Perspective
Not that I knew her at all, but reading J.'s unfolding story over the past couple of days and D.'s has left me deeply contemplative these past couple of days. I have long believed that women who are called to the holiest work of birthing such as J. and D. are somehow gifted--witnessing from the sidelines these past few days as both of their dramas unfold confirms this belief. These women, so intimately involved with the most primal of women's work, are showing me how to better live my life, how to love, and how to mourn. I am humbled at being allowed to experience such a moving human story as it happens.
Reading of Abby's death brings up so many emotions in me, having "lost" a daughter of my own to adoption. I have long discounted the grief I experienced and continue to experience because at least she is still alive and breathing and living, but it is a real as J.'s grief. Today was my due date with her, 14 years ago--she wasn't born until the 18th though. How I wish that I would have had women like J. and D. by my side during my labor--women who live each day with the unceasing rhythm of life, who know how to celebrate and know how to mourn as only mothers can. I wish I had their courage, their grace, their dignity in the face of such humbling circumstances. I have made it a point to seek out and surround myself with women like them in the hopes that somehow, someway, some of that courage to face life and the grace to accept it can rub off on me.