Monday, June 14, 2010

Hold your Babies

I've been reading a lot lately about children passing away.
It rips out my heart.

We recently had a local case of a baby who's mom was "resting" while he wandered into the pool and drowned. Tragic.

Then there is the child whose parents are friends of a friend of mine who at not even four months old died from cancer.

And of course, the children who were onboard a tragic flight bound for the Grand Canyon but which ended up plowed into the side of Round Valley High School.

All these stories are heartbreaking, all in their own way.

I read them and I immediately feel guilt for my short temper and my aggravation. My babies are still with me, and I need to appreciate them every single day, because you never know.

2 comments:

Amy said...

I don't think you need to feel guilty because you get annoyed or whatever with your kids. *I* get annoyed with my kids. I do not think that losing a child means you suddenly become immune to their whining and not sleeping at night and whining and general shenanigans, and think snot being spread on your face is the greatest thing ever. I don't want people to look at me and then hug their kids. Hug and appreciate your kids regardless (which I know you do!).

But, that is my opinion and I do think I am in the minority. I know there are people who lost kids and/or struggled with infertility and think they are better parents than those who haven't suffered through it. I don't buy that.

Jessica said...

There are definitely days that I want to never get out of bed, I want to ignore the children completely and let them go Lord of the Flies.
But then there are days that are totally awesome and I never want to let them go EVER. Then someone will complain that their shoes are too tight, or not tight enough or they don't want to wear that shirt or these socks don't match EXAAAAACTLY whah whah whah!!!

And I fantasize about being in Mexico.
I just need to remember to appreciate their little years because soon they'll be teenagers and hate me even more.