A Shared Photo
Hello, friends. I don't know if you heard about the little boy in Cleveland, Ohio who shared a picture of
his family for a school project - a photo with his parents and his baby
brother the day he was stillborn. The teacher and principal at the
school both agreed the picture was "not appropriate" and had to be removed from
the student's project. You can watch video of the original story HERE, and you'll find the article at Still Standing Magazine HERE, perfected titled "Death does not Negate Existence."
I cautiously opened the online articles, and came to this conclusion: All the pictures are absolutely beautiful, showing a loving family with the raw emotions of both admiration of their son and the profound loss of a precious life. As the author stated, it could have been made into a very teachable moment, one of compassion and empathy. Instead it taught this lesson to the student instead - Your little brother is not worthy of being in a picture. Your little brother isn't really a part of your family. And your little brother isn't alive, and therefore doesn't matter.
It obviously made me think about my own family. The story about a little boy - seven years old and currently in 2nd grade - who lost his little brother. Just like us. The little boy who just wanted his baby brother included in this "All About Me" school project. I cannot even imagine the anger I would feel had the exact situation happened to our family.
I have shared in previous blogs that our oldest child, Joel, has been more tearful recently about the loss of his little brother, who is no longer with us but resides in Heaven. The most recent occurrence caused our 2nd grader to come back downstairs after his bedtime. He curled up on the couch with his Daddy and I and tearfully explained that he couldn't sleep because he was just too sad about Gabe. He said he was just lying in bed thinking about how different things would be if he were here - that he'd have someone to do puzzles and legos with, someone to share a room and a bunk-bed with, another boy to wrestle with Daddy. Hearing how our son was processing through his grief pierced a hole in our hearts. Not to mention that it hasn't been easy on him that I'm currently pregnant with our third girl. We explained that even if this new baby was a boy, there would be such an age gap between them. The bottom line is that he and his only brother would have been close, both in age and in relationship. And it doesn't matter how many more children we have, there is absolutely no replacing the gap that Gabriel's short life has left here.
As a loving momma, am I sad that my son grieves so deeply? Absolutely. As a protective momma, do I wish I could take away his pain? You bet. But the profound loss of our second child is not something I can ignore, wish away, or pretend never happened. This reality is just one heartbreaking thread in a quilt of joyous memories. It's our life, our story, our family.
So, please, let's remember - at Christmas time and ALL the time, these lives matter. They are very much a part of our family. They are never forgotten.
I cautiously opened the online articles, and came to this conclusion: All the pictures are absolutely beautiful, showing a loving family with the raw emotions of both admiration of their son and the profound loss of a precious life. As the author stated, it could have been made into a very teachable moment, one of compassion and empathy. Instead it taught this lesson to the student instead - Your little brother is not worthy of being in a picture. Your little brother isn't really a part of your family. And your little brother isn't alive, and therefore doesn't matter.
It obviously made me think about my own family. The story about a little boy - seven years old and currently in 2nd grade - who lost his little brother. Just like us. The little boy who just wanted his baby brother included in this "All About Me" school project. I cannot even imagine the anger I would feel had the exact situation happened to our family.
I have shared in previous blogs that our oldest child, Joel, has been more tearful recently about the loss of his little brother, who is no longer with us but resides in Heaven. The most recent occurrence caused our 2nd grader to come back downstairs after his bedtime. He curled up on the couch with his Daddy and I and tearfully explained that he couldn't sleep because he was just too sad about Gabe. He said he was just lying in bed thinking about how different things would be if he were here - that he'd have someone to do puzzles and legos with, someone to share a room and a bunk-bed with, another boy to wrestle with Daddy. Hearing how our son was processing through his grief pierced a hole in our hearts. Not to mention that it hasn't been easy on him that I'm currently pregnant with our third girl. We explained that even if this new baby was a boy, there would be such an age gap between them. The bottom line is that he and his only brother would have been close, both in age and in relationship. And it doesn't matter how many more children we have, there is absolutely no replacing the gap that Gabriel's short life has left here.
As a loving momma, am I sad that my son grieves so deeply? Absolutely. As a protective momma, do I wish I could take away his pain? You bet. But the profound loss of our second child is not something I can ignore, wish away, or pretend never happened. This reality is just one heartbreaking thread in a quilt of joyous memories. It's our life, our story, our family.
So, please, let's remember - at Christmas time and ALL the time, these lives matter. They are very much a part of our family. They are never forgotten.
 |
| Joel, Daddy, Zoe, Momma, and Ruby |
*trying* *not* *to* *cry* *at* *work*..... failed.
ReplyDeleteThis brings me to my own "teachable moment" this year. As a fourth grade science teacher, I have to teach genetics. We of course talk about cells and what makes something "viable". Never did I think a brave little soul would pull me aside and ask me this question(I can't remember his exact words, but they went something like this): "Mrs. Isennock, when a baby is growing, when is it a baby and not just a cell?" Gosh, it took all I had to take a deep breath and tread carefully. Since I briefly mentioned how chromosomes split and double, my answer was pretty simple: "As soon as that cell starts to make copies, it's a baby". I don't know what provoked that question from a 10 year old, but my hope is that, whatever his family has gone through, I was able to help him to understand that (to quote Horton Hears a Who): "A person's a person no matter how small."
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