Twice a Mother
For a week, I have thought of writing this story. For a week, I haven’t known where to start, so I haven’t written anything at all. I’ve finally decided just to start with the basic, raw, painful truth of it, then continue from there.
Last Thursday, August 29, I had a baby.
My baby was a little boy and he was beautiful, but he isn’t with me now, except in my heart. I was almost 16 weeks pregnant, and there was no chance he could survive. We named our son Joseph Aaron.
I went into labor around midnight. When we got to the hospital, Joseph’s heart was still beating strong. But nothing could alter the chain of events. It was too early. Devastating. Crushing. Terrifying. Impossible, until it wasn’t.
Here are some things I know about Joseph:
* He was 7.5 inches long
* He weighed 3.2 ounces
* He was born at 8:30 am
* He has an older brother who never met him and will never know him on this earth
* He was unbelievably beautiful
* He was tiny
* He was perfectly, fully formed, down to his tiny fingernails and toenails
* His hands and feet were about the size of my thumbnail
* He had his daddy’s fingers
* He had the sweetest full lips
* I will never forget him
* I ache for him daily
* He was delivered straight into Heaven and is in the presence of the best Father, Comforter, Protector, and Savior that has ever been or ever will be.
To meet my baby and hold his body in my arms was like the brush of a butterfly’s wings, like a kiss on the face between sleeping and waking. The time was too brief, too sweet, too fragile, almost like it didn’t even happen because there is so little visible evidence of it all even though I can still feel it. But I’m so glad for those moments. I’m so glad I know what he looked like, what he felt like.
The hardest moments were undoubtedly when I knew for sure that nothing was going to stop my baby from coming into the world before it was time, and having to choose the moment I would never see him again this side of Heaven, the exact minute that his physical body would be forever out of my reach.
Losing a baby is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. It is gut wrenching, all consuming, heart rending. It turned me inside out so my heart, my brain, and all my nerves were exposed to slicings of what if, prods of why him, and pangs of how will I ever. We had to make decisions we never thought we would have to make, all amidst a fog of grief and disbelief. Joseph was very much a real part of me, as he ever will be. He has changed my life forever, as a person, as a woman, and as a mother.
Now I am a mama of two. Two boys. Two precious souls that have changed every aspect of my being in one way or another. I have had two labors, two deliveries, two recoveries, each as vastly different from the other as it is possible to be. All I have left of Joseph are memories and feelings, a few pictures, and a box of things from the hospital.
I have blankets and a hat that some precious person donated to the hospital just for babies who are born preterm. I have a set of tiny handprints and footprints done by the nurse who cleaned my itty bitty baby and prepared him for us to see him. It’s so wonderful to have those things. They are priceless to me now. The little while that we got to hold him, marvel at him, weep over him was so incredibly sweet. I didn’t even know if I wanted to see him, but now I can’t imagine not having done it. I would have regretted it always.
Two days after we lost Joseph, Randy’s grandma went to be with Jesus. It wasn’t unexpected like our loss of Joseph, but that didn’t change the heaviness of it. She was well loved, and she always loved well. She and Joseph now both have the privilege of singing praise in God’s presence.
The timing was hard, though. Randy’s wonderful Grandpa, whom I consider as another grandfather of my own, was and still is hurting. As he told me, he “lost the biggest part” of his life. But he also told me “we’re gonna get better.” And we are. I believe that day by day, we’ll hurt a little less. The holes left by the beloved ones we lost will always be there, and there are days that are harder than others, but we will get better. And for both of us, as well as for so many that we love, “better”, the very best, will mean when we get to meet God, too.
To say that we have amazing family and friends would be an understatement of epic proportions. We have been taken care of and loved by so many, in so many different ways. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to tell them all how much it has meant to us.
So far, it has been hard for me to see people. Even though it’s good for me to talk about Joseph and I actually enjoy telling people about him and the way God has lavished his love on us, I practically panic about the initial meeting with someone and the awkwardness of it. I haven’t wanted pity or to be treated like I’m fragile. Although I’m still grieving, I want to be treated like a mama with two children, even though I will only be toting one with me. I have no idea how to go about my normal life again. How do I just pick back up? I’m slowly coming to the realization, however, that I will never live my old life again. I am fundamentally changed because of my experiences, because of Joseph, because of my grief, and because of the comfort and love my God has shown me.
Because what has surprised me most about this whole ordeal is the way I have not fallen into the deep, dark place I feared I might go. The way I have learned more about God’s love for me. The comfort I get from knowing that Joseph never has to know suffering on this earth. The way I feel confusion, but no anger or bitterness. Randy and I both had the option to blame God, to run from him, to hate him for taking our son. But our God invited us to know him better and offered us such peace that we really had no choice but to run to him, rest in his arms, and accept his love, grace, and comfort. And he has given Randy a supernatural strength to encourage me gently, to allow me to break down, to give me time to heal. I know without a doubt that my response to everything would have been different were it not for having Randy as my husband. And because of all of this, I have hope, despite the fact that at this point in time, I’m living hour by hour, and not much more.
So the purpose of this story is not to make you feel sorry for us. It’s not even to push pro life beliefs on you, although I dare anyone to see and hold such a tiny, perfect baby as Joseph and not believe that life starts early, in the womb. No, ultimately I’m sharing this because you, Friend, Family, Stranger, whoever you are, can have hope, too. In anything. In everything. All you have to do is trust. Trust that Jesus, God’s son, died for you. Trust that he came back to life, which is how we know he is Savior. Trust that God can be everything you’re lacking. That doesn’t mean you won’t have times when you feel like you might die from the agony of something, but it does mean that you have an amazing comforter, peace bringer, Father, and healer.
I hope that Joseph’s story will touch you in some way. I hope it leads you to God, whether for the first time, or because you’ve lost sight of Him, or because you simply need encouragement. I’m sure I have left out a lot of things I intended to include. I’m also sure I didn’t say everything quite right. I know that I am not the first woman to have lost a loved and very much wanted child, but I have new eyes and a new heart for those who have. It has helped me to write this, and I hope that it will help someone else.
*The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. -Lamentations 3:22-23
*I will recount the steadfast love of the Lord, the praises of the Lord, according to all that the Lord has granted us, and the great goodness to the house of Israel that he has granted them according to his compassion, according to the abundance of his steadfast love.
For he said, “Surely they are my people, children who will not deal falsely.” And he became their Savior.
In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence saved them; in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old. -Isaiah 63:7-9
*O Lord, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.
Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,” even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you. -Psalm 139:1-18
Comments
This is one of my all-time favorite stories. Joseph is now the third baby for whom I have shared it. I hope you find the same comfort it has brought so many others.
The Dragonfly
Once, in a little pond, in the muddy water under the lily pads,
there lived a little water beetle in a community of water
beetles. They lived a simple and comfortable life in the pond
with few disturbances and interruptions.
Once in a while, sadness would come to the community when one of
their fellow beetles would climb the stem of a lily pad and
would never be seen again. They knew when this happened; their
friend was dead, gone forever.
Then, one day, one little water beetle felt an irresistible urge
to climb up that stem. However, he was determined that he would
not leave forever. He would come back and tell his friends what
he had found at the top.
When he reached the top and climbed out of the water onto the
surface of the lily pad, he was so tired, and the sun felt so
warm, that he decided he must take a nap. As he slept, his body
changed and when he woke up, he had turned into a beautiful
blue-tailed dragonfly with broad wings and a slender body
designed for flying.
So, fly he did! And, as he soared he saw the beauty of a whole
new world and a far superior way of life to what he had never
known existed.
Then he remembered his beetle friends and how they were thinking
by now he was dead. He wanted to go back to tell them, and
explain to them that he was now more alive than he had ever been
before. His life had been fulfilled rather than ended.
But, his new body would not go down into the water. He could
not get back to tell his friends the good news. Then he
understood that their time would come, when they, too, would
know what he now knew. So, he raised his wings and flew off
into his joyous new life!
~Author Unknown~
This is the most beautifully written post. You and your family are such a testament to the love of Jesus Christ, and your grace in this situation is beautiful to behold. As a mother, I can only weep with you at the loss of your precious Joseph (and I have wept). When you see him, when you hold him and touch him and kiss his precious face again, Jesus will be smiling with you. Oliver will know his brother, and you and Randy, your son. God bless you. Prayers are being said for you by so many-- I hope you can feel them.
Often, hurts must be struggled with each new day. I pray that God will give you strength and endurance in the struggles as well as periods of rest and peace beyond imagination.
35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written:
“For your sake we face death all day long;
we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”
37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:35-39
During a time when my mind is spinning after the loss of Mom, my faith is strengthened; your presence meant a lot to me.
Often, hurts must be struggled with each new day. I pray that God will give you strength and endurance in the struggles as well as periods of rest and peace beyond imagination.
35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written:
“For your sake we face death all day long;
we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”
37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:35-39
I have to say that my next thoughts were a bit selfish and caused me to take a very long walk to my quiet overlook where I go when I need to think and pray and sometimes cry in anguish. I could not and still cannot get off my mind that I have one grandson that will never walk these hills with me. But you know comfort comes from God since I am confident that I we will see the young fellow in heaven.
Mom's death was a blow on the heals of the loss of Joseph but thank God for taking her out of her pain. She lived for time with her grandchildren and to have one in heaven with her must be a joy for her.
We truly never get over the loss of loved ones but we can find peace in the legacy that they leave. I can see an occasional expression of mom's faintly on the face or in the eyes of one of my children or grandchildren and drift back to my youth and hear her voice as if it were right in front of me or see her bouncing a child on her knee doing one of her silly rymes for them.
Anyway we have to forge ahead to see what the father has in store for us as we "travel through this foreign land" as in the song sang at mom's funeral. And from the song again "Blessed Jesus Hold My Hand".
You have come into our lives and stolen our hearts Emily and Laurin and I thank God for sending you Randy Jr's way. Words cannot repair your damaged heart but time will and as dad said, you will get better.
We love you kid