Laura’s Story

What Loss Looks Like, 8 Years Later

I write this on the eve of my firstborn’s thirteenth birthday. Honest truth? My daughter’s was an easy pregnancy. I glowed from day one, not having much nausea, all the way through to the end when my overdue pregnant self waddled into a room, happy and content, dreaming of my baby. Aside from her necessary induction ten days after her due date, my pregnancy and delivery were textbook. What a blessing. One that I took for granted, as most do when they haven’t been touched with loss.

Her younger brother’s story, while textbook in the pregnancy stages, didn’t conclude with a happy ending. Funny how some eight years later, I can close my eyes and review details that weren’t as sharp to me as I was living in them. The “grief walk” is a unique thing. I started my grief walk in 2008 when my family experienced a huge shock, a heartbreaking loss. However, with this heartbreak, I simultaneously experienced a peace that passes all understanding and the sustaining grace needed to keep going–both gifts from God alone, acknowledging that while He takes away, He also gives. And gives.

Here’s (part of) my Nathan’s story…

Eight years ago, on a Thursday in May, I had my 36 week pregnancy check-up to measure progress on the little one inside of me. S/he was measuring fine and all appeared right on-track. I had a month to finalize his/her coming and things were humming right along. My husband and I were still trying to figure out a boy name and a girl name, as we hadn’t found out what this little one was (neither had we done that with our first–in my opinion, the most fun surprise ever).

Memorial Day weekend was upon us and we had a few things to do around the yard to get ready for a picnic that weekend. My husband was off on that Friday, so we worked outside all day. Nothing too strenuous, just normal weeding-/ gardening-type things on my end. By the end of the day I realized that I hadn’t felt the baby move much that day. No problem, s/he’s just sleeping, I thought. I figured I’d feel baby when I went to bed, as s/he had a habit, as most little ones do, of wiggling when momma stops moving. Clearly zonked, I was out within minutes of my head hitting the pillow.

I awoke the next morning (Saturday, the 24th), ate breakfast and called the doctor’s office… I still hadn’t felt the baby move and wanted some reassurance. The nurse on call had me drink a soda and count kicks for an hour. Hyper-focused on every little, possible movement, I thought I felt baby move once. Sigh… hindsight’s 20/20, as I still shake my head at how naive I was at that moment in time. I felt no urgency on my end, although the nurse told me to go to the hospital to get monitored. My husband was finishing an oil change on the car that he was doing himself and I called around to find someone to watch my then four-year-old daughter. Finally, all ready to go and (not even having thrown an overnight bag in the car, as I figured this would be quick) we headed to the hospital.

After spending a ridiculous amount of time with Admissions (even though I had already pre-registered and my ob-gyn supposedly told them we were on the way. Anyway, I digress…), we were ushered into the triage area of the delivery floor. As I was getting settled, Admissions called and requested that my husband come back down for a few more questions (?!). At that point the nurse put the doppler on my belly to monitor baby’s heartbeat. She couldn’t find it.

“Don’t worry,” she tried to reassure me, “I’ll page the doctor on call to do an ultrasound.”

Choking back a hundred unanswerable questions, I said, “ok,” and asked for my husband to be sent back up to me as soon as possible. He arrived, as did the doctor with an ultrasound machine.

About two minutes later, we heard the words, “I’m sorry. There is no heartbeat.”

What followed was this beautiful, sorrowful intertwining of earthly despair and heavenly hope. During the next eleven hours (of labor), my hospital room was flooded with church family, desperate to extend their love and support to my family, although they were as shocked as we were over this loss. A little after 10pm, a perfectly-formed 5 pound, 2 ounce baby boy entered this world, lifeless. We named him Nathaniel, or Nathan for short. Gift of God.

My son himself wasn’t the only gift we received that night. What was also “gifted” to me that weekend was a glimpse of the limitless power of God. Sound backwards? I mean, His power could have been put to use by saving my baby boy’s life. But instead, His power was perfect in my weakness. Simply put, He carried me. He gave me words of comfort to extend to those who came into my room during the labor of my stillborn child, when they themselves were so torn they had none for me. He filled the room with His presence so tangibly, He was almost touchable. He sustained me physically through a delivery with no other complications. He revealed Himself through the love of family and friends caring for our needs the following days and weeks. He carried me through returning dozens of unused diapers to Walmart when I had to tearfully tell Nathan’s story because the associate’s manager told her not to take them back (and she issued the refund anyway). God’s power is even present today as I hug my daughter and my subsequent son in my arms and talk about their brother in heaven.

Each year, we remember Nathan with a breakfast quiche for dinner (I craved eggs during his pregnancy) and a birthday cake to celebrate the delicate, beautiful miracle of life. I don’t think that anyone who has ever experienced a loss gets off the path of grief, but I do think that the path gets wider; it’s when we let others in and acknowledge the continued power and sovereignty of God that we find it’s not so narrow and overwhelming.

So did I (ever) receive any answers as to “why?” No. Do I need them? No. Not really. There have been twists and turns in this journey of grief, but God has been so faithful to be with me through them all. The “why”s have all been overshadowed by the “what He has done”s.

– Laura Hart

Hope Mom to Nathan

 

We would be honored to share your story as a Hope Mom on our blog! Every Saturday we feature a Hope Mom’s story in order to showcase God’s faithfulness even in the midst of such deep sorrow. If you would like to have your story shared on our blog for this purpose, learn more and submit here:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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