Kayla’s Story

In February of 2017, our son Phoenix turned one. Within a month, we were pregnant with our second child. We were both surprised and excited. We hadn’t expected to become pregnant again so quickly when it had taken us around seven months the first time. 

We were on vacation when I took the test and found out, so upon arriving home, I called and asked to change my upcoming annual OBGYN appointment to a prenatal appointment. At first everything seemed normal, but at some point, I started to feel concerned that I hadn’t felt movement yet. I convinced myself that every baby is different, and that this one was just more chill than Phoenix had been. 

When the time came for the gender reveal appointment, we brought our families with us to the appointment, but to everyone’s disappointment, our doctor was unable to get the baby to move its legs so that he could get a view to determine if it was a boy or a girl. While he maintained his composure, we knew him well enough to know he was concerned. He scheduled us to come back for the full anatomy scan, and told us he was hoping the baby was more cooperative at that point. 

When the day came for the scan, the news got worse rather than better. Our doctor did our sonogram and then called another doctor in to see if he agreed with his concerns. We were informed that something appeared to be wrong with the way our baby’s bones were developing. They were much shorter than expected for his age, and his skull appeared thinner than normal. They told us they weren’t really sure what the problem was, but they were going to send us to a specialist. 

During the time leading up to the specialist visit, I prepared myself for “the worst,” which by the time of the appointment we had decided from our google research was most likely that we would have a child who was wheelchair bound, missing a portion of one or more of his limbs, or who had some form of dwarfism which would required a childhood full of surgeries. But, when the specialist came in after viewing the images taken by the sonogram tech, he informed us that was not what we were dealing with. He said our child had a lethal skeletal dysplasia. 

Those words took a few minutes to sink in. We were devastated. After that appointment, we went through several stages of grief. At first, we felt as if we had already lost our child before even getting a chance to truly have him. It was so frustrating when well-meaning people would tell us of someone they knew whose baby turned out just fine in spite of what doctors had told them during pregnancy. As much as we wished that could be our story, we were pretty sure it wouldn’t be. 

After a little while however, we went through a hopeful time period. Maybe God would send us that miracle we knew He was capable of. Maybe things didn’t have to end the way the doctors were saying. 

We made the decision to have our son in Plano where the hospital has a full NICU unit and our son could be given care that could potentially extend or save his life if things were less severe than we were being told. We weren’t ready to give up on him. I distinctly remember when one of the NICU doctors asked us during our visit why we felt this would turn our differently than the doctors were saying. My husband answered that we serve a God of miracles, and while he didn’t know if we were going to be receiving one, he still had hope. 

Through the weeks, God kept showing us that He was there, whether it was through the song that came on the radio when we got in the car or the people we came across who reached out a loving hand. One specific memory I will never forget came after our tour of the NICU. At the end of an emotional day, we decided to stop at one of our favorite restaurants on the way home. As we stood in line, a familiar song began to play on the radio. 

It’s Your breath in our lungs,
So we pour our praise;
We pour our praise

As much as I tried to hold back the tears, it was impossible. This was the song I had been leading my church congregation in for worship for the last few weeks, and now it had an even deeper meaning. Since we had been told Gideon’s lungs would not have room to develop in his overly crowded rib cage, God’s breath in our lungs had so much more significance. 

As I hurried through the line and found a seat away from the crowds, the manager, who had noticed my sudden uncontrollable tears, came over to apologize if the song had offended us in some way. We explained our situation, and he asked to pray with us. Shortly after that, one of the workers in the restaurant came around to see if anyone needed anything. She could see I had been crying and asked if everything was ok. We told her our story as well, and she proceeded to tell us that she understood our pain as she had lost twins. We had never realized until it was “our situation” how many more moms and dads around us had walked similar paths. 

The weeks went by, and we celebrated the time we had with our son. As more sonograms passed, our expectations of a miracle faded, but we came to a peace that God, the creator of the universe, was in control, and even if we didn’t receive one of the miracles we knew He alone could do, we would serve Him anyway. 

We decided to name our son Gideon since we knew that while he had an uphill battle ahead, God would be faithful. The last Sunday before Gideon’s birth, I decided to sing a special at our church. I chose the song “Control” by Tenth Avenue North; a song about how though God doesn’t need us, His desire and love for us frees us to release control of our lives to Him. As I sang those words, I wasn’t just singing them to the church, I was singing them to my Creator and my Savior. “I give you control.” 

Our due date was in January, but on November 6, 2017, I woke up around 10pm to the realization that my water had broken. Hurriedly, we called Plano only to receive very little help from the person on the other end of the line. At that moment, we decided to call our OBGYN instead. He answered the phone. He was at home, but he told us he would meet us at the ER, and when we arrived, he was waiting there with a wheelchair. 

In the hours that followed, we decided to stay there in that hospital, rather than go to Plano. It seemed that God had orchestrated this timing so that we would no longer have to struggle with making the choice of whether to put our son on a ventilator or not. And here, we were cared for. We were more than just patients, we were loved. 

Our son’s pediatrician came in at some point during the day and read Scripture and prayed with us. During that day, I told myself I would not cry, no matter how much I felt like it, because I didn’t want my baby to feel my sadness. I could cry later. When it was time to deliver our Gideon, our doctor was called, and a local photographer who volunteers for Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep was called as well. 

Our Gideon was delivered and handed straight to us to spend as much time with us as possible. At that moment, we gained an understanding of the “peace that surpasses all understanding.” I had always thought it was a weird expression, but now it made perfect sense. There was no sadness, no tears, only joy as well held our son. After almost an hour, the pediatrician informed us that he was no longer confined to earth—he had entered his eternal home. 

While the selfish part of us still wishes our Gideon was here with us now, we know that his life has touched many more people than we could ever imagine and that God will work this together for His glory. In the week after his birth and death, my husband, through strength that only God could provide, was able to speak at a youth event that he was already scheduled to speak at, where several students chose to give their lives to Christ. He was also able to preach at our son’s funeral. 

While there are days when I want to be selfish and wish my child was here with us, I am truly thankful for the blessing that God gave us through him. I am blessed to be his mother. And some day we will see him again, in paradise.

Kayla lives in a small town in Texas with her husband Benji and their son Phoenix. She and her husband work with the youth at their church and love being active in church and community events. They also enjoy traveling, playing tennis, and participating in lots of outings and activities as a family.

We would be honored to share your story as a Hope Mom on our blog. On Saturdays we feature Hope Moms’ stories 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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