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I heard the news about the Central Park Zoo tragedy a couple of days ago. A 6-month old baby girl was killed, and her mother seriously injured, by a falling tree branch. For some unknown reason, the limb snapped and fell on their heads just as the father was taking a photo of them. The baby was knocked out of her mother’s arms and died on impact with the ground; the mother is in serious condition in the hospital. An entire family is changed forever– this baby was a daughter, a granddaughter, maybe a niece or a godchild. I can still hear everyone crying,
“Why me?”

I read an article about a 7 year old boy from South Carolina who lost his battle with cancer. Life was looking up for awhile; he was in remission and was able to enjoy his passion for baseball– among other things. “The thing about cancer, though, is it steals your joy. And it does so quickly, without warning and without empathy.” His cancer returned…but he did not. “For him, there will be no first car, no first love. No high school football games or proms. No college. No wedding.” Although this same little boy inspired the South Carolina Gamecocks towards a championship title, leaving his little footprint on this college baseball team, his parents can still be heard whispering,

“Why me?”

I spoke with a woman not too long ago who shared her dream– a dream to conceive and give birth to a child of her own. However, there was something that was keeping her dream from becoming a reality– nature… and a malfunctioning ovary…and an incompetent uterus. Despite multiple attempts at IVF and multiple miscarriages, she and her husband were told that she would never be able to experience the pleasure (and the pain) of giving birth. Something so many women take for granted– the ability to conceive– she had been cheated out of. Something women choose and pay to avoid experiencing, she would give her left arm to have. I could see the tears well up in her eyes as she talked about the biological children she would never bear; I could hear the pain in her voice escalate as she lamented,

“Why me?”

“Why me?” This is a phrase that I have used and overused through the course of my life:
My husband cheated on and left me– “why me?”
My daughter was born with developmental disabilities– “why me?”
Now my daughter has Autism– “why me?”
I cannot afford to buy a house in this overblown market–”why me?”

and the latest– My daughter was born with an extremely rare chromosome disorder– “why me?”

When Kaylee was born, I asked my obstetrician why her condition was not diagnosed in-utero. He answered, “What happened [to me] was a tragedy.”

In those earliest months, I agreed with him. After more recent reflection, though, I must say that Kaylee’s condition is many things– scary, stress-inducing, time-consuming, energy-zapping, gray-hair producing, and, dare I say it, even quite interesting.

But one thing it is not is a tragedy.

The stories I told above? Those are the real tragedies of life; those are the ones who have the right to cry out and question ‘why.’

Not me.

When I reflect back on my life, I do believe that perhaps I have a bit more to bear than most mothers do. Having two children with significant medical, “special” needs can abuse the mind, heart, and spirit–there are days when I wonder if I have the will to face another day of doctors’ visits, therapies, and phone calls. However, in no way am I in a situation where I should be allowed to lament “why me.”

It is selfish.
It is ego-centric.
It is inaccurate.

My first husband left me, but had I not gone through that pain, I wouldn’t have known what was really important in a mate…and look at the man I found as a result!

My first child may have global developmental delays and be on the Autistic Spectrum, but look at how far she has come despite the plethora of challenges she has faced– and still faces– each day!

My infant daughter my have WHS, but she is hitting new milestones every day. She may be starting to have seizures, but those can be controlled with medication. Most importantly, she may not have the kind of future I dreamed she would have, but she is alive!

I think that I take the simple gift of life for granted sometimes, and life truly is a gift to recognize and validate every day. I think from this day forward, whenever I feel compelled to feel sorry for myself and ask, “why me?” I am going to replace it with this:

“Thank God!”