Hauntings of Death Amidst New Life

So we have this new little bundle of life in the house.

One of my dear friends I spoke to early one morning this week, and one of my absolute favorite people in all the world, asked me, "So what is like having a girl in the house?"

I smiled into the phone as I sat in the recliner with her in my arms and replied, "It's wonderful."

The boys just adore her and gently pat her little head. Mark doesn't seem to mind all the pink that he seemed to object to before her arrival. And I am just so glad she's here.

So how does this affect our grief? Does it affect our grief?

Well, I think it's given the boys something to help them get beyond the pain of losing Andrew in a way. For Mark and I it's an interesting bag.

Just before she came, Mark had nightmares again about finding Andrew's lifeless body in our bedroom the day of the accident. Oddly, I had the same image, what I imagine it looked like anyway, running through my mind.

Then after she was born, as they finished up getting her measurements, Mark stayed with the little wonder, as I often call her, as they finished with me. I looked over at one point as he reached out his hand and she grasped his finger. I thought that was so precious and watched as his face became overcome with emotion. Amidst the hustle and bustle around me of the nurses and the doctor, I saw him look down at the floor and his mouth turn into a frown and a look of pain wash over his face. Quickly he let go of her grip and walked away. The doctors and nurses were all very aware of Andrew and that this birth may find us facing some "interesting" emotions. So they knew that he may be needing some support and asked him if he was alright.

They helped him to the rocker that was nearby and his voice broke as he said, "Andrew." They immediately knew what he was talking about and listened. From across the room I felt so bad for him and felt awful I couldn't go to him to try to comfort him. Soon he stood up and came over to the right side of the bed where I lay and I asked him what happened.

"Suddenly all I could think of was when the photographer came up to the hospital and took pictures of us holding Andrew's hand." He was remembering the last hour we spent with our son before they told us he was brain dead. But the mood in the room and among the staff clearly said something was not good about Andrew's condition. This photographer would go around to families who were losing their loved ones and would take pictures of you holding their hand or your rings on the toes or whatever. She donated her services as a way of giving you some lasting mementos of your loved one. These are some of the most heart-wrenching images as we said good-bye to our son. It's not a CD we will probably pull out very often at all. Few will see the gut-wrenching pain we were walking through in those moments that she documented.

So hearing that Mark had just had a flashback to that....
Oh wow. I thought. That's heavy to experience while at the exact opposite moment in our daughter's life. That's tough.

"I'm sorry Mark." I said to him as I hoped these moments would be few for him.