with grief for my friends, their families, the families of these unknown babies and for myself. 

     My two boys are not my only children. I have been pregnant numerous times. From that first positive pregnancy test, I became the mother I knew I was meant to be and nothing would stand in the way of me protecting that life. Except, it isn't always up to us, is it? I have seen a tiny beating heart on the screen of an ultrasound only to have it stop a few weeks later. I have received the phone call that informed me a pregnancy was no longer viable. I have walked into a hospital pregnant and left without a baby in my arms. I have become so connected to pregnancy and child loss that I think I've crossed over from empathy into something much deeper. 

     I think empathy is a beautiful thing. It connects us to people and the world around us. It reinforces a sense of community and love. It breaks my heart to have had to empathize with the family of Ella Grace. 

Please visit this site to learn more about the campaign my dear friends Regina and Jason have started to honor their daughter.