The Lord Is My Shepherd

I have started this post several times, I'm not sure why I haven't posted it, except that I don't want to seem morbid and it is an intensely personal story.

I don't know whether it was a form of postpartum depression (other than this, I had no symptoms of it with either of my babies) or just my mind's way of dealing with the fear of learning about Sophia's condition, but when Sophia was a newborn I was plagued by horrible intrusive thoughts about her dying. I was (am) a pretty laid back mom. I had been around children and babies my whole life, and the whole newborn thing wasn't that scary to me. Except for this.

I would get Sophia dressed up for church on Sunday morning, and I would lovingly look down on her when suddenly the thought would race through my head this is the dress I would bury her in. As soon as it arrived, the thought would be gone, but it would leave this lingering jab in my heart. Like a quick punch in the gut. I would lay Sophia down at bedtime, then this is how I would remember the last time I saw her alive. Punch. We would be taking a walk through the neighborhood, then who would I call first to tell them that she was gone? Punch.

It was so disturbing. I never told anyone at the time. I read about women who had thoughts of harming their babies, but mine weren't - they were just like this random flashing thought about what if this is it, what if this is all I get, what if she is taken from me tomorrow? People who know me well (especially Davis) have told me that the first week of Sophia's life (before we found out that her birthmark could kill her) was the happiest they had ever seen me. Even after that, her first few months were so joyful for me. That's why these thoughts disturbed me so much - I hated them for intruding on my joy.

One night I was rocking Sophia, and singing Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. I wasn't really thinking about the words. Then suddenly I got to "if you get to Heaven before I do" and before I could get the words out, they got caught in my throat and I began to cry. I let myself consciously think about the possibility that my child could die before me. It literally felt like falling. It was the greatest fear I had ever felt. I let myself fall for a few moment. Then I said:

Dear God (by the way, I usually start prayers out this way, which kind of cracks me up when I write it down - I think it's a carry-over from the "dear diary" days), thank you for giving me someone that I love so much, that I can be this afraid of losing her.

Every time after that, when one of those thoughts came into my head, I would repeat this sentence. It only took a few times. The thoughts stopped, and I have not had them since. As I turned my fear into gratitude - thankfulness that I would be given something so precious, that I would be allowed such depth of feeling - it disappeared.