*I am honored to host a series of guest posts by mothers on dealing with the loss of our little ones during pregnancy or shortly after. Each mother has written a summary of their journey and then a letter to the baby they lost. I have found this to be a really healing part of my journey and would recommend that any mother who has lost a baby write a letter full of those words she wanted to express, but never got the chance.*
Hannah’s Journey:
My husband Andrew and I had been houseparents at Wears Valley Ranch children’s home for a year when we learned that we were expecting our first child. What delight we had! What great joy as we thanked the Lord and treasured every day of pregnancy! We soon found that we had a dear little son and named him John. Those months of pregnancy with him were so much fun. He was such an active, precious child and we took great delight in “playing” with him and talking to him about the Lord while he was in my womb. We prayed more than anything that the Lord would save our son and use him to bring about many salvations. But as the months rolled by and our pregnancy was going smoothly, many of our friends were losing their children through miscarriage. One friend lost two babies in two separate pregnancies during this time. We were very humbled that the Lord was choosing to let us keep our son to that point, and we were very careful to speak of his future in the terms, “If the Lord wills.”
When the two year mark for our houseparenting was coming up and John’s due date was less than two months away, we moved into our own home and began setting up our nursery and preparing for our little son to arrive. Oh the anticipation! But even as the days ticked by, the Lord continued reminding us that this child was His and we were not entitled to have him. We were about two weeks from John’s due date when I had a dream that was unlike any I’d had before. It woke me with such a terrifying start, that my heart was racing as I reached to my stomach to feel for John’s movement. I had dreamt he had died in my womb. I was relieved to know that at that moment, he was moving, alive, comforting myself with the thought, “It was just a dream.” However, three days later, February 13, 2010, our lives would never be the same again.
Baby John was due in 10 days, and that Saturday morning he had been actively moving. By evening, I realized I hadn’t felt him move in a little while. I thought, “Oh, he’s just resting and getting ready to be delivered soon. He’ll wake up when I eat dinner with this milkshake.” But he didn’t. I couldn’t get him to move at all, and we tried everything. A sickening premonition struck me. I called the doctor and told them we were coming in – that I’d pick up a Coke on the way and would call if he woke up. But to our fears and sorrows, John wouldn’t move. Instead, his darling little foot that he would always kick me with would just float back up after I pressed it down. My husband and I drove to the hospital in almost complete silence. It seemed like an eternity as we were checked into triage and the nurses began looking for his heartbeat, something that had always been very easy to find in the past. As the minutes passed, any hope we had gave way to grief as I remembered my dream and began to sob uncontrollably on my husband. The on-call doctor came to check with an ultrasound, only to find that John’s once beating heart was stilled. As I type this, my own heart breaks again, remembering the sorrow that overshadowed us. We cried out to God for strength, begging Him to help us. Baby John was delivered through C section on Valentines Day. As I was on the operating table, Andrew was at my head, praying and reading Scripture. One of my favorite passages had been, and continues to be, Psalm 139.
“13 For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother’s womb.
14 I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from You, When I was made in secret, And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;
16 Your eyes have seen my unformed substance; And in Your book were all written The days that were ordained for me, When as yet there was not one of them.
17 How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
18 If I should count them, they would outnumber the sand. When I awake, I am still with You.”
When Andrew read verse 16 and I could feel Baby John’s body being lifted from my own, I was filled with a peace and quietness that cannot be explained. “In Your book were written all the days ordained for me.” Praise God! This had not taken Him by surprise. This was not my fault. This was not an accident. God had decreed long ago the days of my son’s life. The final one was to be February 13, and his birthday was to be on what was one of my favorite holidays of the year. We were taken to our hospital room, waiting for the nurses to bring in the body of our son. What we had looked forward to the most, what we had talked about and imagined, was what we dreaded – looking at our son’s lifeless face. Baby John was beautiful. He looked just like Andrew across his eyes, and just like me in his nose and mouth. Holding his lifeless body caused us to grieve more completely, allowing us to surrender our son to the Creator Who formed him and loves us. We had a memorial service and burial the following Friday.
Baby John
As the sorrow engulfed us, we were held above the drowning waters by the hand of our Savior. Yes, I cried and cried. I went home to a nursery that would never be filled with the laughter or cries of my son. I awoke each morning wondering if my life would ever be the same again. And it hasn’t. Losing a child that you have carried to the very end of gestation is a very unique loss. It is the loss of so many expectations and dreams. The regular imaginings of what life would be like if you still had your child. It’s sitting in the empty nursery rocking his teddy bear as it wears the outfit you had packed in the hospital bag. I would have never survived but for my Savior. The Lord has used that time to teach me more of Him than I would have ever known except through such a trial.
Six months later, we were delighted to find that the Lord had blessed us with another baby. But that joy was short lived, as was our child. The blood tests were showing that it was an ectopic pregnancy and we couldn’t see our child in the sonogram. As the grief and questions over losing our second child brought back the flood of sorrow from losing Baby John, I wondered if the Lord was ever going to bless me with a child out of the womb. I felt very close to my namesake, the Biblical Hannah, who had prayed and prayed the Lord would have mercy on her.
As delighted as I was for my friends and family who were conceiving and bearing healthy children, my heart ached. By God’s grace, I was filled with more sorrow than bitterness, but I had my moments in that dark camp too. I soon came to the realization as I studied Scripture that God IS sovereign. He does as He pleases. And all of it is for the good of His children (Romans 8:28) and for His glory (Romans 11:36). As hard as it was to come to this point of surrender, I finally laid before the Lord what my heart has desired. If all my joy and satisfaction is in anything but Christ, then it is idolatry. My rest, my joy, my peace must be from Him. And I began to heal. I began to smile into the sunshine and laugh. The pain that had swallowed me was becoming less intense.
We began seeing a specialist and found (though I had been “thoroughly” tested by two separate OBGYNs) that I have two blood clotting disorders and Luteal Phase Defect, all of which require medications and intense screenings during pregnancy. We have since delivered three precious children alive – another son and two daughters. Through each pregnancy I had to fight fears of losing them, too. I struggled to delight in them while they were within the womb. The Lord taught me to not worry about tomorrow, but to just rejoice in each day with my children. The Lord has used our subsequent children, especially our son, to bring much healing and rejoicing. And we continue to rejoice, knowing that it is God alone who gives, sustains, and takes life. We are so grateful for every day with our children. Sometimes the joy brings sorrow as I watch my children play on the floor or hold my newest infant, remembering my first son and wondering what it would be like if he were dancing about as a three year old, thinking of my second child who was with us for only a few short weeks. Sometimes I still cry. I will always miss my children this side of eternity.
And for you, sweet grieving mother, know this: there is hope. As time passes, the Lord will heal. He loves you. He has a plan for you that has included (and may still include) much pain, but one that is designed to make you more like Christ. Place your trust only in Jesus. If your joy and contentment is only coming from the hope of having children, it is misplaced. Praise God for the opportunity to carry children in your womb, even if only for a short time. Know that the pain and sorrow of this life are temporary and that if our hope is in Christ, we can endure whatever He brings. Weep, grieve deeply, but weep as one who has hope in her Savior. And remember. Remember your child whose life was not in vain.
Our Dear Baby John,
He took delight in forming,
In wonderfully weaving you,
His hands touching each part,
Knitting you in my womb.
With joy we watched you grow,
Praising our gracious Lord.
We knew what a gift you were,
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