The Power of Love And Loss

Day in and day out I write about the things on my mind and occasionally, I write about the things on my heart. It probably seems more so the latter lately because I am having to make difficult decisions about Austin's medical care that are complicated and risky. Sometimes the risk is paralyzing.

Two and a half years ago these defining moments seemed so far away.





I know more now. I accept more now. But I also worry more now. I'm just not sure I am ready to say goodbye yet. Because that is a risk. However small, it does exist. To help myself get past the worry I try to focus on the benefits that these changes will create for Austin. But still, it's always sort of there.

On nights like tonight, when I learn that someone is preparing to lay their sweet baby to rest, I just stop in my tracks and thank God that we have made it this far. There were so many moments when things could have gone wrong and I could have been that mother

The one who lays her child to rest. I don't ever want to be that mother. No one does.

I am truly in awe of those with the inner strength to take something as tragic as losing a child and to turn it into something more, an act of goodness, of grace. I'm speaking of course, of the mother who starts a foundation or a non-profit and inspires others in the memory of her child. The mother who blogs, shares and puts her pen into action to record a life worth knowing. The mother who forms jog-a-thons, runs a support group and holds the hands of other families. Those mothers.

If there is one thing I have learned on this special path, it is that mothers instinctively fight for their children. Sometimes they are worn and tired from the battle, but they keep on going. Sometimes they acknowledge that they need to lay down our weapons and cuddle up next to our children as they take their last breaths. I know too many of those mothers.

I hear their stories and I ask myself the very question that I get asked. How does she do it?

And of course I already know the answer.

Margaret Rudkin knew the answer too. Not long ago I read Margaret's inspiring story and felt a sort of kinship to her. You see, she was the mother of a child with severe food allergies and asthma. Her son was unable to eat most processed foods and feeding him was a challenge. I know that challenge. I live it everyday, for different reasons, but the frustration is there.

Margaret, like so many special mothers I know, was determined to help her son thrive. She put him on a special diet of fruits and vegetables and tried to eliminate processed foods from his diet. Some might have called her an organic mom, before it was even popular. In an attempt to help her son get healthy, she decided to take matters into her own hands {literally} and bake him bread. She had a revolutionary idea - using whole grain ingredients, why not bake the vitamins and nutrients right into the bread? When her son started to thrive, the doctors who had written her off soon began singing her praises.

Did she do it because she liked to bake? No, in fact she had never baked before. Did she do it for fame and fortune? Hardly, it was 1937 and the World was about to go to war. She did it for one reason and one reason only, for her child's survival.

I'm sure if she had sat down at her kitchen table and explained to her family that she was going to start a multi-million dollar company they would have laughed. She did not set out to create Pepperidge Farm, it was born out of love for her son.

The most cherished things are born out of love for our children, be it bread, blogs or books.

I have written this post as a part of Blog Nosh Magazine's carnival Celebrate the Heart and Art of Motherhood.


Thanks for peeking,