Memorial

Today is Memorial Day. For most of my childhood and into adulthood, I accompanied my grandmother to the cemetery every Memorial Day to put new flowers and grass seed on my grandfather's grave. It was always very special to me - an intimate time with my grandmother and the spirit of my grandfather.

When asked what Grandpa's job was during World War II, he would always say he drove a truck. I understand that he did not speak about the war much - mostly only reminiscing about passing out candy bars to children in France at the end of the war. It is rumored though, that his job was to drive the truck out to the battle fields to pick up casualties. I am sure Memorial Day was a very intense holiday for my grandfather.

I understand that over the years people have begun to misinterpret Memorial Day as a day to honor all dead. I do not fault these people as I understand how tragic it is to lose a loved one and that it is important to have traditions to honor these people. I do appreciate that many towns still hold Memorial Day services to specifically honor our fallen heroes - to keep true to the reason this is a national holiday.

I do, however, see another memorial in the middle of the spectrum. Those who have lost other battles: cancer, alcoholism, Lou Gehrig's disease, etc. With each casualty of these diseases, we understand more and come closer to winning the battle so others can survive their wars with these diseases.

In the same way, I honor (as I do everyday), the casualties of our own war. This war is personal to us, yet we sadly share it with many friends. Ours is the struggle to conceive... and the struggle to bring home a healthy baby. Our fallen heroes are Julianne and David... and their playmates in heaven. I was fortunate enough to fight along side them in this war to live. Judson and I gave all we could: our time, our money, our prayers, my body to a hospital bed, my veins to an IV, my organs to surgery... to try to win this battle for their lives. They gave us hope, heartbeats to hear, kicks to feel, and warm bodies to hold in their attempt to survive.

Rationally, I know that there is not much more I could have done. Emotionally - the side that clouds rational - I have too many what ifs, guilt, and feelings of failure. I was speaking to a friend who has been through a very similar experience. She mentioned how she still has feelings of panic about it and likened it to post-traumatic stress. I believe that PTSD is exactly what it is. I think this paragraph could describe the feelings of those soldiers who survived war, being forced to leave behind the casualties.

All is not lost in a lost battle. We gained two children that we can call our own, siblings for our children on earth. We gained knowledge for the next war. Our second war was longer than the first. Fourteen weeks of hospitalization, nine weeks on an IV, more worry due to experience, the lack of a carefree pregnancy, guilt over carrying on... However, thanks to the sacrifices of Julianne and David, we were able to win the battle and bring home Veronica and Thomas.

Thank you, my little angels, for the sacrifices you have made for our family.