Worth it.

Sometimes children say the darndest things. Sometimes children are so much wiser than their tender age.

I began working at a local elementary school about two months ago. I mainly interact with 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders. It's interesting to see what a seven-year old's world view is, what their concept of reality is. I have had many children ask: how old are you? are you married? do you have any kids?

The first two are easy. I don't mind sharing my age with seven and eight year olds - they have no concept of age and think 26 is old anyway. They are probably beginning to to place age and roles in boxes (ie -at 15 you are in high school, at 25 you are married with children). A good number of the children will respond, "My mom is 26,  and she has thee kids." Good for her, kiddo, go for her... That's usually how I respond, too, "Well, that's cool."

About two weeks ago I had this same conversation with a first grader. And for some reason I just decided to tell her. I was interested to see how a seven year old would process the information. Here is how our conversation went:

"Ms. Wiggly, do you have a husband?"
"Yep."
"Do you have any kids?"
"... Well, I had a baby, but he died."
"Why?" (Duh, should have seen that coming..)
"Well, because he's waiting for me in heaven now."
"How big of a baby was he?"
"Just a tiny baby."
"That happened to my brother. My older brother died when he was just a tiny baby. He's waiting for me in heaven, too."

Gosh, it just made my day - my week - for several reasons.

1) She didn't cry.

2) She processed it well.

3) Something like this had happened to her family.

4) Most importantly, something like this had happened in her family before she was born and her parents made a conscious decision to tell their later daughter about her big brother.

5) She called him "my big brother." I love that she referred to him as a member of her family.

It was so refreshing to have told a student. Not that she remembered ten minutes later, but still. I had shared with a student and it hadn't backfired. If you'll recall, I have had some issues sharing about Noah with the wrong people in the past. She had not only taken it well, but had a story to share with me. It made me feel a little bit more normal, and it gave me hope. A tragedy had happened to her family, and while I do not know the details, her family (probably) grieved, still grieves, and continued to believe in having a family.

Because when it comes down to it, it's worth it: the terror of losing another child is worth it for the gain of having a child. Children are worth it.

The Balancing Act

Recently, I've learned the hard way about the love triangle that is Noah, my heart, and others.

You hear about that glow that prengant women get - I wonder what causes this perception of a glow, but I also think it's really sheer joy radiating out of a woman's face because she's accepted this unborn-child in to her life: She's committed and is so excited. It's joy.

It is only natural, I believe, to want to share this joy - hence all the mommy blogs, the internet forums, the literature, the (decaf)coffee talk sessions - all revolving around sharing this information.

And then women have the baby - and it's still all about sharing. To people without children, it seems weird and almost petty and often annoying. You share how much they pooped today, what time they woke up, how many times they fed; every intricate detail that (hopefully) people grow out of sharing.

But where do you fit in when you've lost your baby? When you can't share the first time he sat up, the first time he slept more than 6 hours, the first time he tried real carrots. I think there is a group of us that just lead double lives. You choose not to share about the baby at all - it probably is easier that way - to not talk about how you chose this name because then the person will ask how is the baby doing to which I will (never?) have a ready or good response.

I feel, however, that it isn't fair, though. My baby existed and impacted my life and others: I can only hope that I aspire to touch as many lives as Noah did has. I want to share - I want to tell everyone about him. But it hurts at the same time. Sometimes it hurts a lot. Sometimes it hurts a little.

So I shared recently. And it backfired. The conversation ended up becoming just downright hurtful, offensive, and inappropriate. Looking back now, I can see what went wrong: I shared with the wrong person. I shared with someone who would not understand the position I am in, the position I have been in, or the decision(s) I have made. I did not know this person well, that I had spent time with them.

And so I am at a crossroads: How do I know when it's okay to share? How do I know if it's a safe person to share with? Is it wrong to only want to share with people that will support me? And if I do that, isn't that just surrounding myself with "yes-men"?

And so I have recently discovered this will be a balancing act and I am learning on the fly every time. I will have to balance my overwhelming love for Noah and life with protecting myself and guarding my heart. Because everytime I share about Noah I am also opening myself up to be hurt: putting salt on a wound. In regards to my most recent failed sharing attempt - I will just have to hope and belive that God wanted me to share with that person for a reason - one that I will not know probably in this life time, but for a reason that will be revealed to me when I meet Noah again in Heaven.

And so there is this balancing act between sharing and guarding my heart.