Impact
by Karla ° Tuesday, August 14, 2007

I have never mentioned this before, but I do a lot of writing for various grief publications.

I haven’t mentioned it because I am rather new to the whole freelance market and part of me is nervous about putting a label on something that I enjoy doing so much because that means that I am actually expected to be good at it.

There is something very satisfying about being published in a glossy magazine and I am always completely awestruck when someone takes the time to write to me to share their intimate and painful memories, but because of the nature of the work that has been published, there is also something very heart wrenching about being so aware of the depths of someone’s pain.

I think of my own story of infant loss and miscarriage and often seethe in anger at the wretchedness of the Universe and what an unfair hand I have been dealt, but then I will receive an eye opening email like the one I received from a woman who gave birth to, and lost, three full term babies. She has no living children and her pain immediately put a frame on my perspective.

Just the other day I received an email from someone who has underwent years of fertility treatments and miscarriages before finally conceiving a child only to lose her sweet baby girl after carrying her and in her womb for 38 weeks. And when she finally mustered up the courage to try again, the Universe decided she had not endured enough and she had another miscarriage. After reading her story I sat on the floor cradling Nate and cried for a very long time.

It makes me wonder how much devastation one human could possibly handle.

Surely there is only so much bending that one can do before they break? And yet, each and every piece of mail that I read is a true testament to the brilliant resilience of humanity and the power of hope.

I know I have said this before, but I truly believe that hope is what binds the tapestry of humanity and each of us represents a thread carefully woven and interconnected in an intricate blueprint of strength and survival.

So to everyone who has reached out and shared with me your journey of loss, thank you so much for touching my heart and sharing with me the memory of your children, your husbands, your fathers, your mothers and your siblings. The imprints that their memories have left on my heart are deep and the impact that you have had on me and how much I appreciate life is profound.

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Comments:


How beautifully written. I had always thought I would bundle my pain up and store it in a closet off the internet. And then, every day, I find myself writing more about it. And every day, the pain seems a little bit less when I realize I am not so very alone. Thank you for all that you write of and those you write for.
Posted by Blogger MrsGrumpy :  August 14, 2007
 

This is beautiful post. I have read your blog a few times but am only commenting now. Your description of hugging Nate and crying was very moving. I think all parents have felt that emotion some point in their lives. It is so good to share it.
 

I wonder just how many times I can fall in love with your writing.
Posted by Blogger AmandaD :  August 14, 2007
 

I know you'd much rather be receiving fingerpainted handprints, peanut buttery kisses and crushed dandelions from your firstborn child, and yet... The fact that you're able to reach out to other grieving parents with your writing and perhaps help them untangle their own knots through those connections.... what a beautiful gift from your daughter in Heaven.

Thank you for sharing your story and best of all, your son. I am loving watching him grow and wishing you all the best.
 

I wondered for a couple of years why God had decided to take my son when he was only 11 days old. I wanted to know what I had done to deserve such pain.

Then I found my new best friend in the same situation. (I moved after my son died.) Her son was born at 26 weeks. She was new to the NICU world and the world of preemies. I was able to help her through the pain of being in the NICU.

At 6 months old she was getting ready to bring her son home. He got sick all of a sudden, had surgery that confirmed he had no intestines left, and passed away in a matter of hours.

I realized then that by losing my son I was able to be there for her. I could answer questions that she had that no one could answer for me.

I never wanted anyone to go through what I went through, but I was glad I had the experience so I could be there for her.

My hope to use the experience I had to start a NICU support service.

Funny how grief works in your life. We all use it differently.
Posted by Blogger Hedda :  August 14, 2007
 

I am always so very amazed at how people can face such circumstances. But usually they do it with grace and beauty, and I am humbled.
Posted by Blogger Gina :  August 14, 2007
 

Oh Karla - I think it is wonderful that you are using your own grief and healing to reach out and touch other people's lives. It's a good, good thing you're doing. And the fact that people are responding is a testament to your ability to communicate effectively and compassionately.
Posted by Blogger Heather :  August 15, 2007
 

You are doing an amazing job; your writing just keeps getting better and better.
Posted by Blogger Anvilcloud :  August 15, 2007
 


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