Alexa’s Story of Hope

On November 21, 2017, I was 23 weeks pregnant, and we were at my OB’s office to have a repeat ultrasound done. At our 19 week ultrasound, Garrett was flipped with his spine up, so the ultrasound tech couldn’t visualize his heart to confirm everything had formed correctly. Everything else had looked good, and there had been no complications up to this point, so we were not at all prepared for what we were about to find out.

As I laid on the table, the tech scanned over my belly with no words and no emotions. As he finished, he handed me a towel to clean off the gel, still without words. Finally, as we were about to walk out of the room, he handed me a paper and said, “Your doctor will tell you everything about this baby.” My heart sank; I knew something was wrong.

We headed back to the waiting room to wait for my nurse to come get me. The five minutes we sat there felt like an eternity. I kept telling my husband that I knew something was wrong. He tried to be encouraging and told me not to worry, but there’s just no denying that gut feeling. Finally, the nurse called my name, and we headed back to a room. It didn’t take long before my doctor came in and cut right to the news. There was something abnormal with Garrett’s heart, and there was fluid that had started accumulating around it. She couldn’t confirm exactly what was wrong, but she wanted me to see a Maternal Fetal Medicine specialist the next day.

As we left the office, there were so many thoughts, questions, and fears, but we tried to stay positive and talked through ways to prepare ourselves for what was ahead. At that point, we thought we just needed to make it through pregnancy and possibly heart surgery, and would deal with the rest as it came. We were so overwhelmed with all of the uncertainty, but even more overwhelming was the extreme peace we had knowing that God was going to take care of us.

On November 22 we sat in an empty waiting room at Children’s Medical Center. The office wasn’t supposed to open until 1pm, but they had opened two hours early just to work us in and give us time there privately. The staff was amazing as they walked me through what they were going to do step by step.

The first step was to get some more scans. The ultrasound tech came in to get Garrett’s measurements and some pictures. Then, the specialist came in to walk us through everything they were seeing and explain the complications of his heart. She showed us the areas where fluid was accumulating that shouldn’t be there, around his head, his heart, and his abdomen (called Hydrops Fetalis). There were so many things that just weren’t right; his heart was super enlarged, his left ventricle really small, abnormal outflow tracts, missing areas where blood flow should be, abnormal positioning, the list went on and on.

She couldn’t confirm a specific diagnosis because there were so many imperfections, but her best guess was a very complex version of Transposition of the Great Vessels. When she finally finished with the devastating list of things for Garrett, I was prepared to start discussing our next steps and what we were going to do to fix this. But the words that came out of her mouth next were not anything that I expected. She placed her hand on my leg and said in the gentlest voice, “Alexa, I don’t think he is going to be with us much longer.”

Those words, that moment, are etched in my mind for eternity. That heartbreak, devastation, and complete and utter brokenness—I can’t even begin to describe it. In that exam room I felt my whole world crumbling, but as I was falling apart, I felt the arms of my husband wrap around me, and I heard a gentle whisper promise, “You are going to be okay.”

Through the physical embrace of my husband, I was reminded that we will always be held. It was the first of many moments through our journey where complete brokenness and unwavering peace mingled together as a painfully beautiful reminder that we aren’t exempt from hardship in this life, but our hope is in the One who has overcome the world, who makes beauty out of ashes, and who brings good out of the most hopeless and heartbreaking situations.

As long as I remained healthy, we chose to love our sweet boy the best that we knew how with the time we had left. We planned to have weekly visits to listen for his heartbeat and check on me. Termination was never a thought or an option in our minds, and I’m so thankful for a doctor who knew and believed in the gift we had been given through Garrett and didn’t even bring that option to the table.

The weeks that followed were hard, even miserable at times. I so wanted to embrace and cherish the time we had left, but I struggled with the constant thought that each day could be our last. It haunted me, and there were many days that grief consumed the joy I so longed to have. I worried that he was in pain or somehow hurting, and I just wanted his suffering to be over. I longed for heaven for my sweet boy. I always believed that healing would come for him, and selfishly I prayed and begged for that to happen this side of heaven, but somehow, in my heart I knew that was not what God had planned for him.

When we originally received Garrett’s diagnosis, our doctor had voiced that she didn’t think he would live for another two weeks. But our little fighter was still going strong three and a half weeks later, so we decided to do another ultrasound. I had read that hydrops can sometimes improve, so as we headed to the specialist’s office that Friday in December, I was hopeful, yet nervous, for what we would see.

As the ultrasound tech began scanning, it was obviously much different than what we had seen just three weeks before, but not the difference this momma’s heart was so longing for. The fluid was significantly worse. There was now swelling in his face, arms, and legs, and the fluid around his abdomen and head was causing him to measure ten weeks bigger than he actually was. It was the hardest thing to see, and it was painfully obvious that the end of our time with our Garrett was very close.

When we left the office that day, part of me regretted seeing him again; it was painful to see him like that. But another part of me was very thankful we got to see him alive one last time. It helped prepare me for how he may look at delivery, but it also somehow gave me more peace knowing he would soon be healed in the arms of our Savior. More than ever, I knew without a doubt that heaven was the best place for him, and I remember whispering to Garrett that day, “It’s okay sweet boy, you can go home.”

On December 18, I knew in my heart that the time was very close. I hadn’t felt Garrett move in over 36 hours, so I spent the day with the doppler attached to my stomach. The decelerations became longer and more frequent throughout the day. I was so ready for him to be home, and I physically and emotionally couldn’t handle carrying him much longer. I cherished the short, sweet time we had with him, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever been asked to do. I’d do it again in a heartbeat though, without question and without hesitation.

The last time I heard Garrett’s heart beat was at 6:30 that evening. My husband had just come home, so we sat down to have dinner and then put our son down for the night. I got the doppler again to check on our sweet boy and his heartbeat was gone. Garrett was finally healed and whole in the arms of Jesus, and I was consumed with so much peace knowing that. I held onto that feeling as I prepared myself for what was next—going through labor and delivering a baby boy that I wouldn’t be able to bring home.

We headed to the hospital and got checked in. My nurse came in, went over my history, and attempted to find heart tones on the external monitor. It wasn’t a surprise when all that was there was silence. My OB came in next with the ultrasound machine. Her presence there brought so much peace and understanding. She had also lost a little boy due to congenital anomalies and had been such a rock for us as we walked through each stage of this journey.

She sat next to me on the bed, placed the ultrasound wand on my belly, and there was our boy on the screen—so still, so calm, so peaceful. My doctor looked at me with empathetic tears in her eyes and said, “He’s gone home.” Those were the most perfect words to hear in that moment. As much as I longed for his home to be with me, in my arms, how could I not rejoice in the fact that Garrett was forever in heaven?

At 5:32am on December 20, Garrett Regan Hursh was born straight into the arms of his Savior. We had a beautiful day holding and loving our sweet boy, and I cherish every second I got to admire his perfectly imperfect body. We had many visitors who got to love on him as well, and it meant so much to me every time someone asked to hold him. I don’t know why that was so important to me, but it made me feel so loved that they treated him just as they would have if he was alive.

I thought the hardest part was over. I had endured the joyous agony of carrying Garrett until his last heartbeat. I had labored, delivered, and held my beautiful, lifeless child. But I had let myself forget the fact that we would have to say goodbye. I had denied what was now my reality—that we would be giving Garrett back to the Lord much sooner than a mother and father should ever have to. Saying goodbye and watching the funeral home director leave with the woven basket in hand was excruciating. Our time with Garrett here on Earth was complete, and I felt an emptiness inside—an emptiness that is still there to this day. But because of the redeeming love of God, it’s not as big as it once was. With time, healing, and the surprise of our daughter born just ten months later, we don’t live just as if we have lost something. We live knowing that what Garrett gained is so much more than what we have lost. God is forever faithful to His promises, and we know that we will see Garrett again one day.

It still brings me awe and wonder as I look back at 2017 and see how God wove everything together just as we needed. He specifically placed each person at the exact place and in the exact moment we would need them most. He was faithful to provide, protect, and prepare us every step of the way. There are still questions and things I don’t understand, but I am certain that we serve a good, good Father who loves us more than we will ever imagine, and who truly works all things for good. My constant prayer is that God would use Garrett’s life in a powerful way, and that we would be good stewards of sharing his story with others. Yes, 2017 was the hardest year, but it was also the best year, because I have never felt the love and closeness of Jesus in such a tangible way before.

Alexa resides with her husband, Mike in Texas. She is Mommy to Beckett and Evelyn, and Hope Mommy to Garrett. She loves her job as a nurse where she gets to witness the miracle of life daily and also be there for families going through loss. She enjoys being active, coffee shops, and living in community with her couples small group.

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.