Putting Things Into Perspective

So, it's really late and I really should be in bed, but of course I'm not. I'm doing really important things, like browsing people's blogs and MySpace profiles. Usually my slacking has no worth, but for once I think it has brought me to an important realization.

While floating through my MySpace friends, I remembered that I had read a couple of months ago that one of my high school peers' wife would be expecting a baby in April. Recently having had a baby myself, I'm a little obsessed with hearing about other people's pregnancies and babies. I don't know why; it's sort of like the moment I became pregnant I joined some cult in which I've been brainwashed to eat, sleep and breathe babies. Anyway, I went to his page and, of course, there was nothing new on it, so I clicked over to his wife's page. Much to my nosey delight, she had a link to their pregnancy blog. I scrolled through it, checking out the belly pictures and nursery pictures. Then I read the latest post. Their baby had been born! How exciting! I read further and got the statistics. Mind you, other than a couple of brief messages with the father, I haven't spoken or seen him since I graduated from high school eleven years ago. But I was excited for him and his wife, nevertheless. The parenthood cult! It even gets you excited about perfect strangers' babies.

And then I read the next sentence. The baby - the one inside all her belly pics I'd just scrolled through, the one whose adorable nursery was completed, the one who had been named, the one who was obviously very highly anticipated by his parents - had died only an hour after birth.

I got an instant stomachache and I'm still tearing up about it.

As a member of the parenthood cult, I'm finally able to understand my mother's huge fear that I'd been hearing about my whole life - the fear of her children dying. This very fear became implanted in me, as it does in all loving parents, the moment we learned I was pregnant. And this fear? I think it grows stronger every single day. As a new parent, I receive such information differently than I did pre-baby. Before? Yes, I would find such news very sad. But now? I can put myself in their shoes. And you can't help but do so. As hard as I tried not to, my mind started racing back to when I was hugely pregnant and how excited I was, and then to the delivery room where I was soooooo damn scared and soooooo damn thrilled when the baby came...and then I started imagining all of the horrendous things that could have happened and the horrendous feelings I'd have felt had those horrendous things happened. And my heart aches so badly for them.

The scary thing is, sure, Asher survived. He's survived three whole months. But you know what? As obvious as this may be, I'll say it anyway: you never know what tomorrow holds, and while you pray and hope it'll be another good, healthy day, tragedy is always going to be lurking behind the shadows. The "what ifs" are always going to be painfully hovering in your mind, especially awful to think about because you know they could happen. This parenthood cult, as great as it is, totally messes you up. Permanently.

So, having said all that, I'm brought to the realization I first mentioned. I've been whining and bitching a lot - A LOT, A LOT - lately about my life. Our financial situation is awful - Stephen is barely working, we will probably lose our house. I'm unhappy being back at work and away from Asher, but I can't quit because of the finances and the insurance. But you know what? (And I know many of you have said this to me already, but you know me - I'm slow to learn.) Our problems are so small in the whole scheme of things. Money and houses are just material things. They come and go (and hopefully will come back). But family, loved ones, your children? They are precious commodities. They are what matters. I feel so spoiled to focus so heavily on such problems that really are just inconveniences. Why is it so hard for me to remember the good things we have and to realize we are really, really blessed in so many ways?

What makes me so sad, though, is that it took reading about someone losing the most important thing in their life to bring about this realization. My heart really goes out to them; I'm trying really hard to quit imagining what they must be going through.

I'm going to go to bed now and, before I do, give Asher a big kiss on the head. I don't even care if it wakes him up.