Member-only story
Even a Short Life is Worthwhile
Why would anyone feel pity rather than joy that a life happened at all?
A tiny, almost featherless body lay shriveling in the mid-day sun. I might not have spotted the fledgling while watering the garden had I not bent to smell a sweet pea.
How sad, I thought. This fragile creature’s life had hardly begun. Dropped, or pushed, from his nest (from the clutches of talons or claws), he died as he hit the deck, perhaps.
His resting place seemed inadequate. Tucked behind a flowerpot, he may have festered into dust without any recognition of his passing.
Later that morning, I flipped the radio switch. “And this dedication is for proud mother Amy, who lost her new baby after only two days.”
Amy: “We knew he would die. We found out straight away because his condition showed on the scan. They said he wouldn’t last long if he were born at all.”
My eyes welled with tears at the thought of her anguish. Imagine the suffering, I told myself as I tackled the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, then neatly folded a tea towel.
After the song finished, though, the presenter spoke of the new mother’s absolute joy at having held her baby. She had a special memory of those two days of his life forever.
