Me: [mee] - pronoun





native Seattle girl . 32 years old . blissfully married . city girl . wanderluster . interior designer . travel writer . cockeyed optimist . coloratura soprano . theatre enthusiast . proud police wife . zumba addict . architecture fiend . hopeless Anglophile . committed Christian . politically moderate . history nut . Starbucks addict . bookworm . wordsmith . filmophile . music geek . museum rat . not-so-closet shopaholic . student of drawing, dance, cooking, photography and languages . value life experience far above financial worth . appreciative of living healthy, but not at the expense of chocolate . never want to stop learning, laughing and seeing the beauty in all that is around me.

For more on that aforementioned wanderlust problem, click here.




10 January 2012

To honor a child I'll never meet

I’m tired of being sad; it's exhausting. I must sound bipolar at this point, but that is the unadulterated truth of where I am today.

It doesn’t mean I’ve already forgotten. Far from it. I still have a lot of ugly things to face, and I don't intend to hide from them. There will be difficult days, there will be emotional breakdowns, there will be struggles. I will allow them to come, be patient with my healing and forgive myself when I slip.

But today, I had a realization that slapped me in the face: if this precious, lost child were to stand before me right now, what kind of person would I want them to see staring back at them? For the first time in a long while, I felt absolute certainty:

I choose to honor this child that I’ll never meet
by consciously deciding to be the kind of person
that child would be proud to call his/her mother.


It is said that tragedy can remind you of your blessings, and when I look around me, I see blessings everywhere. Our heartbreak - harsh and unjustified though it may be - does not negate our joy. Instead, it adds depth and appreciation to the story of our life. If my husband and I choose to focus only on the pain and confusion, all the good gets washed away, and we are the ones who suffer. We will always carry this scar, but we choose to make it a reminder not only of hurt, but also of hope. To honor the legacy of our child, we choose to continue to live the kind of lives that would be deserving of that honor.

Dear Baby,

People may never get to meet you,
but when they meet your parents,
they'll know how special you would've been.

We promise.

4 responses:

Kari said...

This brought tears to my eyes. I know your child would be proud to have you as his or her mother. Know that I'm still praying for you and your husband continually.

wanderingbtrfly said...

What an incredible post.

Mom said...

Me too, absolutely the truth. You are in my prayers continually and I love you so much Lisa & Michael.

Ginger said...

I know this response is belated, and I feel like there are no words that can even come close to being enough for what you are going through. But I wanted you to know that I care deeply and you are continually in my prayers!