I’ve never watched ER the entire time it has been a staple of American television. I never wanted to get into it; mysteries and crime shows are my niche. But, Wednesday morning, I found myself sucked into back-to-back episodes on TNT. They weren’t just any episodes — they were (I believe) the last two of Dr. Green’s.
Thanks to numerous commercials, I knew most of the characters from the show. It didn’t take long to learn their personalities, motivations, weaknesses. . . and it didn’t take long for tears to begin falling down my make-up free cheeks.
It doesn’t take much for me to cry. I can imagine scenarios, remember past events, or read a silly book and discover my eyes welling. Crying is just a part of who I am. Heck, lately even commercials have tugged at the ol’ heartstrings. If there are any scoffers at such an occurrence, I dare anyone to watch a Cotton commercial or that sweet, sweet, SWEET Rice Krispies commercial where the Daddy enjoys breakfasts with his little girls. You’ll cry. (surely it’s not just me!)
In the last ER episode of my morning, Dr. Green, who had learned his cancer was back, finally came to the realization that he didn’t want his final days to be at the hospital, watching death knock off those around him. He didn’t want to be so obsessed with his job that he missed his last weeks, days, and minutes with his family. He wanted to just be himself with those he loved.
I don’t know how I would deal with such a situation. I can’t imagine facing the possibility of leaving my family — my husband and daughter. The thought terrifies me and makes my heart ache. How would I deal with the prospect of suddenly, without warning, being wrenched away from the bright, inquisitive blue eyes of my Little Lady and the pale, warm blue eyes of the Hubby. How? I can’t imagine not spending every day with them. Yet, someday this will happen.
I know, as a Christian, that I’m supposed to be ok with death. I know that death isn’t eternal. But, I love my husband and my daughter and I don’t want to leave them. Not even for a single second.
So, I cry. Because someday, I might be Dr. Green (without the tv show and big paycheck). I don’t know if I’ll be as graceful, but I hope that I’ll always choose my family over whatever else is going on in my life. Because right now, after 120 minutes of ER drama and tears, I just want to soak up every precious moment, burn into my memory the sight of the Little Lady’s sweet chubby cheeks, and breathe in the smell of Hubby’s cologne.
In addition, yesterday was my due date. Yesterday, I could have celebrated the birthday of a four year old little girl. The Little Lady’s big sister, Lydia Faith, would have been four — had my body been able to sustain a pregnancy.
It’s funny how you can go weeks or months without remembering something or feeling something. Before yesterday, it had been months since I had really felt the loss of Lydia. I guess I can thank that on the Little Lady, who keeps me busy and focused. But, yesterday, while the Little Lady was slumbering, quietly breathing innocent breaths and dreaming her little girl dreams, Mommy had time alone.
Time to myself on September 10th for the first time in years. In the past, I was always working, always busy and distracted. I could make it through the day without breaking down.
Not yesterday. As I watched the Little Lady sleeping or playing or singing, I wondered what her big sister would be like . . . what she would look like. Would she and the Little Lady play together? Fight? Gang up on Mommy and Daddy?
I know this type of thinking doesn’t serve any purpose, but these were the thoughts racing in circles through my head and heart. And, I was the only one thinking of her. Enough years have now past that no one else remembers the day a little girl was never born, was never held, and was never kissed. Not even my husband remembered what yesterday was.
And that’s ok. I’m glad the the Little Lady has captured his heart; I’m overjoyed that she and her Daddy are best buddies. I’m glad that she is here to keep a smile on his face.
But, I’m a girl and so I remember things like anniversaries, birthdays, and due dates. I remember the little girl that I never got to meet. I’m her Mommy and that’s just the way we Mommies are.
