A girl that the Hub and I know had a miscarriage last weekend. She sent everyone an e-mail afterwards to let them know. The Hub and I discussed the news on the phone, and pondered what we could say. Then the Hub said, "you know, I don’t know what she’s going through, but I feel like I can relate some how." And I know exactly what he means.
This thing with Charlie has changed us. To come that close to losing him has made everything different. Whether you plan on having children or not, I think that everyone has an idea about what their child will be like: they’ll have your hair or your love of literature. To have these dreams stomped on makes an impression that you won’t soon forget. But when you get done reeling from the unthinkable, you realize that the experience has made you better–whether you wanted to be better or not.
When someone else sufferes a loss, I pause for a little bit longer. I feel it just a little bit more. My compassion has deepened. Now, when I see someone with a disability I stop and look at them–I don’t ogle their disability, but rather examine their face. They have become people now. I’m not saying that they weren’t always people, but as we go through our day, how often do we look past the obvious? It’s easy to see only a person’s color or religion, and it’s easy to only see a wheel chair or a cane. Just as teaching broadened my horizons with respect to race, Charlie has shown me another side to humanity. For that, I am a better person.
It’s kind of humbling when someone so small teaches you such a big lesson.