my scarlet letter…

June 28, 2009

june '09 025

if you know this flower … I am sorry.  I am so, so sorry.

for those of you who don’t know, this is the card they put on your door in the hospital when you lose your baby.

the first time I saw it outside the door was when I was up going for a required short walk on friday, I think.  that was the first time I was able to move that far anyway.   I just stared at it….  it made me sad.  of all the doorways down my hallway and the other hallway, mine was the only one with the flower by my name.

when they were wheeling me out on saturday, I saw it again.  I wanted to take it home … one of the small mementos of a very short little life.  I couldn’t stand very easily and for all I can remember I wasn’t thinking all that clearly. 

I have thought of this little card many times since coming home.  I wished I had one so that I could put it on my door at home.  I want to keep one in my purse so I can just hold it up at target.  i want to pin it to my shirt so that when anyone is talking to me, about … oh, I guess it doesn’t really matter what they are talking about, because I am more than likely thinking about luke.  if I had the flower, then they would understand why I looked glazed over, why I started crying, why I seem so disinterested in what their baby is currently doing.

wouldn’t this kind of system work for all our hurts … death of a child, disabled child, financial hardship, broken marriage, physical abuse …  it would help people to be more sympethic to other people’s issues.  we all have them.

thank goodness there is One who does know all our hurts, who is there to comfort us, to understand.  the One who sees our scarlet letters  and loves us through and through.

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One Response to “my scarlet letter…”

  1. Jenifer–this post is so good and so true. I remember back a dozen years when my beloved Gram was dying. I had left the hospital and was picking up a few groceries. As I walked through the store, everyone looked so different to me–so part of another world where it didn’t hurt to breathe or think. And I wondered if I looked different to them–fragile, somehow, like my breaking heart could show through my shirt. And I vowed then to be kinder to people around me because no one can know the private pain of another. Kindness: its a virtue far too long ignored. Love to you…XO

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