Empathy is...

The nurse adjusted my belly monitors, looked me in the eye, and crinkled her forehead. "This is going to hit you honey. It might be when your husband gets home from his trip tonight and it might be next week, but it's going to wash over you and you are going to have emotions to work through and you need to make sure you let yourself cry and work through them." 

I nodded and thanked her, but thought "not me." Surely people who have lost someone they love or had a serious injury go through that kind of post traumatic stress. So understandable. It happened to me when I miscarried last year 12 weeks into my pregnancy. You are allowed to grieve those types of things. 

But my babies didn't have a scratch on them. The sweet boy in my belly had a strong heartbeat and the blood tests looked good and I had a healthy (albeit sore) body too. I was feeling a lot of emotions but my primary emotion was gratitude for the miracle that God gave us in walking away from this, unscathed:

I felt intense gratitude for all the kind people at the scene of the accident. The men who instantly appeared and helped me get my kids out of our car within seconds. The gentleman who walked into the corner gas station and bought Violet and Henry candy bars, knowing they needed a distraction to help them calm down. The nurse who looked over my babies and asked us the important questions at the scene, giving me some instant assurance that everyone was ok. My sweet friend Anne who showed up at the wreck within minutes to check on us and my mom and my brother and sister-in-law who took care of the kids and I all day since Ty was traveling for work and couldn't get home until late that night... The list goes on. I felt so much gratitude.

Sure, there was guilt. A lot of it. 

I wasn't texting, or changing the radio, or looking down when the accident happened. I was talking to my mom on speaker phone, letting her know that the kids and I were on our way to pick her up to go visit my grandma in Wisconsin. I spaced out driving on a road that I drive on every day and didn't realize the light had turned red. It was an accident, but it was all my fault. 

Driving again wouldn't be easy, but that would surely get better over time, and if anything this was a wake up call to be hyper vigilant every time I stepped into a vehicle. 

I was fine. I was beyond thankful to God. I just wanted to get home to my babies. 

But the nurse was right. It was almost 48 hours before the emotion of the accident really hit me. And it was so much darker than I could have ever expected. Every time I closed my eyes I pictured Violet and Henry hanging upside-down and screaming inside a smashed car that was filling up with smoke. I imagined the little boy in my belly had been harmed in some unseen way when big, dark bruises started to appear across my chest from where the seatbelt had caught me. When I was able to sleep I had nightmares about flipping our car into a lake and not being able to get the windows open, about losing my babies in malls. The guilt and fear were crushing, and while every part of me wanted to just be THANKFUL, I knew I should JUST be thankful, I truly wanted to die when I really thought about what my stupid mistake could have done to the sweet children that God had entrusted me with. 

I knew this guilt was not from Him, rational Kelly of course KNEW that truth, but there was this darkness attacking me every time I had a second alone with my thoughts; every time my precious little boy retold his jarring memory of the accident: "Car! Bonk! Upside-down! Smoke!"

I cried for 2 days and had panic attacks; I hated myself so deeply and felt so afraid. I didn't want to see or talk to anyone, I was so ashamed of what had happened and how poorly I was suddenly handling it. I can't really explain why I felt all the things I felt, they just washed over me like a tidal wave and I felt like I was drowning. 

The beauty that can come out of any trial, I know, is compassion. And I feel like in this dark patch I learned something so important about what empathy really is. 

The people who helped me get through the dark couple of days following the accident did not just remind me of how lucky I was that my babies were safe or what a miracle God had provided us, because they knew that I KNEW those things already. I felt them deep in my soul. 

The people who were a great comfort and helped me move away from a place of paralyzing guilt and anxiety were the kind souls who said, "that must have been so awful. I can't even imagine what you are going through. We've all spaced out in the car before, it could happen to anyone." 

They were the people that cried with me and that sweet nurse at CDH who probably didn't realize at the time her words would be like a salve when I suddenly started experiencing all these dark emotions that I couldn't understand. They were the kind people who dropped off chicken pot pie (Thanks Aunt Jenny!) and gourmet doughnuts (Thanks Kristen!) without even asking, so thoughtfully anticipating that I would never ask for help but would be sore and drained for days. They were my mom and step-dad who knew I wouldn't sleep well when Ty had to go out of town again and insisted on camping out in our basement overnight so I could get some rest. 

I realized, in this experience, that true empathy is never, ever about trying to fix someone's perspective. Empathy is the willingness to step inside someone's perspective and offer genuine compassion; to just be there with them in the trial. True empathy releases loved ones from the darkness of feeling alone in their suffering or guilty because of it, which frees them up to accept the pain as normal and begin to truly work through it. 

Empathetic people know that their perspective is not the only perspective. Empathetic people care enough and take the time to try and see (and even feel) things another way.

 

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled. And he said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus wept. 

John 11: 33-35

This week has revealed to me a lot of things, but I think one of the most important take aways was that I always, always, always want to be the kind of person who errs on the side of true empathy. 

kb

Author's Note: Kiddos, baby and I are doing just fine this week (and baking up a storm today aka baking one cake and then eating lots of frosting) To all those I didn't mention in this post who prayed over us, called, and texted... Thank you! Your support and love meant so much more to our family than you probably even realized! ❤️