Something positive... please

B has been hurting. Pretty badly. His job, one that is tied explicitly to the financial markets, has been bringing him down for months now. Each day he puts on his suit and faces the demise of the system he is supposed to champion. It wears on him to give client after client bad news -- there has literally been nothing positive to come of his work days in six months. Clients can be extremely unfriendly (okay, it's definitely worse than that) in this environment of fear. He is anxiety ridden, sometimes plagued with mini panic attacks. And there is no real end in sight.

My father has been out of work for 11 months. My mom has MS -- for 20 years now. She is confined to a wheelchair and suffers a great deal. The COBRA insurance, medical expenses and drug costs are outrageous for anyone, especially a family whose single earner is not working. And there is no real end in sight.

My brother-in-law is still technically employed though they haven't "worked" him in several months. My sister and he have been trying to support their family with his side jobs and on the small amount I pay her to watch C.T. while I'm at work. And there is no real end in sight.

As B and I lay in bed talking last night, worry filling our hearts and eyes unable to relax, B begins to recount B.W.'s birth and the precious time we had with him. We close our eyes and talk about his perfect fingers and toes, the sweet little taste buds on his tongue, his broad chest, the bit of dark hair on his soft head. And for a few minutes, our anxiety is replaced by tearful and beautiful memories of our firstborn. This happens often for us. We get down -- more and more about everyday things -- and we remind ourselves that the most beautiful and gushing love we have ever experienced is inseparably tied to our son's death. (C.T.'s birth being equally beautiful and gushing, with a completely different outcome.)

My boys remind me that beauty and hope and love can be found in all sorts of situations, circumstances and outcomes - from the good to the utterly devastating. I don't feel this way every day. In fact, I might feel differently tomorrow. But I've come a long way...