80's Child.

I was born in 1982. And I am so, so grateful that the Lord saw fit to have me, Heather Linn, born then and not before. It may sound odd to be thankful for the generation you were born into, but I have my reasons. Do you recall reading classic novels that mentioned ladies with "weak constitutions"? They were usually holed up somewhere or always sitting, being fragile or sickly or pale. I sometimes feel like I would have been lumped into that category if I would have been living in that time period.

My main reasons for being glad to be a child of the 80's (besides modern conveniences) are:

1. I am alive. If I would have been born say in 1782, I most likely would have died when I was 25 from my ectopic pregnancy (which means baby was outside the uterus and unable to survive). Since it was 2008, the doctors were able to save my life. They told me I was bleeding out (from my ruptured fallopian tube) and probably would have bled to death. Thus, I am ever so grateful to be born in an age of medical advancement where people's lives are saved from things that they used to die from regularly.

2. I can grieve out loud. Parents have been losing children for thousands of years. Many babies died in childbirth as did mommas. Many babies were stillborn. Many infants died from fever and sickness. Death was so much more common, sadly. And when it happened, they didn't get to talk about their baby, many probably didn't get to name their baby, most didn't probably acknowledge their baby. It just wasn't done. Fast forward a few hundred years and perhaps they did get to name, hold, bury their baby... but their grief was not shared or recognized months or years later. Surely there were no support groups for these women. It was taboo to discuss it. This was the case maybe even twenty years ago.

Having a stillbirth in 2010 in this age of blogging and openness has given voice to my pain. I do not have to grieve alone. It's still a taboo subject (I mean who really wants to talk about babies dying?) but the doors are open to grieving. I do not have bury my pain inside, forget her life happened, mask my grief. I can freely talk about her (in certain environments), I can honor and cherish her memory. Maelee is not forgotten. I can even make a book of her name for crying out loud (pun intended) and it's seen as awesome and not weird! That just didn't happen back in the day. And for that, I am humbled and in awe of God's sovereignty, in how big He is plus how personal He is for giving me this undeserved gift.

Even if I had to layer my socks and crimp my hair and listen to Tiffany for a few years. 

-Heather

PS - Yes, for those of you that are doing the math, I'll be 30 this year. Thirty. Whoa.