There are certain things in life you think you'll never experience. "It couldn't happen to me." "That could never happen." "I'll never be that unlucky." and also..."I'll never be that lucky."
I have found myself in many situations in my work as a journalist where I fall into that sort of thinking.
I once did a story on a new addition of a room in University Hospital in Edmonton for grieving parents to spend time with their stillborn baby. It was a soothing room, meant to be very quiet and still, comfortable and private. I did this story as a television reporter, and it struck me as very very sad, but I am not going to lie to you - the thought, at that time, of parents holding and photographing their dead baby, seemed almost macabre. Little did I know how, first of all, the parents absolutely need this to start their grieving and ultimately healing process. And little did I know, secondly, that I'd be in that situation one day, feeling like I couldn't breathe, I couldn't walk, and I...Just. Could. Not. Believe. This. Was. Happening.
I did a story on premature babies, also at the University of Alberta Hospital - these teeny, tiny human beings who just against all odds make it into the world and many thrive. In my story I covered the healthy ones who came home and went on to live full lives, but I also highlighted the problems that many underdeveloped early babies have from breathing problems to a lack of neurological development and more. I am a feeling human being with a sensitive side and I was teary-eyed during shooting and editing, but with a healthy attitude I moved on, thinking this could never happen to me. And when it did, I spent the first few days not in utter joy or complete terror, but operating in a sort of void of emotion. It was there, and I was there, but again, I...Just. Could. Not. Believe. This. Was. Happening.
And last night I was in an ambulance with Finn, transferring him to a hospital closer to our home. I had done a television story once on ambulance crews, and that was the only time I had ever been in an ambulance, until last night. That's not a place you want to be. But Finn is stable and more - he is doing so very well that we are thanking our lucky stars. I almost couldn't believe it was happening, last night.
But, I think I've learned my lesson.
It also makes me realize that just as I should never, ever again push aside thoughts of potential bad things with the summary dismissal of ,"Oh that would never happen to me", I also ought not to put limits on what good and wonderful things can happen in life.
I used to, and had I held on to that thought rather than being open to joy as much as sorrow, having been through these experiences, I might have missed out on what a miracle we are living right now. On how my world and every single thing in it has changed. How there's a whole lot that just doesn't matter anymore, and a whole lot that matters the most.
No more limiting self-talk.
Nothing is impossible, but impossible is nothing.
Here is the beginning of my post. And here is the rest of it.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
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