A Privilege

I have been meaning to write about one of my favorite blogs for awhile, but I have trouble actually admitting that I follow blogs. It's one of those things that just seems so dorky, but I am hooked. In the case of www.thespohrsaremultiplying.com, though, I know it is not just me that has been hooked by this heartbreaking story of an absolutely mesmerizing little girl.

I found it through Matt Logelin's blog, which I saw on Oprah, when he announced with great sadness the death of Maddie Spohr, a 17 month old who died from a serious respiratory infection due to complications from lung disease caused by prematurity. The thought of a child's death is always sad, but it is particularly stomach-churning once you have your own child. Maddie died suddenly after what seemed like a very triumphant birth and life overcoming lots and lots of odds.

Heather Spohr, Maddie's mother, has continued their blog, which has literally thousands of readers. Hundreds and hundreds of people who had never met the Spohrs in person came to Maddie's funeral because they knew about it through her blog. They were the top family team for the March of Dimes walk, and there were Friends of Maddie teams across the country. I probably start crying while reading two out of every three entries she posts. Her writing is heartwrenching and difficult to read at times, but I read for three reasons. 1.) You can't help but fall in love with Maddie and Heather and her husband, Mike, 2.) I believe that reading Heather's reflection on parenting and Maddie have made me a better mom, and 3.) I know that if something were to happen to Lydia, I would want everyone that never had the chance to meet her to "know" her, and I want to do this for a mom that has lost her daughter.

Heather's blog has become particularly relevant to me during these past two days, because yesterday while perusing Facebook, I learned that a person I went to high school with lost one of his twin daughters this summer when she was a few months old. The obituary that I found online said she died suddenly, and it read "She thrived, she lived, she was our little blossom." I haven't really stayed in touch with this person other than a few facebook messages when we "friended" each other, right after his girls were born and around the time Lydia was born, but I remember him fondly as a kind, genuine person. I have been thinking about him and his family non-stop since I found out about their tragedy. These moments make me stop and realize that when things are rough, the privilege to watch Lydia grow and thrive, to deal with the everyday joys and battles of parenting is something so many people crave and can't have.