My cousin recently posted an article on Facebook called "Top Five Regrets of the Dying." You can read the entire article here. Not surprisingly, losing a child makes one think about these topics more often.
Weston only got to live for three weeks. I have regrets about his life, and the lack thereof, that could fill up the Internet. More than anything, I regret that horribly substandard placenta of mine that was ultimately responsible for his too-early arrival that cut his life so short.
During my pregnancy and during Weston's life, everything else fell away. I stayed in bed for three months to help him live. I missed out on so much during that time, but I have no regrets. Keeping him alive was my priority, and all other obligations disappeared. Experiencing my son's life being cruelly cut short has necessarily caused a radical shifting in priorities.
For the article, a palliative nurse discussed her findings with respect to the "top five" regrets of the dying, based on conversations she had with dying people over the years. Here they are. Think about them.
1) I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
Wow. Making sure this is NOT one of your regrets requires constant self-examination and vigilance. Values shift and change as life goes on, so living a life true to oneself now might look completely different than it would have ten, or even five, years ago.
This one is a little difficult for me to honestly assess at this point in my life. After losing Weston, I don't know what I want out of life anymore. Things that used to matter a lot don't matter as much anymore. Or they matter even more.
But I do think that I was generally moving in the direction of being true to myself. At this point in my life, this would not be a big regret of mine.
2) I wish I hadn't worked so hard.
This is a tricky one. I sure don't want to unleash the mommy wars. And not everyone has the choice to decide how much they will work. This is more of an issue for the upper middle and upper classes.
Last December, this would have been my biggest regret. Even though I was working "part-time" (about 37 hours a week), not spending more time with Caroline was really getting to me. Quitting my job was the right decision at that point in my life, and still is. So, right now, this would also not be a regret.
3) I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.
Well, I can say with certainty that this is not one of my regrets. I'm blogging about the death of my son for the whole world to see, so I think it is safe to say I am expressing my feelings.
4) I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
This one is a mixed bag. Weston's death has rekindled so many friendships. Ironically, they are often one-sided, since I don't have the emotional strength to respond to everyone. But I am so touched by so many people reaching out to me; I do not take it for granted.
At this moment in my life, this one would not be a regret. But a year ago, it probably would have made my top five. It was just too easy for life to get in the way of spending time with friends.
5) I wish that I had let myself be happier.
The article refers to happiness being a choice and the fact that we have opportunities to make choices that will lead to happiness. I would argue that the biggest predictors of happiness are outside of our control: we have no control over the deaths of our loved ones, for example. Losing Weston has obviously devastated me to my core; I would not say that I am a happy person right now. And I don't see how I could "let" myself be happier. There are no choices I could make that would bring Weston back.
However, other choices are within our control. We can fight to keep relationships healthy and intact, for example. We can choose to spend time with our loved ones who are still here. We can choose to engage in meaningful activities that make us happy.
I cannot even imagine being happy right now. I have hope that I will be happy again, but I don't know how to get there. So, if the Mayans are right and I only have a couple more weeks, this would be one of my regrets.
This list is thoroughly depressing. Hey, kind of like the rest of my blog! But I hope that this list (and my blog) inspires people to appreciate what they have and to make time for the things that truly matter. We are truly lost without them. I am truly lost without Weston.
So as of today, December 4, 2012, here is my tally:
1) No regret
2) No regret
3) No regret
4) No regret
5) Regret
Wow. The death of one's child has a way of renumbering life's priorities. Not that I'm thankful; if Weston had lived, I'm pretty sure that four months in the NICU followed by years of intense medical care would have caused a drastic shift in priorities as well. As I said in a previous post, there is NO good reason for Weston's death: I'd rather have him here than a reduction in my regrets any day.
It is not as if I made conscious choices (except quitting my job), and any regrets I used to have went away. I haven't really been living life since Weston died; I just exist, and people, life, things, circumstances pull me along for the ride. However, I am glad that, somehow, automatically, things changed, leading to fewer regrets, at least with respect to the above list. I am thankful for the courage and ability to live true to myself, not work too much, express my feelings, and stay in touch with friends.
I just really miss my baby. My regret of his lost life eclipses all others.
Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been."
~John Greenleaf Whittier, "Maud Muller"
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