As far back as I could remember I dreamt of being a wife, mother, and having a full house of kids. As I grew older, that number would shift and I knew that I wanted at least 3 kids…maybe 4. I desperately wanted the best of both worlds…. sons and daughters.
My mom didn’t have trouble conceiving and I didn’t know of anyone who did. I had zero concerns about my ability to have children. That all changed when I was dating Jeff and my doctor told me that my chances of having a child was small, it would be difficult and most likely I would need assistance. I had a surgery to help clean up some problems, but even then my chances were small.
The ideas of maybe never conceiving, infertility, adoption, etc. messed with my heart’s desire to be a mom. I even told Jeff he could break up with me if he wanted. With all seriousness, he assured me we were in this together.
When we got married, I went in for another check up and the doctor once again told me it would be difficult for us to have a child. Once again I went in for another procedure and more testing. She told me to come back in six months and we would start the infertility process. six months later, we sat in the infertility clinic and started treatments.
We shared in a previous blog about Luca and the miracle his life was. He was conceived naturally after three failed infertility treatments, and a promise from God delivered to me as I was sobbing in the shower one night.
After Luca we knew our chances were still small for conceiving naturally, so after trying for a while, we decided it was best to go back to the infertility clinic. The day before our first appointment I found out I was pregnant with Zechariah.
After Zechariah died, I wasn’t in the head space to try. It took four months to get my period back, and two weeks later I found out I was pregnant. This is the first time we became pregnant so naturally…honestly I still don’t understand God and His timing with that.
After we delivered Ezra, the specialist had a “let’s be real” conversation with us. A conversation that I knew was going to happen, but still wasn’t prepared for. He told us that we were lucky Ezra and I were here and we were going to be okay. He then told us we wouldn’t be that lucky next time. The chances that we would have another still born were close to 100 and the chances that I wouldn’t make it through another pregnancy were just as high.
Jeff immediately decided to sign up for a vasectomy as we knew we couldn’t chance it. My hopes and dreams of having a daughter were killed. Anger and disappointment can’t come close to the feelings I had. I spent a lot of time yelling and questioning God and if He really was a good Father. I would become bitter when I saw other moms with a full van of kids and their matching clothes with their daughters. I would question what was wrong with me, what did I do wrong, and I grieved the loss of the ability to have another child.
Through the years, I have met many woman, who like me have felt cheated out of the motherhood they thought they would have. Mothers who like me grieve the loss of being able to conceive again. Mothers who always yearned for a big family, yet feel as though their bodies and God have failed them. I don’t have answers for them. I grieve with them, pray with them, and feel deeply for them. I hold space for their questions and their pain.
I still question God. I still don’t know why He gave us Zechariah to allow him to be taken. I still don’t know why others are able to conceive so easily, yet I couldn’t. I still struggle with the reality that I will never have a daughter and that my van won’t be filled. I still struggle with the reality that my body failed me and that I had to stop trying to conceive, when all of me wanted to try again.
To be honest I am still processing a lot. I’ve thought about going back to counseling, I am more prepared and ready to unpack these things that I wasn’t ready to unpack before. I am processing not only the loss of my son, but the loss of a lifelong dream, a lifelong desire and mission.
I am so thankful for my children that I have here with me. None of what I feel means that I am ungrateful for the life I have, or the love I share with my sons. They are my world. But I am learning that I can hold space for both…. I can fully love my role as their mom while at the same time grieve an ending to a dream.
I pray that you remember that when you are grieving the loss of your dream as well. Or when you are grieving your child who is no longer here while still being a parent to the ones who are.
This is always a difficult time of year. We go from celebrating our amazing little Ezra born in September to mourning Zechariah in October.
Today though, we celebrate Ezra, who despite testing and imaging showing that he would have chronic health issues, disabilities, or just not live past one year – is the ripe age of 4. He is alive and kicking with so much vigor it’s astonishing.
To those of you who are facing the giant that is an early diagnosis based on testing – don’t give up hope. Your heart along with God’s support can help you either support a child with whatever they diagnose them with or care for an amazing little baby that beat the odds. It’s worth choosing life for your baby – and your family.
This post was written by both Brianna (pink) and Jeff (blue).
Two pink lines – many people would be ecstatic. Unfortunately, I saw two pink lines and I cried. I cried out of anger, fear, resentment, confusion…all the feelings, except joy. This was just another thing that the loss of Zechariah took from me.
Zechariah was delivered on October 29, 2018. I was around five months pregnant – two days shy of 20 weeks. After delivering him, my milk came in. I didn’t get my period back until February – wasn’t in the head space to even try for a baby – and come march – Zechariah’s due date month – two pink lines.
I threw the test at Jeff – called my parents and cried, while Jeff sat there holding me. Then I started screaming at God – why did you take away my son? Just to let me become pregnant so soon – are you going to take away this child also?
Pregnancy is supposed to be joyful; you’re supposed to glow. I spent this pregnancy in fear. It was so hard to be joyful – I was terrified that if I let myself be happy – I’d have to bury another child. I had a hard time bonding with Ezra while being pregnant – and if I am brutally honest – the first few months or so of his life. I struggled hard with the concept that one child had to die in order for the other to be here living. It’s a thought that sometimes still creeps in and haunts me. A thought that I have screamed at God about many times since.
They immediately placed me on high – risk, pretty much guaranteed that I would have a pre-term labor, and my child would be IUGR. Come to find out after the fact that Zechariah was also IUGR – just like Luca – and just like Ezra ended up. IUGR is a fancy term meaning my babies have difficulties growing inside me – they fall below the tenth percentile – and in Ezra’s case – below the first percentile fast, meaning that they have to be delivered and induced earlier. To give you some background – Zechariah had IUGR and at 20 weeks had only grown to 16 weeks.
We still had to assert ourselves but there was less reluctance to put us in with the high-risk team in Modesto. We did our waiting and bided our time filling it with prayer and caution. This was going to be a longer secret than before but we had to bring in our core prayer warriors to help us once again. Commuting, machines, and pokes and prods awaited us (mostly Brianna.)
Around 12 – 14 weeks we started all the testing. Testing that would take us on a roller coaster of emotions. Results that would often come up with your child most likely will have….
One test in particular things got real for us. I remember the ultrasound tech being very quiet. She went to get the doctor and they led us into a small room. The ultrasound showed fluid buildup, Ezra’s heart being formed with a possible hole, and some other less memorable findings. They sat us down and told us all the things that are coming up wrong. They told us our chance of having another still born was high. They told us he could have a rare condition where if he was lucky he’d be born and if he was born, he’d be lucky to make it to a year old, and even then he’d be in severe pain his whole life. They talked about all the potential diagnosis and then asked us about abortion.
The “A” word is a very delicate subject. I’ll be honest – I’ve gone from being a college liberal who would have stood beside my friends saying “give women their rights!” To wishy-washy, and now to being very reserved about it. I think the biggest idea that has pushed to the forefront of my mind lately is that, by taking that power into our own hands – we rule out God and his power.
Having a doctor threaten you by saying your child will likely be in agony if they are born with Trisome-13 is hard to swallow. Do I risk my child, who I’ve never met, who science and medicine cannot not diagnose with 100% accuracy – to live a life of pain or joy? Brianna has always been staunchly against it and I’m thankful for that. The more I listen to stories and live my own, I am more adamantly against abortion. Might life be hard because of that decision? Of course. Having a Seven and three year old makes for a VERY hard life – but I chose that life and am grateful for it. Would it be hard with a special needs child – absolutely. I think you show your love that much more for that child.
Had we heeded the doctors warnings and concerns, had we succumbed to the fear that follow the words “your child has above normal nuchal fluid”….or “your child has……” – our amazing Ezra wouldn’t be here. Despite all the possibilities we were presented with and all the percentages – he has overcome them by the grace and intervention of God.
Yes, yes – you are screaming at me “But what about Zechariah? Where was God then? Why did He intervene with Ezra and not Zechariah?” My answer is simple – I don’t know, but I’ll be sure to ask God in the second half of eternity for you. Until then, I’m going to keep on praising Him – and saying no to abortion.
We walked back to the car in tears, sat in the car and Jeff just started praying for our child, for healing, protection and for peace.
Let’s throw in some corniness. For those of you who listen to KLOVE, you know all too well their unofficial slogan to get you to send in money – “gift someone a KLOVE moment!” It drives me nuts but I don’t change the channel. Brianna and most other people will probably say with vehemence that I am one of the most – calculating – people they know. I attribute cause to everything and there is reason for what happens. But, I can pretty confidently say we’ve had KLOVE moments throughout Ezra’s pregnancy.
Brianna’s right – that day we got hard news, I began a journey of prayer warriorship. But after we got in the car, prayed, and turned the engine over we had our KLOVE moment – the song “I Raise a Hallelujah” was just starting. That song had become an anthem for us in the midst of our struggles. And there in the van, sitting in the Kaiser parking lot, it came on as we began to drive away from the hospital.
I raise a hallelujah, in the presence of my enemies I raise a hallelujah, louder than the unbelief I raise a hallelujah, my weapon is a melody I raise a hallelujah, Heaven comes to fight for me
I’m gonna sing, in the middle of the storm Louder and louder, you’re gonna hear my praises roar Up from the ashes, hope will arise Death is defeated, the King is alive!
At that moment, that’s all we could do. Raise a hallelujah, and let hope arise.
That appointment started more appointments, more tests, more roller coasters of findings. More tears, more fear, and more relying on God while still being so angry with Him.
Around 28 weeks, the day after Labor Day at a routine monitoring appointment Ezra’s heart started having decelerations and I started having contractions. They told me to go straight to labor and delivery. What was supposed to be a quick visit to labor and delivery turned into 16 days of bed rest, 24/7 monitoring and two shots a day in my stomach to fight the pre-eclampsia. I also received the first set of steroid shots to push along development of Ezra’s brain and lungs. His heart though continued to have multiple decels in 24 hour time frames, and my severe pre-eclampsia didn’t improve.
During this time I obviously drew the long straw. I wasn’t being poked and prodded, strapped up, or told not to move. It was still difficult for me though. If you haven’t heard me say it already – I’ve given serious consideration to NICU nursing as followup later in life. With all the time spent in the hospital for Brianna, Luca, Zechariah, and Ezra I, grew very atuned to listening to their monitors, breathing, and reading the ticker strips. Being their guardian in the room was stressful. More than once I had to call in the cavalry because something was off. We had to face hard realities.
Conversations such as how sick do we allow the mom to get versus how sick we allow the baby to get were common. Fear was still in control. I had zero idea if Ezra would make it and now we were wondering if I would have more severe complications such as a stroke, bleeding out, or worse.
Mortality is something we hope to never confront. Yet, many couples and parents face that in situations like ours. We and the doctors walked a thin line balancing Brianna’s pre-eclampsia and Ezra’s slow development.
After 16 days Ezra finally went a full 24 hours without his heart decelling and we were allowed to go home. I was on strict bed rest still but going home felt like a win.
That feeling lasted 6 days until once again his heart started decelling, my blood pressure skyrocketed, and my fluid started to decrease. All signs of “operation get Ezra out” needing to happen ASAP.
I’ll never forget calling my parents to tell them. Luca coming on the phone and screaming “no mommy, why? I don’t want you to go back to the hospital. Please mommy, don’t go!” Through tears we told him we loved him and drove to the hospital where the next day they gave us the last steroid shot and 24 hours later started induction.
Back at the hospital it was back to guard duty. Even though Brianna was a critical case we still had to wait, other babies were ready to come and Ezra was content despite the strain on his and mom’s body. I think we moved rooms three times before things settled down. Anyone who has spent an extended time in the hospital knows what the bad side of eternity feels like.
Having multiple doctors around and only seeing our high risk doctor a couple times a week was hard. Once we got settled in, they pushed a strong dose of pitocin to get things moving but then the next doctor came in and changed things up.
The doctor purposely slowed down my labor as she was afraid Ezra’s heart couldn’t take the fast paced delivery. Ezra was weighing in around two pounds based on their measurements and the NICU doctor’s were standing by and preparing us for a long stay.
After hours of waiting for the magic to happen, Ezra started moving. This time it was just Brianna and I since her folks had Luca to watch. It’s impossible to fill a mother’s shoes but I did my best and just took care of her the best I could. Thankfully, Ezra’s delivery was simpler due to his small size. He came into the world and let everyone know it much to our joy. Three Pounds, 4oz
Due to how small he was though, Brianna got to hold and see him very shortly before I ran off to the NICU with him. Another one of my precious family being poked, prodded and monitored. Thus started our NICU journey.
Special moments – when I think of my most special moments in life, many flashbacks come to my mind. Times with friends and family, getting engaged, getting married, finding out I was pregnant, and becoming a mom to name just a few. There are tangible things that are special and reflect these moments. My wedding/anniversary rings, my purity ring that I got at 16 and wore until my wedding day, my bible I had as a teenager where I started journaling and writing all my thoughts like my Grandma Grover taught me, pictures my kids have drawn me, etc.
While thinking of my special moments, I never would think to include Zechariah. I mean he is forever etched in my heart. My second son, my angel baby. I remember everything about his delivery, how he looked, his beautiful face, so peaceful looking, ten fingers and ten toes. He is special in every way. But I couldn’t fathom thinking of his death as something special.
It’s not like he had years to live, dying at old age and we could say he “lived a good life” and now he gets to live forever with the Lord. Death cheated him out of life. Death cheated us out of our son. His death touched us in many ways, but “special” doesn’t seem to be a word I can use.
I don’t talk about how Zechariah’s death affected our oldest son often, nor do I feel the need/desire to go into details. I will say that trauma and grief are real in him and just like adults, they can come and go, and show up in a myriad of ways. His journey is his journey, and we respect and honor that it is his story to share when and if he desires as he gets older. However, I want to share a small piece of his story with you today.
The last couple weeks at school our oldest Luca had a writing assignment about his three most special moments. His top three choices were… 1. Becoming a ninja (lol), 2. getting his toolbox, and 3. his brother going to Heaven.
When asked why he chose his brother going to Heaven, his answer was simple, “Mama, Zechariah gets to be with Jesus every day, and he is always happy up in Heaven!” Such simple, yet powerful words. A thought that I struggle with, because I want him here and not in Heaven. But my six-year-old understands something that is so hard for me as an adult to grasp…. Heaven is where Jesus is, Heaven is wonderful, Heaven is happiness, Heaven is where we should all want to be.
September and October seem to be harder months for me emotionally and spiritually. This September marks 3 years since I was hospitalized with Ezra, just 10 months shy of losing Zechariah. I was in the room right next door to where we delivered him in the same hospital. October is the month that Ezra was in the NICU, and it also holds Zechariah’s Heaven Day. I haven’t cried at church in months, and today as I wiped at my tears, I remembered how heavy September is. But as I drove to visit another Hope Mom in the hospital today, song after song came on and reaffirmed who Jesus is, and I was once again reminded of beauty from ashes. Goodness coming from something that was meant to break me.
I was able to visit and pray for her today. I was able to encourage her and share with her about God’s goodness and his love for her and her child. I was able to pay back what others did for me while I was in the hospital. I was able to be Jesus to someone. I would never be in this ministry if it wasn’t for Zechariah. As much as I wish he was here with us, if his death did anything good, it allowed us to walk alongside those that are grieving, those that are scared, those that need-to-know Jesus is there with them and hasn’t left them. I am honored to be Zechariah’s mom and honored that I get to share in this journey with other hope moms.
In the midst of confusion and turmoil, Jesus was still Jesus. He held Ezra in his arms, just like He held Zechariah in His arms ten months prior. He is the same God that saved and protected me and Ezra that September, who held my son in His arms as we were grieving his loss. He was good in that hospital room when we lost Zechariah and He was good in that hospital room when I was on bed rest and scared of losing Ezra, and He is still good today.
Through loss and grief, Luca has grown in his faith. Luca has a deeper understanding of Heaven and Jesus, and he continues to remind us of God’s goodness. He reminds us that being with Jesus is the ultimate prize.
Sometimes I am so caught up in “this isn’t fair God”, that I forget about how amazing He is. I get caught up in “this should never happen” that I forget about the cross. I get caught up in myself and the “poor me” attitude, that I forget who God is and His promises.
It took my son telling me about his Special Moment for me to realize that giving birth and saying goodbye to Zechariah was indeed a special moment. Zechariah never knew pain, he is currently running through Heaven’s flowers, he gets to hold hands with Jesus, and he is in the most wonderful place where there is only peace and love.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Joy. The saying that joy comes in the morning particularly comes to mind. When I write my cards to mama’s I tend to just write what’s on my heart in the moment. No card is really the same. However I always find myself writing that I pray that they cling to Jesus during this time. I firmly believe it was clinging to Jesus that got me through delivering Zechariah. I knew that choosing to be induced instead of doing a late term abortion would “kill” who I was and would forever change me. There would always be the Brianna before October 29, 2018 and the one after. But, I had to do this. I had to deliver him and I had to hold him in my arms. I knew the silence that would come would always haunt me, and I would never forget his face. But, he was my son and I needed to have him in my arms even if his spirit was already in Heaven. When I delivered him, Jeff and I were just sobbing uncontrollably, but….There was a joy in that room that I cannot explain other than Jesus. The knowledge that He was holding my son in all his goodness while I was holding his body comforted me and gave me a peace that I never felt before. In my darkest moment, my most painful moment…I felt peace, I felt joy, I realized right then and there I could be angry, sad, confused, hurt, devastated, all the feelings and still have joy. Clinging to Jesus, clinging to that joy that only He can give has been the only way I could ever survive this. I was talking to someone the other day. They had a friend who had a similar story. Their friends always say “I don’t know how people can go through this without Jesus”. Such truth right there. I couldn’t do it without Him. My marriage wouldn’t have made it, I would have stayed in my bed like I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to be the mom I had to be for my grieving and confused son, I wouldn’t have been able to deal with Ezra’s pregnancy and all the “labels” they threw at us. Clinging to Jesus quite literally saved me. I couldn’t have done it without Him. So if there’s one thing I will always put in my cards, it is that. Encouraging these mamas to cling to the only truth, the only thing that will give them joy, the only thing that will truly get them through this and that is Jesus.
I (Brianna) have been remembering lately how God has remained faithful even when I didn’t trust Him. Even when it was hard to see that He was in the midst of things, He was there working things out in His way and in His timing. this can be so hard for me, as I have realized how much of a “control freak” I can be. This story is about our journey of infertility, loss of hope, trusting in God, and our first miracle baby, Luca. It helps to set the stage leading up to Zechariah. This is the first post we have co-written, and it is a long one.
Before Jeff and I got married, I was told that my chances of getting pregnant were small. This devastated me, all I ever wanted was to have a family; I wanted a houseful of kids. The thought that this would be difficult never occurred to me. I remember crying to Jeff and telling him that he could just break up with me and find someone else because I couldn’t guarantee him children, and who knows what the journey would look like. I am so thankful that he didn’t let that doubt change his mind.
I (Jeff) had always wanted biologic children but my love for Brianna was stronger than that desire. We immediately started talking about adoption and how to build a family that way. It’s a desire that has stuck with us and we hope to fulfill soon. Until God made it clear otherwise, we were going to try getting pregnant first.
When we got married, we talked to another doctor, who reiterated the first, and even went as far as to tell us if we couldn’t get pregnant in six months, we needed to get help, as my body would make it very difficult to conceive. So after 6 months of trying, we met with an infertility doctor and started treatment. Intimacy was thrown out the window, we were just trying to conceive now. Our world revolved around infertility – appointments, treatments, surgery, ovulation strips, timed intercourse, and pregnancy tests.
We had three failed fertility treatments. Each time we heard “I’m sorry, you’re not pregnant”, and were devastated. I started to blame myself and hate myself. I started to question my identity and God. Each time another friend told me they were pregnant I wanted to be happy for them and at the same time I would hide in my bed and sob.
Why was it so easy for them, yet so hard for me? What was wrong with me? God, where are you, can you even hear me, are you even there? These prayers, screams, and cries were constant and each one a reminder of what I had – empty arms, no baby. With each failed treatment my anger and hurt towards God and my body grew.
One day after the third failed infertility treatment, I was in the shower sobbing. Like ugly, uncontrollable sobbing. I was rolled into a ball on the floor of the shower and I heard a voice, a tiny voice, “why are you crying, by this time next year, you will be holding your baby”. Now, I am NOT someone who “hears” God speak, and I actually thought I was crazy and said NOTHING to anyone, not even Jeff for several months. I didn’t want him to think I lost it completely.
That day we decided to take some time off of treatments. My body was starting to suffer, with headaches, fevers, and body aches, all signs of major stress. I was scared and mad at Jeff for even asking that we take a break, but reluctantly agreed. We stopped trying, and started to reconnect as a couple. We did more things together that didn’t revolve around trying to conceive, and even went to Italy for a much needed vacation.
Getting pregnant can be extremely taxing emotionally. Thankfully, enough of you don’t understand that; sadly, more than would care to admit, do understand it deeply. We had been warned about how infertility could be destructive to our marriage, but it didn’t hit me until this point. Losing out on emotional intimacy both physically and mentally was hard. I began to dread the chore, and knew how much it was affecting Brianna to feel like she was failing me, herself, and her family. I had to become stronger spiritually for both of us so we wouldn’t end up a statistic. Italy gave us time and fun away from reality to reset.
Florence Italy 2015
About a month after Italy we decided that we were ready to try again, and we had enough left in savings to do a round of IVF. We went to the specialist who told us that I was ovulating and that we should try and get pregnant immediately. We went home and “followed directions”. A week or two later the doctor called me and said that they made a mistake. When they had taken the ultrasound they mistook something else for an egg. They asked me to come into the office and take a pill to jump start my period.
I called Jeff who immediately said it didn’t feel right. We talked with my parents who also had their doubts. I asked the doctor what would happen if I took the pill and was pregnant – it would abort my system. Again they argued and assured me that there was no way at all that I could be pregnant, I did not ovulate and they made a mistake.
We went to 90% of the appointments together, I was there to support Brianna and our future family. I was there watching the ultrasound screen as they skimmed over Brianna’s fallopian tubes searching for those little bubbles where future babies hide. I can remember seeing the follicle that would become our little boy. For me, it was an easy choice – no pill. I had seen the follicle and knew we had a chance, waiting a few more weeks for another chance if we didn’t get pregnant didn’t bother me.
A week later we had a positive pregnancy test! I was so surprised and hesitant that it was a mistake. I made Jeff go back and buy 7 more. 8 positive tests later, it was evident that we were indeed pregnant. Had we listened and taken that pill, Luca would have been aborted instead of laughing with his brother and daddy as I type in the next room. That reality isn’t something we take lightly.
Man, pregnancy was rough. I was sick. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY! For the WHOLE pregnancy. Water was disgusting, cereal was life, and I don’t do good without coffee. Ask Jeff.
Cinnamon Toast Crunch from Costco
At the 20 week scan they found out that Luca was Intra Uterine Growth Restricted (IUGR). Turns out it’s kind of “contagious” – both Zechariah and Ezra would go on to be labeled IUGR as well. He wasn’t growing very well and there was a chance that I would have to deliver early. Twice a week stress tests, twice a month scans, and constant monitoring of Luca began. At 36 weeks he fell below the 10th percentile and they sent me to the hospital to be induced.
If you haven’t been pregnant before take this advice – late in the game, start taking a go bag with you everywhere! Luckily, our doctor recommended it to us because Luca was so low on the charts. We had our bag packed and ready to go, especially we just moved an hour away from our hospital.
At the last development scan they told us to head to the hospital for Brianna to be induced. Luca’s stomach and head growth percentage dropped so low, induction needed to happen. So we hopped in the car and started back from Oakland. While Brianna was on the phone with Labor & Delivery they told her to go grab dinner and come in after because they were full and busy right then. We took the opportunity for one last good meal before heading in.
It is a funny thing to say, but, we were fortunate to have become familiar with a lot of the nurses by the time we were admitted. Whenever they could they would make Brianna more comfortable by getting us a nice room and giving us extra care. That went a long way towards making Brianna’s 27-hour labor less terrible.
After an eternity it was time to push. An hour and a half later, I was still pushing. His head had gotten stuck under my pelvic bone, and I had to push for another 2 and a half hours before my tiny 4 pound 14 ounce miracle came into the world.
He had trouble screaming at first (in fact it took about a week for him to learn how to cry and scream). Then he started having breathing problems, so they took him to the nursery where he was given air and an IV. That was just the first five minutes. I had imagined and was looking forward to my baby being placed on me right away and holding and bonding with him. Instead after a quick picture, he was whisked way, with Jeff running behind to the nursery for extra help. Not something any mama wants to go through.
In the nursery he started throwing up and whenever we tried to feed him he would throw up almost immediately. Because his stomach was underdeveloped, he struggled to digest food. They were afraid that his intestines were inside out. Fun fact he was the youngest and smallest child the doctor had ever put an NG (nasogastric) tube in.
Funny how something happens and you realize it is a God thing. The doctors were discussing sending him to the Children’s hospital, when they called to schedule an x-ray and found out that the best doctor in the field was at our hospital. He just happened to have 15 minutes in his schedule and wanted to see Luca immediately.
Talk about good and bad timing.
By this time Brianna had been “kicked out” of the hospital. She had recovered and was discharged. Luca wasn’t ready to go home though. The hospital was a nice, big, brand new hospital in the town we had just moved out of that was more of an anomaly than common. That meant there were not hospitality options for family of those in the hospital. So we ended up at a motel five minutes down the road.
We took turns driving back and forth from the motel to the hospital to get rest, food, and cleaned up. It was during one of those trips that I was showering when the call came in about the x-ray. I had to jump out of the shower, get dressed, and drive back up to the hospital. By the time I got there everything was done and over with. Luca’s intestine’s were fine.
To wrap things up, after days Luca was able to digest his food and stopped throwing up. After 6 tiring days in the nursery we were finally able to take our little miracle home.
I wish that I could tell you after this I fully started trusting in the Lord. I mean he did save my baby. He did deliver on his promise that one day in the shower, (I was holding Luca a year later). My baby is turning 6 next week. But, I still struggle with trusting him, I still struggle that he is a good God, despite all the good he has given me. Truth be told I am still angry that Zechariah is up in Heaven and not running around after his brothers. I still feel cheated that I never got to bond with any of my babies right after birth and instead had to watch them either be whisked away by doctors, or birth an angel baby and hold his lifeless body.
Its been a journey for me. This isn’t what I expected when I dreamed of having a house full of kids. It’s still hard for me when I see a pregnant woman, or hear of how great others pregnancy and birth stories are. Even though I am so incredibly happy for them, a piece of my heart sits broken. Because I know I can never be pregnant again, and it hurts deeply, despite my joy for others.
It’s a daily choice to be grateful for the many blessings God has given us. It’s a daily choice to remember the miracles and blessings instead of focusing on the hurt and the pain. So Today, I am choosing to be so incredibly grateful and thankful that 7 years ago he spoke to me in a quiet voice, that almost 6 years ago His promise came true, and that today I have the amazing privilege of being Luca’s mama.
I did something recently. Something completely out of my comfort zone. Something that scares me, makes me uncomfortable, and makes me question if I should “undo” it. With a lot of prompting, and pushing from Jeff, I signed up to attend my first Hope Mommy Retreat, coming up in April.
The thing is for the past 3 years I have had a hard time feeling alone in this journey. I mean Jeff has walked alongside me, grieved with me, and understands my deep pain as only a father could.
You see after we lost Zechariah, Jeff and I attended the “Grief Share” class at our church. It was a wonderful and challenging class. I am not here to knock “Grief Share” in any way. But, we often left feeling alone. Grief share taught us the stages of grief, it taught us the fundamentals about how we would grieve differently, and it was helpful to sit with others and share. But, we still felt alone and like something was missing.
When the doctor told us that Zechariah’s heart had stopped beating, we were given two options. Because we were so far along, we could either do a late term abortion, or we could be induced and deliver him. When they told me that the abortion would break up his body, and we wouldn’t be able to see him, I knew I couldn’t go through with it. We chose to be induced, deliver him, and hold him.
The hardest thing to reconcile was that our son who we loved so much, who we prayed for with all of our hearts, would never take a breath, never open his eyes, never…..
So we’d leave Grief share after hearing others talk about their memories and we would feel cheated. Because we were never able to have memories with him. I feel cheated out of rocking my son to sleep, watching his first steps, watching him grow, watching him chase after his brothers. I am angry that those memories were stolen from me. I wanted to have memories with my son.
I felt alone….until October when we attended the Hope Mommy Gala. For the first time in 3 years I didn’t feel alone. Women and men all gathered together…mommy’s and daddy’s all together to remember our sweet babies in Heaven. All of us with the hope of seeing them again fully restored in Heaven one day. The very next day, October 29 was Zechariah’s 3 year Heaven Day. Three years closer to seeing him running towards me in Heaven. Three years closer to holding him, and wrapping my arms around him. October 29th was the darkest day of my life, but also the sweetest. I never felt so far from the Lord, yet so close to Him. I never felt so incredibly broken before, yet so full of peace. So hard to describe these two intense feelings that battle each other. Zechariah has forever changed me as a person, mama, wife, believer.
So….I’ve felt alone. I’ve felt far from the Lord. I’ve been questioning and examining all that I always believed so strongly in. I’ve fought hard for my marriage, as it is so easy to blame each other for the little things when we are both struggling with the big things. I’ve needed to be seen. I’ve needed to feel community who understand.
So…at the urging of my husband I signed up for this retreat. I am putting myself out there. I am nervous and excited. I am ready to be with momma’s who know, who understand, who await the day that their babies run to them open armed. I am ready to continue in the healing process. I am ready to let more light into the darkness. I am ready to process more. I am ready…. and I can’t wait to tell you all about it.
Words can’t describe how thankful we are for each of you. Whether it is reading our Blog and sending love and encouragement, praying for us, praying for the families who receive boxes, or financially partnering with us during the month of October each year as we honor our son by loving on others.
This year we raised enough funds for 25 Hope Boxes. We are going to continue our ministry in California, sending boxes to our original hospitals, as well as start sending boxes to Colorado where my sister-in-law is a nurse in the pediatric unit.
Tomorrow we are sending out two boxes for specific families. Many times, we send out boxes and we don’t know who will receive them, but when we have names to go with the boxes, it is a different dynamic. In addition to this I’ve had the unique pleasure and blessing of emailing with another mama who recently lost her daughter and received one of our boxes. Every time I write to her, I feel inadequate, and pray that I allow the Lord to give me the words to write. This season I am especially praying for her and these two other families. What a blessing that we can pray for them by name.
I always want to be honest when I write these blogs, as this is a place for Jeff and I to pour out our hearts, be honest with how we are doing, share our grieving, and hopefully be a place where others find the love and peace of God through pain.
Tonight we have two very excited boys as we start decorating our home for Christmas. But tonight, we feel a missing piece of our family deeply. That Zechariah size hole in our heart is a bit bigger tonight and this season. Tonight is a night of joy, but it is also a night of deep grief for Jeff and I. Tonight as we started decorating the tree I handed Jeff the three ornaments that always go on the tree first. The three ornaments containing our boys baby hats, baby bracelets, and other trinkets from the hospital. Tonight it hit us hard, the realization that always comes, three births, three babies to hold, but only two that we get to love on here on earth. We cried, we talked, we grieved our baby boy.
Christmas seems to be when the grief hits the hardest for us. But it’s also when we have our greatest joys. Watching our two boys get excited over all the lights, hearing our oldest tell us about Jesus’ birth, and spending extra time with those closest to us. It’s when we feel Christ putting His big arms around us, grieving and crying with us, holding us, and loving us so deeply and giving us a peace that only He can give. So as we continue to grieve and miss our baby boy so deeply this season, we are humbled by God’s grace as He continues to lavish His love and peace upon us.
We continue to pray deeply for those families who will be grieving this season. Those whose arms feel a bit empty, and are missing a piece of their hearts and home. We pray that wherever they are on this journey, that they allow the arms of God to hold onto them, to cry with them, and to share with them His peace and love this season.
Where was God when my baby’s heart stopped beating?
Where was He when my wife and I sat on the hospital bed cradling our son’s body?
These are tough questions that I’ve battled with off and on over the past three years. Sometimes, I’m sure and confident in the reality that He was there walking us through the tragedy we were suffering – and that’s what I tell every father in every card I write.
“He is there, He feels your pain.”
Overall, I believe that but I do have my days and moments of doubt. The day that the doctor said there is no heartbeat, I kept my composure in the office and on the way home, but, I was the one who pushed to go into the hospital Labor and Delivery team to try and prove the doctors wrong.
They confirmed that there was no heartbeat.
Zechariah was gone before he was here. And where was God?
Brianna had been worried at the gender screening appointment we went to, but I was confident that he was fine and God was always there and caring for our baby boy.
I’ve been listening to the book The Shack and yesterday the author confronted his character with Jesus and let him ask where God or Jesus was when his daughter was taken. Jesus said He was right there with her the whole time. In that time, she was more worried about her family than what might happen to her (in that way only a kid can.)
It’s hard to believe and hard to fathom how God or Jesus can sit by us through tragedy, but they do. As I watched my son be birthed – I had a conflicting and confusing sense of joy. Here I was, watching my lifeless son coming into the world, the most tragic time of my life, and I was joyous and struggling not to smile.
I didn’t care about whether or not he had a heartbeat – I was overjoyed to have the opportunity to hold my son! That kind of joy can only come from the comfort and solace of the Lord. Of Jesus being beside you in the room and turning heartbreak in to joy.
Looking back, I wish I could have been more present. I wish I would have taken more time to hold, and look upon, and talk and sing to him. I was too worried about his fragile little body to fully capture our time together. Even so, I sit here smiling and crying in remembrance of it all.
I don’t know what it was like for Zechariah, but I can only imagine it being peaceful. Being surrounded by mommy, listening to her heartbeat, and saying goodbye. With Jesus there in his heart as it stopped.
Now I know many of your are undoubtedly struggling with the concept of a good God sitting there and letting a tragedy like this or any other happen.
I DO NOT HAVE THE ANSWER FOR YOU. Please do not send me hate mail – send it to God; He is big and strong enough to deal with it.
Like the book, I believe this is a part of God’s love and our sin – our selfish desire for personal control.
In counseling I learned the technique to go to a vivid happy place and then imagine Jesus there with you. I’ve been able to take that image and apply it to so many other occasions and am able to look back and see Him there in the moment with us.
So where is God? He’s everywhere at every moment good and bad, bringing joy, peace, and rest.
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
If you are hurting, I might recommend The Shack to you. Do not endeavor into this book lightly though – it can be gut wrenching at many different times and in many different ways. You might only spend time reading through Mackenzie’s time at the shack and the interaction with God – that has been very powerful for me.
Remember, it is one man’s interpretation. It may or may not have been divinely inspired. It may or may not help you in your pain. However you react – react towards God. Ask Him for guidance.
There’s no wrong way to do it There’s no bad time to start It don’t have to sound pretty Just tell Him what’s on your heart ‘Cause it’s not a religion ‘Cause it’s more like a friendship Just talk to your Father Like you are his kid
Just start talking to Jesus Just start talking to Jesus You can talk to Jesus Oh, whenever you like
At church on Sunday morning a familiar song was played. This song has never really brought forth much emotion from me. Don’t get me wrong, these past few years, worship has been hard. I find myself crying 90% of the Sundays. Songs, lyrics, hit me like never before, and I find myself with tears streaming down my face. But “Oceans” has never hit me, not until Sunday.
As the song played Sunday morning, I tried to sing, but instead all I could do was put my hands at my sides, palms upward, tears streaming down my face, and literally cry out to the Lord. Throughout the song my mind started playing a video, snap shots of the past few years, it was like a movie playing in my head while the lyrics were being sung around me. I didn’t want to watch this movie, I didn’t want to remember the specifics, but it wouldn’t stop playing, as hard as I tried to shut it out.
Being at the appointment hearing those awful words “I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat”
Walking through the halls, stoic, getting in my car and vomiting
Collapsing in my father’s arms as we told them the news
Telling our 2.5 year old son, his brother went to Heaven
Not wanting to believe the news, so frantically trying to find the heartbeat all night with Jeff
Going to the hospital the next morning, where they confirmed the news, as the nurse held me as I cried
Afraid to tell people, but knowing I needed to
Flowers – So many flowers – so much anger every time I got another flower delivery
Being induced, all the pain, pushing, silence, and holding our beautiful son for hours afterwards
Taking all the pictures, hand prints, foot prints, kissing his sweet face over and over again, afraid to let go, afraid I wouldn’t remember his face – silly thinking of it now, that face is etched in my mind and soul forever
My milk coming in, sobbing in the shower as I tried to hand pump to relieve the pain – feeling like a cruel joke was played on me – milk, but no child to feed
Watching my husband try to be strong, as he often sat there with no words, and a tear streaked face
Handing Zechariah to my mom and dad to hold
Placing him in his casket and shutting the lid
riding in the elevator with his casket and the guards – saying goodbye to him one last time and walking out of the hospital without our son
listening as my husband called the mortuary, picking up his ashes, planning his memorial service
Being told that because he was 2 days shy of 20 weeks, he wasn’t considered a human – just a fetus
Months and even years of watching my son navigate his own grief and trying to answer all his questions – wondering why his brother is in Heaven, but he is on earth, why does mommy and daddy cry, why is Ezra alive – but Zechariah dead, “mommy are you going to die and go to Heaven”, “mommy, I want to see my brother, I want to go to Heaven with him”, “mommy, please don’t leave me, I don’t want you to die”. questions and fears a 5 year old shouldn’t have to navigate through
Months and years of questioning my own faith, one that shattered the night I held my son
Feeling guilty that I couldn’t protect him from the safest place on earth, and hating myself for that, and if I’m being completely honest, being so incredibly angry with God because of it
Feeling guilty that my body was able to carry my youngest child, despite all the fears from the doctors, but couldn’t keep Zechariah safe
Anger from having to deal with so much fear, when being pregnant again should have been a happy time
The pain of always wanting to have more children, but being told my body can’t handle anymore
Anger and wondering how I can forgive the doctor who refused to listen to my concerns, put them off, and wondering if it would have made a difference
Being deathly afraid that one of my other children is going to die, because now I know and understand how real that feeling and possibility is
As much as I tried to shut the pictures out, they kept coming. You see, I’m still angry, and understanding that I need to forgive not only the doctor, but myself as well. I’m working on trusting in the goodness of God. I’m working on loving myself despite the guilt. I’m learning that there was absolutely nothing I could do to save him. I’m learning that my heart will always feel conflicted, and that is okay. I’m learning church might always be hard for me, but I have to keep going, I have to keep trusting, I have to keep learning, I have to keep looking at the Cross and at the beautiful face of Jesus.
I have to keep that picture of my son fully healed, fully loved, fully full of life running through the fields of Heaven in my heart.
I have to keep loving on other mamas. I have to keep writing notes, even though my heart breaks with each one. I have to keep making boxes and I have to keep delivering them. This isn’t a ministry that I want to be apart of, it isn’t something that feels good. It hurts, it breaks me, I see my husband with tears and a shaking hand as he writes, but it is also so good. In our darkest moment, we knew we were not alone, we knew Jesus was in that hospital room. As we were holding our son’s physical body, we knew that Jesus was sitting right beside us holding a fully healed and restored Zechariah in His arms. I don’t know how other families are able to get through that without that knowledge and truth. I pray that they feel the love of Christ, they feel His presence, and that they cling to Him.
I encourage you to read through the lyrics of Oceans and listen to it in its entirety. The link is below. I encourage you to pray for families who are grieving. I ask that you pray for us, especially as we are coming up on Zechariah’s 3 year Heaven day.
“Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)”
You call me out upon the waters The great unknown where feet may fail And there I find You in the mystery In oceans deep My faith will stand
And I will call upon Your name And keep my eyes above the waves When oceans rise My soul will rest in Your embrace For I am Yours and You are mine
Your grace abounds in deepest waters Your sovereign hand Will be my guide Where feet may fail And fear surrounds me You’ve never failed And You won’t start now
So I will call upon Your name And keep my eyes above the waves When oceans rise My soul will rest in Your embrace For I am Yours and You are mine And You are mine
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders Let me walk upon the waters Wherever You would call me Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander And my faith will be made stronger In the presence of my Saviour
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders Let me walk upon the waters Wherever You would call me Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander And my faith will be made stronger In the presence of my Saviour
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders Let me walk upon the waters Wherever You would call me Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander And my faith will be made stronger In the presence of my Saviour
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders Let me walk upon the waters Wherever You would call me Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander And my faith will be made stronger In the presence of my Saviour
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders Let me walk upon the waters Wherever You would call me Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander And my faith will be made stronger In the presence of my Saviour
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders Let me walk upon the waters Wherever You would call me Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander And my faith will be made stronger In the presence of my Saviour
Oh, Jesus, You’re my God!
I will call upon Your name Keep my eyes above the waves My soul will rest in Your embrace I am Yours and You are mine
Finding Peace after the Storm 