i am sitting in the sky bridge of lloyd tower, where joel’s office is, waiting for him to be done with a strategic planning meeting so we can go home. it is loud. and cold. and the chairs are uncomfortable. and it is valentine’s day, or as i prefer to think of it, the second mensiversary (i.e. 2 months) of sky’s birth.

this is a busy skybridge, connecting the gleaming offices of lloyd tower to the even gleamier interior of nordstrom. posh.

i gaze at the business people striding past. their faces are set, unsmiling, vacant. their eyes unseeing as they walk this bridge they have walked many times. this is a transitional place – the space between their office and the starbucks or parking lot. they’re only passing through. me, i’m stuck here for a few hours.

high heels click. raincoats rustle. keys jangle. nylons make that funky zippery sound they make when you walk. snatches of cell phone conversation … “the flowers were so beautiful” … “he goes, ‘are you kidding me? you can’t” … “and i learned that we are an address based application instead of a” … something in chinese …

and i watch them. i watch these hundreds of people pass by.

every one of them was a baby who lived. the poor feet wedged into 5 inch heels were once pink and pudgy, the bearded faces were soft and kissable, the professional voices a newborn’s wail.

i have a sudden desire to stand up and scream at them. “you lived! do you even realize that? do you realize how lucky your mamas are? do you realize how lucky you are to be on this bridge, in this transitional space, striding between your paycheck and your latte and your prius?! you might have died. your fragile lifeline might have strangled you and you would not be here, you people of the paychecks and lattes and priuses!

but i don’t, because i’m not that crazy. (at least not today.) and because there’s no moral to my sermon. no “go thou and live better.” i don’t care if these people appreciate this skybridge more.

i’m just a slightly crazy mama who ought to be nursing her 2 month old, not pecking away at a computer on the skybridge of lloyd tower.


6 thoughts on “stuck”

  1. I just read Sky’s story and I am so sorry for your great loss. I can truly say that I can identify with you completely. 20 years ago this past July 21st our precious John Christopher was born and died 40 min later. I have never experienced such great pain and sorrow. Our son had a chromosomal condition called Trisomy 13 and had so many anomalies that he just couldn’t’t sustain life. Even after all these years I can still feel the deep sorrow at not having him as part of our family here on this earth. But he has and always will be part of our family and we will, like you, one day be united with him in eternity. For Christmas this year Ron gave me a mothers ring that has the birthstones of all of our children. There are 5 stones including one for John Christopher. He lived here 9 months and 40 min and his short life was significant. I know you have the same hope. Just keep clinging to the love of your savior and you husband and family. I just wanted you to know that I understand and am so very sorry. If you want to communicate with me more please write. My email is or you can always private message me on facebook.

    In Christ,
    Jeanie Burgin

  2. Next time, just stand up and shout. (Of course the shouting would probably be followed by breaking down into uncontrollable sobbing, so perhaps that wouldn’t be the best option… or maybe it would.)

  3. I’m so glad you have shared this. Sorry for your loss again. Your story is so touching and so well told. Proud of you for being so brave.


  4. I have totally had this moment and had to hold back the screams! You are so right. And today, you are a Momma who should be watching her first born take steps and toddle around as he grows up…yet you are one of many who can only imagine who he’d be today. So incredibly glad we got to meet.

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