The Strength of Parents

I went to a funeral service on Wednesday for a little girl who lived to the ripe age of 75 days. She left two amazingly loving parents, and two older sisters, all of whom grieve for her. I cannot imagine the unspeakable grief they must feel. At the service, her father carried her casket from the chapel to the gravesite, which was a short walk away, and then had a hard time letting it go when the time came. It was so incredibly moving and heartbreaking. Her sisters cried and the whole family just held on to each other.

It is not the first funeral for a baby that I have been to over the last few years. I have been to several. Too many, to tell you the truth. It's a sad reality for those of us who spend any amount of time with families of children born with heart defects. I don't know how the doctors and nurses who care for these children do it day in and day out. I have been told that I get too emotionally attached to these families and children, but how do I not get attached to them? We are on this road together, my comrades and me. We are warriors, doing battle against an enemy that would kill our children. If you can't get attached and learn to trust each other, then you feel like you're fighting alone. And that will never do.

Let me tell you what I have observed, though. There is this quiet strength in the parents who have lost children. I have seen them comfort the mourning, laugh when they wanted to cry, and celebrate the time they were blessed to have with their children. It is the ultimate demonstration of grace under pressure. Everyone is looking at them, expecting them to fall apart at any second, but they are the ones holding everything together. Are there tears? Oh, yes! But, there is also that strength. They know that their baby is through with suffering and pain, and there is the hope that they will be together again, when we get to our permanent home. They know that their children passed through this world, on their way to a better one, and made our lives better on their stop-over. These parents understand that there are worse things than death, and Heaven looks even sweeter than it ever did before. Even the parents who do fall apart show a strength that would impress the greatest of superheroes. Our children are supposed to outlive us, not the other way around. Any parent who can endure that kind of pain, and still keep going, is tougher than steel.

I know that I am not there in the private moments, when they are missing their children so much they can hardly breathe; when their arms ache with the emptiness; when they hear a baby cry, and their heart skips a beat, for just a moment. I am only there for the public moments, when they are relatively composed and hold it all together for those of us who need for them to put on a brave face. I have not been there at the end of the day, when they lay down in a quiet house, and their minds wander to what might have been, but will never be. I am certain that their grief must be so deep, they wonder if the sun will ever shine again.

The amazing thing about these incredible people is that the sun DOES shine again. They still miss their child immensely, but they are able to keep moving forward. They hurt and there is still a sad emptiness in their lives, but still they keep going. They go on to comfort those who will mourn their own children, to encourage families to never take a single day for granted, and to be brave enough to parent again. This group of parents has humbled me in ways you can never imagine. They have taught me to trust God, no matter what. They have taught me about the bittersweetness of parenthood, and how to look at each day with my children as a marvelous gift.

So, today I think about all the babies who lost their earthly battle, but won in Heavenly places. I think about Taylor, who went to Heaven, but gave Jonathan her beautiful heart; Baby M, whose sisters and parents mourn for her today; Sweet D, who loved my jelly beans, but who loved his Mom even more; Precious E, whose big sister loved her unreasonably; Baby Girl I, who was waiting for a new heart that didn't come in time; Beautiful J, who fought so hard, but just got too tired to fight any more; Little J, who was Daddy's little pride and joy, and whose short life impacted so many; Adorable K, who was Mama's girl; Big Boy B, who tried so hard, but just was too sick; and I think about Wonderful I, who is laughing and dancing in Heaven with his big brother, who went before him.

Love your children. If you can't put your arms around them because they are away from you, but still on this earth, call them and tell them you love them. They need to hear that from you. If your child left this earth before you were ready, know that I am thinking of you today----as I often do. Hold your children close in your heart, and know that, if you love God, and believe in His Son, Jesus, there is a time that you and your precious one will be reunited. And know that you have left an indelible impression on me. I will never forget....