Sisterhood

Dear Morris,

Today is a hard day for one of my friends. It is the one year anniversary of the day that she lost her precious twin girls at 22 weeks and almost lost her own life delivering them a few days later. I won't share the details of her story, because it isn't my story to share. But she and I have a story of our own, and I do want to share that one with you.

This friend and I met almost 10 years ago, although we were more like adversaries than friends back then. I wanted to assume the worst about her when I met her, and so I did. It framed most of our early relationship as one of pettiness and drama. Then something happened, and we couldn't have known it at the time, but our lives were forever connected as a result. I'm sure that she could have used a friend during this period of her life, but I'm ashamed to say that I wasn't one. I treated the bad assumptions that I had made about her as facts, and I said and did things that I know probably hurt her.

Over time, we grew up and matured. We were in each other's lives for good, so we found a way to forge a positive relationship. We weren't friends, but we weren't enemies. It seemed good enough to both of us for us to stay that way.

And then came the week my friend lost her babies and came close to losing her life. I remember getting the text from someone telling me that she was in the hospital. I was several weeks pregnant with you at the time, and I couldn't understand yet, but I could relate to the fear of losing my child. That call also made me realize what it would mean if this person was no longer in the world. I thought of her husband, her living babies, of her parents and siblings. I cried and pleaded with God to save her life.

When he did, I wish that I could say that I was instantly a better friend, but I wasn't. Child loss isn't something you can understand until it has happened to you, and so I dropped off a casserole dish and stuck a card in the mail. Then I went on with my life, never once stopping to realize the magnitude of the pain and suffering that she was enduring. I am so, so grateful that others have not done the same to me.

It wasn't until I lost you that this person and I became true friends. Despite our not-so-great history, she was one of the first people to reach out to me. For weeks, I received a message from her nearly every day. She gave me the sweetest wind chime to hang in my oasis; she's left flowers on your memorial bench as a surprise; we've chatted over coffee and lunch; we've attended support group meetings together.

There truly is a sisterhood of women who have lost a child. The bond we share is so great that it conquers the messiest of pasts. It has taught me something about friendship and about the type of person that I want to be. Life is fragile. It is marred with quite enough pain all on its own without us adding more in the way that we treat others. If I could go back in time 10 years and change everything about how this friend and I met, I would. But no one has invented a time machine yet. All I can do is try my best to always be a person of kindness and compassion and to be the best friend I can be to my sweet friend in the years that I have remaining here.

Love,

Mommy

In Memory of Analise and Adelin

Lost August 18, 2014, Delivered August 21, 2014