...I don't even know how to title this

Disclaimer:  This is my space and I get to write what I want.  You don't have to agree with it.  You also have the right to call me out.  I'm not easily offended by opinions.  Now, on to the post.

Sometimes, hearing loss comes with other issues.  Sometimes a kiddo has some sort of syndrome, or they were in the NICU and had medication that caused hearing loss.  Sometimes their disabilities are so huge that hearing loss doesn't even faze their parents.  I see a lot of those kids.

One of my munchkins died this weekend.  He had congenital health issues and the medications he was on to try to keep his other problems in check caused his deafness.  He's one of two kids I can think of who have multiple significant disabilities, but also have language and the ability to communicate.  That made him very special to us.  He was loud and boisterous.  He was crass like an 8 year old boy should be.  His laugh filled the office and you knew he was there.  You were excited to see his name on the schedule because he was just so full of life.

His other problems and medications caused some severe personality changes.  He had zero filter and cursed like a sailor.  Unfortunately, this cursing was usually directed straight at his mother.  His sainted mother who spent every waking moment of this kid's life just trying to keep him alive.  She did what she could to deflect the swears and carry on.  There really wasn't much she could do about it, but it always broke my heart.  I could tell how much she cherished him and it was obvious to anyone how much of herself she had given just to see him wake up every day.

His father called our clinic this morning.  His dad didn't call to make sure we knew.  His dad called to thank us.  I have never been more humbled in my life.  In his grief and anguish, this man took the time to thank us.  I don't feel worthy of being a thought in such a sacred space.  Helping the kid hear a little better seems like such a minor consolation in the grand scheme of things.  I didn't feel like I should be thanked, I felt like we should have done more... and helpless because I knew we really couldn't.

After shedding some tears with my coworkers over the call, I opened my daily email from Resolve.  Reading the posts from women about their infertility struggles when I just got a call from a grieving father who watched his son die for the last 8 years made all of this IF crap seem so minuscule.  Hearing women woe about how hurt they are that their SIL got pregnant before them suddenly made me want to scream.  Yes, we don't have children.  Yes, we feel empty and lost without them, but what if you carried a child only to find out that your child would die?  What if you spent the next 8 years trying everything you could to keep him or her alive only to watch that child lose control over the ability to say "I love you?"  What if that child cussed you out on a daily basis instead?  And then what if that child finally did die?  How would you feel?  How could you resolve all of that?  I hate to be the "It could be worse" girl, but really - it could be.

So screw you infertility.  In the grand scheme of things, you really aren't all that important.  I'm done whining.  I'm done acting like life is over.  I'm done finding fault with what other people say to me.  I'm done over analyzing every cramp and twinge.  I'm going to find the joy in today, because I only get one shot at this life and I don't want to spend it being miserable.