Thursday, January 25, 2007
the space of an hour
It’s 11:56 and I just finished talking with a friend who yesterday suffered her second miscarriage. Physically, she’s still in pain and hopped up on 800 mg of Motrin. Emotionally, what words are there? I wanted to cry, but held it in because I didn’t want to make her feel worse. “It’s gonna happen,” I said to her. “I hope so,” she replied. I so wanted to cry.
Her husband had already gotten through security at Logan on his way to New York when he got the call. What does it do to a man to watch the wife he loves experience something so crushing, something he will never experience, something which rips her heart out and makes her bleed, where all he can do is carry the bags and follow her from room to room, from surgery to recovery. Recovery? Does that actually happen? I always worry about the men in these stories.
It’s 12:20 and I just read an email from my bishop. I hold a calling in my church which keeps me in regular contact with him concerning his appointment schedule, and I mentioned in my last email to him how much I appreciated his wife for the wonderful lesson she taught at Institute last night. Bishop responded with some of the sweetest words I’ve ever heard a man say about a woman. What I saw in her, he said, are gifts and talents he has “always known” about her, and just some of the reasons why he loves her so very much. When he talks about his wife, you can tell that this man made the choice to always see her with loving, patient, and adoring eyes. No matter what. He chooses to love her over criticizing her. She isn’t perfect, no one is, but he truly doesn’t care. He chooses to treat her as if she is. That, my friends, is higher knowledge.
It’s 12:29 and on my way to the restroom, a co-worker says to me, “you look so skinny!” I tell her, “It’s the three-inch boots. They change my weight.” You look so skinny - - perhaps the most sought-for compliment a woman can crave. I think it may even rival “You look beautiful.” I’d like to take a woman’s poll on which compliment they’d rather receive: Skinny or Beautiful. I’m afraid of what I’d find. Sometimes I really hate Vogue and Entertainment Tonight.
It’s 12:32. Lunch.
But when Jason tells me I'm beautiful, it sounds amazing because I know he's talking about all of me. And he loves my curves.
And as for the miscarriage. I work in a prenatal clinic, and sometimes have to speak to mothers about payment arrangments for the needed proceedures just moments after their miscarriage is confirmed. It's sobering at the very least. But what I've learned is that women, mother's especially, are strong strong souls. And the men in these circumstances (usually, about half are without the male counterpart) display some of the sweetest attributes ever as they are trying to be strong for their wives. Doting, hurting for the mother, the lost child, and with admiration for the mother's incredible strength.
I have always thought that must be one of the hardest things to deal with, and yet it is relatively common. Something many women have experienced in relative silence, soldiering on.
call me beautiful and i will shine brighter than a star!
(Pardon my freedom. But it is nice.)
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