I was watching the first episode of American Idol just now (a few days late). They always try to grip you. Those emotional stories that tug at your heartstrings. That last story definitely got me. Just a little moisture in my eyes welled up thinking about a hope for that family of twins who had been down on their luck for so long.
Everyone experiences heartache. It's not all the same kind or at the same time, but we all have our battles and crosses to bear.
It got me thinking about our situation and how though I am physically and emotionally changed forever, it does not define me. I am reminded of this when I go somewhere no one knows me. I stop in at the grocery store or sub at a school where no one recognizes me. To them, I'm a
But this doesn't define me. I am still a wife to the most loving husband I could've ever married, a sister, a daughter to my supportive parents (and in-laws), a teacher to many, a friend to so many amazingly supportive friends (even those I apologetically have not called back... I will soon friends. I'm getting there), a home owner, a sort-of runner, a blogger, an independent woman... and the list can go on.
I will not let sadness define forever. I know hope is out there for us and that our son is not in pain. Selfishly, we are the ones in pain. He never knew to be sad, to hurt. He never scraped his knee, felt rejection, pain, suffering. This world is full of that. Though we're selfishly mourning the life we anticipated with him, we know he's not coming back. But I refuse to live my life like he is forgotten. He is not forgotten. He will never be forgotten. He was our firstborn. The fact that I had Andrew does not define who I still am, but it does define how I will continue my life.
Having him has given me more compassion for others and their struggles. I've always had a hard shell coating and struggled with this. Of all the sadness I am experiencing, Andrew is teaching me the ability to be compassionate. I've always been an advocate for children, but I have an even stronger desire now that I have become a BLM.
Thanks, Andrew. Though I miss you terribly, you're teaching me so much about love.