Thursday, June 6, 2013

The Camp in the Sky


People often tell me they don’t want to say anything to me, because they’re scared of saying the wrong thing and hurting me. I have said it many times, and I will say it again, I am already hurt. You can’t hurt me more.
Just talk about her.
Just talk about this.
You can’t really do much more damage. I’m already broken.
The one thing that doesn’t really bring much comfort, is telling me not to worry, because she’s safe in heaven. I will tell you why.

A dear, new friend gave me this beautiful analogy the other day (we met because we have something in common – our babies are in heaven. I wish we never had to meet, but am glad we did).

Imagine it’s summer.  It’s hot, and muggy, and everyone is getting on each other’s nerves. You hear of a wonderful kids camp to send your child to for a week. It’s reputable. It has glowing reviews. The counselors are first aid certified and all have their ECE and child psychology degrees. There is a pool with a personal lifeguard for each child. It is perfect.
You walk your child to the bus that will take them to said camp, kiss his or her little cheek, tell them to have fun and brush their teeth, then wave goodbye as the bus drives away.
Then, you pump your fist in the air and completely forget about them for the entire week they are gone.
No? No.
You worry. You worry they aren’t eating all their vegetables at dinner- even though it’s promised that every dish is infused with a vegetable puree. You worry they fell down and scraped their knee and are crying for their mommy – even though the entire camp is padded with foam mats. You worry they aren’t having fun  - even though they promise an activity for every kid of every interest. You worry they aren’t being hugged enough. Only you hug them the best way. You worry they aren’t being loved as much as they deserve. You worry until the moment they jump off that bus, dirty and disheveled and grinning ear to ear, exclaiming how much fun they had and they wanted to stay forever.
This is my life. Without that last part.

I sent my girl off to the best camp in the world. I know she’s eating her vegetables. I know she’s having the most fun in the world. I know she is loved even more than I could ever give her.
And yet, I worry. I worry because I’m her mom, and that’s what I’m supposed to do.


2 comments:

  1. Thanks for sharing Deanne. Our Josiah spent just over 3 months in the NICU and about 9 on a ventilator. So although I've had to face the possibility many times of sending him to "camp", it hasn't come to pass.

    I think he and Quinn would have made great US/CA friends. :) Thinking of you, and her.
    -Rachel Matlack

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  2. Everytime I read your blog Deanne, my heart hurts for you. I can't imagine the pain you go through every day. Thank you for writing out your pain, I pray that it helps in some small way:)
    -Cherie

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