It took my son a few (30) extra minutes to fall asleep tonight. I tried to leave the room once. He melted into tears. I ran downstairs and grabbed a cookie (makes perfect sense, no?) and my laptop. I was prepared to let him have a good cry. All things must come to an end, and I am about done with spending my evenings helping him go to sleep.
But something that has been haunting me all day, started haunting me again. A blogger in the blogosphere, someone I don’t know, have never met, never read, never even heard of before today has been in my thoughts all day.
Her child died last night. Her 17 month-old girl.
The thoughts and feelings that I have had today for a total stranger who will never know me, never know these thoughts existed, have had quite an impact on me.
Not too many weeks ago, I was dry-heaving into the toilet at the idea that my son may have a heart condition. He would live. He would need to be careful. Our lives would change.
Losing a child? I can’t begin to comprehend.
I have a friend whose infant died. A newborn. A very premature newborn. Knowing her through that time has changed who I am. It has changed a lot about me. And that was someone else’s child. What do you possibly do when it is your own child? How. Do. You. Go. On?
I went back into his room. I rubbed his head. I waited with him until he fell asleep. I did for my son what that mother wants more than anything to do for her daughter tonight. I held him tight in my arms.