pandas, penguins, and people

http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/newborn-giant-panda-cub-dies-at-national-zoo/2012/09/23/e58c19f8-019b-11e2-9367-4e1bafb958db_story.html?hpid=z1

You may have heard that the giant baby panda cub that was born at the National Zoo in Washington died Sunday, just a week after its birth.  (I've included a link to the story from the Washington Post).

To my surprise, the news made me sad, really sad.  It's not that I'm a huge panda fan, though I was disappointed we didn't get to see them during our visit last month.  I think it made such an impression because it got me thinking about the universality of parenthood, the fragility of life, and the profound sorrow that any parent, human or animal, feels at the loss of a child.   

I had no idea about how much I could love and how deeply attached I could become to someone I hardly even knew, even before he was born.  Zachary's birth was so improbable anyway, with years of trying turning into IUI and then IVF, each costly cycle raising our hopes then dashing them days later until we finally got picture proof. 

We suddenly joined this club that carries with it both unmatched joys and enormous responsibility.  His early birth and multiplicity of problems prompted me into bargaining for his survival.  Though my prayers would acknowledge that it was selfish to question God's plan for him, I would beg for that plan to include many years of health and happiness, with or without me.  I realized from that initial prayer, which was my first in some time, that I would be willing to do anything for him.

I remembered the scene from the movie March of the Penguins where the poppa penguins risked their lives braving icy winds to keep the just-layed eggs warm while the momma birds trekked many miles back to the fishing grounds to fatten up so they could nurse the baby birds when they hatched.  The movie showed one father whose efforts failed and the way in which he expressed his sorrow, much like the mama panda, making distress calls and cradling a toy much as she had been cradling her newborn cub.

I guess the news just hit home because I know we are blessed that we still have our little guy.  We thought on more than one occasion that we wouldn't have him for long, going so far as to have a nurse take one first -- and we thought last -- family picture of the three of us.  I cry every time I look at that picture, sometimes even when I think about it, like now.  But I can't bring myself to erase it, maybe because it reminds me how lucky we are and not to take a single second with him for granted.

I might just be feeling overly emotional because I'm tired, it's late, and I'm spending another lonely nurseless night watching my boy sleep and wondering what he'll be like when he grows up, praying that he's not taken from us too soon by accident or sickness, and wondering how any parent could ever bear that burden. 

So I guess in at least one way pandas, penguins, and people aren't all that different.