Part of what one learns through loss is empathy. I can try to describe loss to my friends and family, but until they've been through it, my descriptions are just empty words. I remember the days before I knew that level of empathy. I said some pretty insensitive things without realizing that's what I was doing. However, since I've actually been there, I can now share common experiences and feelings with fellow members of the empty arms club.
This last week, I read a student's paper that moved me to tears. His baby was stillborn just hours after the little guy tested as strong and healthy. That is a place I've never been, exactly, but I still understood his pain. He wrote of holding the cold, perfect form of his baby for hours, still in shock because he would be walking out of the hospital with empty arms. My baby was four months old when she passed, but I have clear memories of living through similar moments. The image of walking out of that hospital with empty arms and expectations turned to ash is still fresh in the back of my mind. It always will be.
He described a level of healing to which I can only aspire as of yet, a level of joy that I still seek. But we both know we will hold our babies again, which can bring both of us peace. It's nice to belong to a fellowship of empathy. I just wish the dues of belonging to that club weren't so high.
