Maybe She’s not My Friend
Anyone who knows me, knows that I know no stranger. Wow! That was a lot of “knowing.” In fact, until I was about 22 I had a reputation for deciding to be friends with someone, and proceeding to engage in friendship, simply by walking up to the chosen friend and saying, “I feel like we should be friends.” HA! Sounds so funny now that I am a whopping 29. People sometimes ask me if I still do that, to which, in my most recent days I have replied, “Nope, I’m at capacity.” It’s not that I don’t like people anymore, I just have realized that part of my motive in wanting to be friends with the entire world when I was younger, was rooted in a lack of stability in the relationships that I already had. I was provided with very little relational stability or connection as a child, and I searched for that throughout my life by moving from this person to that person for a long time. When I met my husband (who is pretty exceptional), I realized that instead of spending so much energy in a multitude of relationships, I would spend my energy with him, and work towards building something that would last a lifetime. We only have so much energy to spend, it’s much like a form of currency. I am actually now in a place of dwindling down my relationships, and being very intentional about where I spend my energy.
That being said, after my son died, and I was still under the impression that his death was unavoidable, I really wanted to stay connected with our midwife. I felt like we all went through a trauma (and we did), and I wanted everyone involved to be a part of each other’s healing. I actually told our midwife the next day that I wanted her to be our midwife next time as well, to redeem this loss in a sense. At the time I just wanted to be so connected with her! She was my most tangible memory to the season I had with Ira on earth, alive, inside of me. She handled my entire prenatal care and birth, and letting go of her was having to let go of him in a sense.
We began meeting once a week, to once every other the first couple of months after Ira passed away. I shared my heart with her. I shared my dreams with her. She knew my hopes and my goals for my family. I was very convinced that this was a “friends forever” type of situation. I really really trusted her, even after Ira passed. Apparently, I see people with rose colored glasses a lot of times. I have a history of seeing people’s potential, and the mistake of being overly trusting. I tend to forget that maybe the greatness inside of them has not actually become something they are walking out in the present. I forget that although I believe, everyone is created for and capable of greatness, humans are also chained with fear and self-preservation. I forget that especially with those who have not seemed to encounter Love itself, this is especially true. I am learning to discern before I launch myself into close relationship with people who may not be safe. I am learning to use much more discretion in relationship largely thanks to this person. I am not saying that sarcastically at all, I am sincerely thankful that this experience has taught me to be more cautious about who I allow into my life.
In June of 2016, three months after our son passed away, the tests came back negative and it was confirmed that no genetic issue cause our son’s death. At the same time, I had a conversation with another patient of this midwife, who unbeknownst to the midwife, knew who I was. This person was concerned because of what the midwife had said to her about me during her last appointment. Long story short, this is the gist of what the midwife told another patient about why my son died:
She said that she had just lost a baby because of another mom that should have been classified as high-risk wasn’t forthright with her medical history because she was so determined to have a home birth and she didn’t want to be denied the opportunity because of her risk factors. She said had she known your medical history, she would have never taken you as a patient.
PAUSE. WHAT. THE?????? Hm… Maybe this person is not my friend.
So, now I’m thinking… so this provider is telling me my baby’s death was unavoidable and genetic, but she’s telling her other patients that my baby died because I hid my medical history from her? This is starting to look very suspicious. Also, I have no medical history that would classify me as high-risk. I have very little medical history at all. I’ve never broken or sprained anything. I’m 29 and have never even had a cavity. I’m a fainter, and she knew I was concerned about that from our initial interview, but assured me she’d have oxygen prepared for me, ammonia, and an assistant there to help, so fainting wasn’t an issue.
Also, side note: I never fainted during labor. I actually have not fainted in over two years, since beginning to see a chiropractor. It has been determined that my fainting episodes were vasovagal. Not a big deal, and really common.
So, I went home, told my husband, and we had a conversation about what to do next. I cancelled my plans to have breakfast with the midwife, and eventually let her know that I needed time to process some things objectively, and left it at that.
It’s a dance to walk with eyes that are wise as a serpent, but innocent as a dove. I want to make sure to do my best at loving everyone, but sometimes Love looks like boundaries. Sometimes the best thing you can to to Love a person is to say, “Hey, you made a mistake,” or “I can’t be in relationship with you because your behavior and the fruit of your life is toxic.” It’s harsh, but true! If we want to grow as individuals, those things need to be said in order to Love someone well at times. Healthy accountability and boundaries are what cause personal growth. Becoming a person of integrity doesn’t just happen, it is not a free for all. Becoming a person of integrity means you fall on your butt sometimes, it means you make mistakes because of pride or fear and reap the consequences. Even in the severity of my situation, I want that for this person. She’s on her own path and I want her to become a woman of integrity. I don’t wish anything malicious, my only wish is that she chooses to allow this to refine her character.
In the grand scheme of things, I am here now, searching for the silver lining. Our story; our son’s story, has opened my eyes and caused me to grow in areas that I may have never recognized prior to his death. Ira’s story is teaching me personally so much about integrity. His story is teaching me about what grace and forgiveness really about. Some of you, may be enraged over this, even without knowing what was missed and directly lead to Ira’s death. I was there too. I’ve had to swallow a big pill of putting my own beliefs into action over this. I’ve had to get over my “rights,” and allow God to do a work in my heart and forgive someone else with a measure that I’ve never had to before.
Again, for those of you who know me, you know that my deepest desire is to become like Christ. Not like a religious, go to church because I’m supposed to, follow the external rules that make you a “holy” person, but really get to know who he was and become like Him. I want to embody love with the deepest fiber of my being. Jesus died after being betrayed by his closest friends, being mocked, falsely accused; the people who he was choosing to die for are the same people who murdered him. He paid the highest price. He was misunderstood, and had to remain humble. Justice looked different from his perspective. Those people that killed him had to pay a price, ultimately. I don’t even know what that price was, but I know that they weren’t the ones on trial, He was. Humanity has a history of praising the proud, and cursing the humble. He was humble. He knew that his selflessness had a higher purpose, and it didn’t matter if he was understood or not.
If I didn’t have that example, given the hand I was dealt, I don’t know how I would be doing right now. I don’t want to know. I just want to be thankful that I do have His example, and His truth. I don’t know what justice will look like in our situation, on earth side. I do know, that there is a principle; a natural law, that’s been around since the beginning: we reap what we sow. When we make decisions that harm a fellow man, and don’t choose to walk humbly and with integrity through it, whether we realize it consciously or not, our choices will impact every fiber of our being and end up being self-destructive. I am not this person’s judge, I am no man’s judge. Even though on earth it may seem like I have rights, I am choosing to be enveloped in Love, and follow in the footsteps of the man who was killed by the people He died for. I am choosing to wrestle with Him, trust Him for justice for my son and our family. I am choosing the same words that he spoke just before taking His last breath, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
Forgiveness is the key to unlocking favor and blessing over our lives. Forgiveness is the key to everything right and true. Even in my son’s death, being wrongfully accused to others by someone who was directly involved and acting like my friend, I want to choose rightly. I want to walk in Love and I want to be free. I am so thankful to this person for giving me the opportunity to grow, this has been the most painful path of growth I’ve ever been placed on, but I am still very thankful. I know that through this both my character and my husbands are being cultivated into something unshakable. I know that through us tackling this opportunity, and walking intentionally, we are going to reap something beautiful. I don’t know what that will look like, but I’m looking forward to seeing it.
I’m also thankful that this has cut off so much crap off of my heart relationally. The relational lessons I am learning are trickling down through my heart and onto every person I come in contact with. I’ve learned through this that I am obligated to no man. I don’t have to be understood. I don’t have to prove myself. I am enough just the way I am. I don’t have to be manipulated by the pressure of others, and I don’t owe anyone a thing. I’m still learning that, but the freedom that has come through cutting off unhealthy ties and relational motives in my life has been extremely liberating. I wouldn’t know that freedom so deeply, hadn’t it been for this catastrophe. I am still tender, I am still bruised, but I am grateful.