Lightening Strikes Twice

When something like the death of a child happens to you, you can’t believe that it’s you.  That the sadness and the story and the tears are for you.  That people are cooking your dinner and offering to clean your house because your baby died.   The first time I heard Skip tell our story, it sounded like the saddest thing I’d ever heard and then I realized that it was not just a story.  It was our life and it was the saddest thing I’d ever heard. 

Three weeks ago, the unthinkable happened.  Another baby in our family died.  Kinsley was Holly and CJ’s second child.  Their little girl was born on Saturday, April 5^th with a diaphragmatic hernia.  She died less than 24 hours after she was born.  Almost 7 months to the day after Levi died, their baby died, too.  My fearless husband drove to the hospital as soon as we heard and stayed with them until they said goodbye to their baby girl.  I stayed at home with Baby A and prayed and cried for our friends whose pain I knew too well.  CJ and Skip have always been pretty close.  They played baseball together in high school and have always enjoyed each others’ company.  They now have a bond that few men share.  They have babies that beat them heaven.

We went to visit Holly and CJ together a week after her death.  The scene looked oh so familiar.  CJ fussing over Holly, Holly trying to be brave.  To talk without crying.   To articulate emotions that no one can justly put into words.  We talked about funeral home visits and the decision to have a service (or not) and the possibility of trying again.  We wondered together about some of our more unusual thoughts being “normal” as if anything related to a child dying is normal.  I’ve always liked Holly a lot, but I felt connected to her in a way that I’ve never felt before.  She’s a member of the club now, the saddest club ever, but the club all the same.  She knows my pain and I know hers.

I went again this week alone and spent some more time with Holly.  I don’t think I went as much for her as I went for me.  I needed to see her.  I wanted her to feel connected to someone else who’s been down this road, and if I’m honest, I wanted to feel connected to this road again.  It felt good to talk about Levi so much and to try to offer some kind of comfort.  I was so blessed by the blogger moms that I began to follow the days and weeks after we lost Levi and the ones who reached out to me personally to offer hope.  I want so badly to pay it forward and be that for Holly. 

I just cannot get over the irony, the cruelty of fate in this all.  What are the odds of two babies in one family dying period, but within 7 months of each other?  I was astounded by the “coincidence” (which sounds like a pleasant, positive word, but I don’t know another to use) of having a stillborn baby 36 years after my mom endured the same.  Then I decided that all those years ago when my mom lost my brother, that the Lord in His infinite wisdom knew that one day I would need her strength.  One day, I would need a real life example of the survival that would be possible for me, too.  And I can’t help but wonder if on September 7^th, 2013,  He knew that on April 5th, 2014 Holly would need a real life example, too. I hope that I am not setting too lofty a goal to aspire to be that for her.