Sunday, August 23, 2015

The loss of a baby

          I delivered our sweet baby girl, Adelyne Cecelia, on 21 August.  During a routine OB visit, we discovered that her little heart had stopped beating.  Her precious spirit was called to be with Jesus. 

Life felt like it had come to a stop on Friday.  The world was moving quickly around me, but I felt such a heavy veil of pain covering my face.  My 4 year old cried in a heap on the floor, begging me to at least bring home a picture of her sister.  Heavy.  Joseph and I had to check into labor and delivery, walk down the halls as we heard newborn babies coming into the world, and get into a hospital bed to prepare for labor.  I was numb.  Labor took seven hours . . .and in that quiet time we cried, prayed, clung to each other, and prepared.  Halfway through the evening, a beautiful bouquet of flowers was brought in by a nurse.  The card was full of beautiful words, personal in nature, along with Psalm 34:18 . . "The Lord is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit".  It was sent by an organization called "Reagan's Garden".  A mom here in Charlotte, who lost her daughter, Reagan, in utero at the same exact gestation (21 1/2 weeks), chose to take her pain and suffering and turn it into something beautiful.  She has flowers delivered to families who are going through the same difficult loss, so that they have something "tangible" and beautiful to bring home.  I was so touched, and brought to tears.  Again, on the edge of darkness, Gods light sees us through.  He takes our pain and heavy burdens, and leads us to make light of them.  To cling to Him, but to reflect from Him.  To humble ourselves, and turn our pain into goodness, to help others.  

I will never underestimate the pain a mother feels at the loss of a child . . .even before they were due to enter the world.  When we received Luke's diagnoses of DS, many were apologizing to us, as if it were a tragedy.  We never viewed his life or diagnosis as a tragedy.  And pure joy and purpose have proven themselves by his very existence here.  In contrast, not being able to bring our little Adelyne home was the most difficult thing we've experienced.  True loss.   She so resembled her older siblings, and we all envisioned her in our family, chasing her brothers and sisters around.  I imagined her being spicy, as her 4 year sister has proven to be. Her crib was carefully set up and waiting for her, and our holiday plans were made around the timing of her due date.  But her life was not meant to be on this earth.   And I know that she's shouting down from heaven "I'm okay mommy!  I will meet you some day!". 

For now, we move forward.  I know it will get easier with time, though never completely heal.  I know that we will make good of this, and some day, be reunited in a beautiful place.  I love you sweet Adelyne.