As Thanksgiving approaches, I have given a lot of thought to the idea of gratitude, how much it means to me, and how much it has helped, and continues to help me.
The experience of awe has been shown to be good for us. Every time I experience the birth of a child, I am overwhelmed with awe at the miracle of life, that my husband and I managed to produce and grow a living human being, that my body knows what to do to grow it, nurture it, and then how to give birth. There was also a great sense of awe as I saw how many miracles take place on a daily basis in the NICU, from amazing doctors and nurses, to advances in medical technology that allow babies born prematurely to finish developing outside of the womb. Seeing how much technology and watchcare was required instilled a deeper sense of awe that my body knows how to take care of a life even better than all these machines and technology. I was often completely overwhelmed while Gideon was there. Though the miracle I wanted most was for Gideon to live (NOW), I know I'll get that miracle one day when he is resurrected, and I appreciate the miracle and the gift of resurrection now more than ever.
This entire article is worth a read, but the main point can be summed up well by this quote from Paul Piff (who I actually went to elementary school with). Researchers study Awe
Researchers believe awe is powerful because it takes us out of our own heads. “Awe minimizes our individual identity and attunes us to things bigger than ourselves,” says Paul Piff, assistant professor of psychology at the University of California, Irvine.
The week before Gideon was born was actually a very fun, blissful week of celebrating for our family. I had met with my doctor, who was concerned about what he saw in the ultrasound, and he had forwarded my care to the U of U hospital (since things weren't looking great), but my brother was getting married, and we were able to attend the wedding, enjoy the festivities, and return home safely. Three days later, we met with the doctors at the new hospital, who ultrasounded me and then gave us the grim news that our baby was far worse off than we'd previously understood-- his only chance at life was to be delivered early, have his kidneys drained, and see if they were able to function at all. They didn't even want to send me home, they decided to admit me immediately and monitor him, get steroids in his little body to give his lungs a growth spurt, and then deliver him as soon as those steroids had long enough to take effect. When the doctors told us his condition might be lethal, we were floored and devastated.
A week or two before this all happened, I had watched the movie Pollyanna with my children. I set a goal within the first few hours of the hospital stay that I was going to be like Pollyanna, I was going to play "the glad game" and find ways to be positive about what was happening. I'm a pretty optimistic person, and I like a challenge, and I figured if I could find a way to be positive in these moments, then I was well on my way to being a "champion level optimist". I am pretty sure that is the hardest time I have ever had being an optimist, and I'll admit that there were moments when my resolve crumbled, and I broke down in tears of frustration, anger, and hopelessness. Looking for reasons to be glad, though, helped me to step outside my bubble, to attune myself to a bigger perspective and a bigger picture, and it has saved my sanity over and over since then.
A few things I was grateful for, and this is not even close to all of them. 1. My blood sugar results came back high, so I had gestational diabetes and had to be careful what I ate, but since he was going to be born so early, that meant I only had to be careful for a very short time. 2. It happened over the weekend of Pioneer Day, which was not fun to be in the hospital for, but at least my husband already had the day off, and many of my family members also had the day off, and were able to help our family out. 3. Most of my stretch marks form during the last few weeks of the pregnancy, which I hadn't gotten to yet, so no new stretch marks. 4. My mom had been injured in a car accident earlier in the year, and had to take some time off of work because of her back and neck injuries. Consequently, she was available to be with me and my kids during the experience. 5. I have an awe inspiring network of friends and family who not only prayed for me, but DID stuff for our family. Meals were brought in, my home was cleaned, people sent notes and letters of encouragement and support, a few generous people helped us pay for funeral expenses...I can't even. Lots of crappy stuff happens in our world, but I know a lot of good people, and I feel so grateful for that. 6. God. I didn't want to put him last, because He is really the biggest and greatest of all the blessings, but I felt Him. I had such feelings of love in my heart, and I knew in that week where we were unsure whether Gideon would live or die that whatever happens, God was indeed watching out for us, AND I am reassured by His promises that we will all get to be resurrected one day. That hope makes whatever happens in this life, on this Earth OK.
Maybe you think I'm nuts for trying to be grateful in a horrible situation. There is good science behind why being grateful is good for us, here are two articles about it: Newsweek: 5 scientifically proven benefits of gratitude Neuroscience of why Gratitude makes us healthier
One great source of comfort for Scott and I was a talk given by an apostle from our church, Dieter F. Uchtdorf, entitled Grateful in Any Circumstances One of my favorite quotes from it is now up in my house:
How much of life do we miss by waiting to see the rainbow, before thanking God that there is rain?
I was looking for so many reasons to be grateful, and they WERE there, but I did have to look for them. And I can see what that "rain" has done, in the hindsight of a few years. I am better because of what I have experienced, even if it is painful.
I had a striking epiphany this week. In Luke 17 you can read the short story of when Jesus heals 10 lepers, and only 1 comes back to thank him for it. When this happens, Jesus talks to the one who came back and tells him (and only him, since he's the one who came back) "Arise, go thy way: thy faith hath made thee whole." He didn't have to tell the man this about his leprosy; it had been healed before the man came back to thank Jesus. And the man could have gone on his way without coming back to talk to Jesus and getting Jesus' permission to do so. Maybe... or even probably, Jesus was talking about something else that had been made whole by his faith, by his recognition of the Savior's hand in his life. And I realized that perhaps it was like me. Faith makes me whole. Losing a child still hurts, it feels like there is a part of me that's missing, and I just have to carry on without it. That pain, though, is made better by the knowledge that it is temporary, that we all get to be resurrected, and I am deeply grateful to the Lord for that plan, and for the influence I feel from Him in my life. That faith, my faith, makes me whole again. My gratitude to the Savior, in many ways, saves me from despair and grief, from being overwhelmed. I am amazed at the love Jesus offers me. That sense of awe and gratitude is a literal life saver for me, and it probably always will be.
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