When Patricia died, I was amazed the world continued spinning. I had a hard time understanding how life could go on when our family had suffered such a tragedy. One of the normal feelings I experienced was anger. At the time, my intense anger made me selfish. I believed that because I lost a child, all of the other things in my life should be easy. Everyone should be nice to me, after all, don't they know I just lost my daughter? Unlike some people who prefer to grieve privately, I wanted people to go out of their way to make grand gestures of kindness and support. Looking back, I know it is because I felt the more people did for me, the more they were acknowledging Patricia's life and how much it hurts me to live without her.
My husband felt similarly. In fact, after Patricia died, he began playing the lottery. Our three birthdays make a perfect five-number pick and our anniversary month and day is the same, hello Powerball number! The year she died, her due date of May 30th was a draw day and I'll admit to being genuinely surprised when we didn't win. After all we suffered, we both felt we deserved something wonderful to come our way. (17.5 months later, we still haven't hit the jackpot but my husband continues to faithfully buy tickets!)
My feelings just after Anna was born were similar, though not quite as intense. The following is a story often seen in online Preemie communities I am a part of:
How Preemie Moms Are Chosen(Adapted from Erma Bombeck)
Did you ever wonder how the mothers of premature babies are chosen?
Somehow, I visualize God hovering Earth, selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As he observes, he instructs his angels to take notes in a giant ledger.
“Armstrong, Beth, son. Patron Saint…give her Gerard. He’s used to profanity.”
Finally, he passes a name to an angel and smiles. “Give her a preemie.”
The angel is curious. “Why this one God? She’s so happy.” “Exactly,” smiles God. “Could I give a premature baby a mother who knows no laughter? That would be cruel.”
“But does she have the patience?” asks the angel.
“I don’t want her to have too much patience, or she’ll drown in a sea of self-pity and despair.
Once the shock and resentment wear off, she’ll handle it.
I watched her today. She has that sense of self and independence so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I am going to give her has a world of it’s own. She has to make it live in her world, and that’s not going to be easy.”
God smiles. “This one is perfect. She has just the right amount of selfishness. “
The angel gasps, “Selfishness! Is that a virtue?”
God nods. “If she can’t separate herself from the child occasionally, she will never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she is to be envied.
She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary.
When her child says “momma” for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it.
I will permit her to see clear the things that I see – ignorance, cruelty, prejudice – and allow her to rise above them.
She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side.”
“But what about her Patron Saint?” asks the angel, his pen poised in the air. God smiles.
“A mirror will suffice.”
The first time I read it, I was (surprise!) angry. My religious beliefs are a post of their own, but I do not believe a God allowed Patricia to die, nor directed Anna's premature birth. However, what the story says about the necessary selfishness of Preemie moms definitely holds true for me. My selfishness allows me to ask for what I need, accept the help others offer, and realize that it is okay to feel sad about what Anna is facing while at the same time loving and appreciating her.
