A friend shared some difficulties she was having with her
children with me the other day, and I tried so hard to think of something helpful to
say to her. I felt that after everything that I had been through I should have
some wisdom to pass on. That is the whole point of this blog, after all. The
hope that in some way my experience can help someone, that my baby girls life
will serve as a lesson to someone else – that she will be able to shine
brightly even after death has taken her from me.
These hard learned lessons include the following:
- In this logical world we talk ourselves out of what our intuition knows to be true. My intuition told me that my daughter was more troubled than I let myself believe. I will never stop wondering if I could have saved her if I would have fought harder earlier on in her addiction. Trust yourself.
- Don’t sweat the petty shit… I know it’s trite, but it’s so important. I spent so much of my daughter’s life worrying about things that would have come together if I would have just been able to relax… I lost precious time with my baby and it will never be made up for. Sitting at her graveside doesn't do anything for her. Sitting at her bedside would have.
- Be patient and be present. In all of my failings, this is my greatest. I worked far more than I needed to in order to be a good provider, and in doing so I failed to let my baby know that she was among the most important parts of my life. Her belief that there was distance between us was further supported by my often impatient nature – I was so worn out that I wasn't the mother I now wish I was. I can make this up to my two remaining children; I can never not fail her.
- I don’t have to know everything, I just have to listen. Not knowing how to help her sister deal with my babies death makes me realize that sometimes having the answer isn't important. Listening and hugging and sometimes screaming together can be enough. Again, it just requires listening to your heart, and to the people you love who are in pain – your heart can lead you better than your brain.
- It’s OK to be mad. Or sad. And it’s actually OK to be happy. Don’t hide behind your misery.
It doesn't seem like much, when I
put it on paper. I will probably add more lessons as time goes on and my pain
dulls and I start to recognize the new wisdom that takes seed from this
horrible experience. It's hard to think of something good coming out of my daughter’s
death. I will accept my lessons, and pray that it will help to save someone else.
