Moments

Gideon's 4th birthday is next week.  Has it really been almost 4 years since this incredible journey began?  Has it been nearly four years since I touched his tender little face, delighted to see his eyes as they struggled to open and make brief contact?  

Alydia age 3

Someone observed to me today "Wow, all your children are so different."  It's so true.  In some ways, it makes parenthood more fun, like a rollercoaster in a dark building (think Space Mountain) or a waterslide with a dark tunnel, where you aren't sure what twists and turns are up ahead.  But in other ways, it makes parenthood much harder, because it's hard to predict, prepare, and plan for all the curves my children throw me.  Having unpredictable children, it makes me wonder even more about the little boy who would be 4. When would he have walked?  What would his first word have been?  Would he be good at snuggling or be too wiggly?  Would he look like any of his older siblings?  Would he tend towards trouble, confidence, mischief, silliness?  I hate not knowing these things about my son, but I do still have faith in eternal families, and in the resurrection; I look forward

to the day when we'll be reunited and I will get to know him.

Ethan age 6

Hyrum age 4

James age 4

In the mean time, I have gained a greater understanding and appreciation for the moments I get to have with people--not just my own children, but all people.  I didn't even begin to understand how precious an hour could be, until I knew we had precious few hours with our own son.  In hindsight, we can think of things we could have and should have done to make those days and hours count for more, but they are days and hours we can't really get back.  We go on, with the knowledge that we were not fully aware of how little time we had, and that we did try to make his time special when he was here, as well as caring for our other children and making sure they were also OK.  So we missed out on some opportunities, and we're painfully aware of the moments we wish we would have used differently.

I'm not necessarily saying we have regrets, because we were trying to follow doctors' and nurses' advice, with hope that his body would normalize and grow and develop, and trying not to push my own body too hard after just having a baby--we were trying to use our time as though he was going to spend many months in the NICU, not realizing we'd have only a week.  And we know we can't beat ourselves up about that time.  We are trying to remember what we learned from the time we wish we'd have used differently and seize more opportunities in the HERE and NOW with the people we have in our lives.  Spending time learning about people and understanding people and especially loving people is not wasted time.  It doesn't get projects done--most often this type of investment is completely invisible, which is very frustrating in the world we live in--a world of projects and achievable, accountable goals, and comparisons, but it is still incredibly valuable time, probably often even more valuable than all the project oriented stuff or entertainment type stuff we spend so much time on.

I know I still don't fully understand this.  I am still learning to make time count for more, I'm still trying to learn that moments reading to my children, moments of tenderness with my husband, moments of learning about another person's needs and filling them aren't time wasted.  I still have my mental "checklist" of things I'd like to get done, and most of the time, I neglect to include "love" in that daily checklist.  And when I do spend time loving and connecting with people at the cost of a different project, I'm learning not to beat myself up about what didn't get done.

I'm still learning to appreciate the madness of motherhood, but I feel that because of Gideon's death, I can more fully appreciate it.  Even if Gideon was a toilet paper unroller, a food mess maker, a kid who giggles at the wrong times, one who struggled to aim at (or anywhere near) the toilet, I know I would take ANY moments with him, even with the messes and frustrations. Thus I am able to enjoy those sometimes less delightful moments with my own family, when normally they'd feel like a huge chore.  Don't get me wrong, cleaning up messes is not fun, and I still get after my children for making messes that they need to learn how to not make.  And I still make them clean up when they miss the toilet.  But I am painfully aware that it's worth it, and I'd rather have the messes to clean up than not have the children in my home.

I have such a long way to go still.  My understanding of how special each person is, and how special each moment can be has definitely deepened.  The sense of loss has made me more sensitive to it, and though I hate that sensitivity because it hurts more, I'm also grateful for it because it is shaping me into a better person.