Ashlee’s Story

It was the beginning of my fourteenth week of pregnancy when I went in for a routine ultrasound and prenatal appointment. I had been eagerly looking forward to this day for many weeks.  My husband decided last minute to stay home with our boys while I drove off with our three-year-old daughter to finally see this smallest addition to our family.

On our way to the appointment, my daughter squealed, “Mommy! I am so excited to see our baby!” As those words left her little mouth, a giant pit formed in my stomach, and suddenly I felt all sorts of anxious. Something just didn’t seem right anymore. I tried to shake off that feeling, reminding myself that I was fourteen weeks along and had never experienced any symptoms of a possible problem. Surely we were in the clear! Still, I spent the entire drive fighting back nervous tears and asking God to fill my anxious heart with His perfect peace.

We arrived at the doctor’s office and were almost immediately called back for my ultrasound. As the first glimpse of our little one appeared on the monitor, my mommy heart knew that something was not right. He was not as big as I had expected for a baby who had completed its first trimester of development.  And he was completely still.

After a few moments of searching our ultrasonographer confirmed what I already knew to be true.  His heart was not beating…and mine was aching. I looked over at my daughter, who was sitting in the chair next to me.  She was beaming.  Completely unaware of what the ultrasonographer had said, she was watching the screen.  She knew she was looking at her baby and she could not have been more proud!  A pit formed in my stomach for the second time that morning as I called her over to sit on my lap and explained to her that our baby’s heart was not working, and that God had decided to take the baby to be with Him in Heaven.

Tears formed in her tender eyes as she said, “Oh, I am so sad that our baby’s heart is not working, because we will really miss our baby.” Then she paused, cupped my chin with her sweet hands and said thoughtfully, “But aren’t you glad that God has let me be with you for so many days?” What a precious glimpse of God’s grace through the eyes of that wonderfully dear girl.  I didn’t think I would ever be able to stop hugging her.

I was moved into another room to wait to meet with other nurses and doctors who would tell me what to expect in the coming days and weeks.  As I sat in the silence waiting for the first nurse to arrive, and trying to find the words to tell my husband what had happened, I could hear from the room next to mine the sound that I had been longing to hear just a few minutes before… the sound of a tiny heart beating from inside its mother’s womb. But it was not the heart of my little one.  My eyes filled with tears.  Oh, how I wanted him here with me!

The midwife came in, tears in her own eyes, as she explained what my options were. I could either schedule a D&C to have the pregnancy removed right away, or I could wait for my body to recognize our loss and miscarry naturally. My heart felt like it was being twisted up tight as I thought about having our sweet baby removed from my body through surgery. I was sure I was going to get sick right there in the exam room at the thought. Choking back that nauseous feeling, I told her I would wait and allow my body to miscarry on its own.

Before my appointment was complete I asked my midwife for our ultrasound picture.  Everyone was surprised by my request.  I guess they figured that I would want to put this day behind me.  But, even though our little one’s life on earth was so short, God gave him to us.  He chose to add him to our family.  And we will never be able to put him behind us, because every day we are looking ahead to the day that we will see him again in Heaven.  Our best days together are yet to come.

When I finally left the doctors’ office several hours after I had anticipated being there, I wept.  All the way home I wept.  And when I walked in the house and sat down on the couch next to my husband, we both wept together.  My body felt raw and numb as I thought of carrying the lifeless body of our little one inside my own.  I wondered if that was why I had felt off for the past few weeks…because some part of me knew that his life had been taken from this earth. 

We decided to name our sweet boy, Simeon.  His name means, “The Lord has heard.” It is a word that was used in response to a cry for help. Our hearts had been constantly crying to God for help as we journeyed through the pain of loss, and we were filled with a full assurance that God had heard us. Day after day, He continually and graciously supplied all that we needed to continue to trust in Him, His goodness, and His plan for our lives. He indeed was our Peace.

During the days and weeks that followed, every time I felt a slight flutter inside of me I would picture him moving around, stretching those ever growing limbs…only to remember that he was no longer growing, breathing, living.  And Heaven seemed so far away. The first Sunday after finding out we had lost our baby, I felt like everyone could see right through me, knowing that I was no longer carrying life, but death. I felt dirty, broken, and exposed. Every day I would pray, “Father God, please teach me how to honor you through this loss, because I can’t do this without You!”

Four weeks passed, and there were still no signs that my body was willing to let go of this pregnancy. Because the risk of infection was now much greater, the doctor strongly recommended that I have the D&C done. At this point, even if my body naturally miscarried, there was still a good chance that it would not be able to get rid of all of the tissue which would require that I have it surgically removed anyway.

I wept all day. Yet another layer of loss was uncovered as I realized that I was not going to labor this sweet baby out of my womb. I was angry at my body. Why wouldn’t it respond to this loss of life? Why couldn’t it let go?

For the next few days I prayed and prayed and prayed. My heart felt so unsettled at the idea of going into surgery to end our pregnancy. Even though our little one was already with the Lord, I hated the thought it his little body being torn from mine. This wasn’t the way I had wanted it to end.

But God.

Oh how those two words have transformed our loss. But God was faithful. But God surrounded us with caring hearts and serving hands. But God filled my aching heart with a peace beyond measure. But God was always there – every moment – through it all.

The day of my surgery arrived, and although I had not slept a minute the night before, I was covered with a calm that can only come with the Father’s presence. I have never felt His presence so fully. I literally felt like I did not take a single step all day. I was being carried by The One who had endured the death of His own precious Son.

Surgery did not go as planned either. Although I was not aware of any of that until I woke up from the anesthesia. It took the doctor three times the usual amount to complete the procedure. I lost a significant amount of blood and nearly had to have a transfusion. But even in those details, God was sovereign. It would take my body several months to regain the blood volume lost during surgery, but through the days and weeks of dizziness and weakness that resulted, I was constantly reminded of how God’s strength is most evident in the moments of my greatest weakness. He was my strength when I could not be strong on my own.

Six months after we found out that Simeon had gone to be with the Lord, I started feeling nauseous and it seemed like overnight my stomach had tripled in size. I wasn’t surprised when the pregnancy test showed positive.  I was such a mixture of excitement and anxiety. We were so grateful to once again be adding to our family, but the reality of loss was still so close to our hearts that I was constantly aware of the possibility that we would miscarry again.

When I went in to see the doctor for my first appointment at eight weeks I was knotted up with nerves. The last time I had gone in for an ultrasound was when we were told that Simeon’s heart was no longer beating. I had been praying all morning that God would help me trust in Him, regardless of what was ahead.

As soon as our newest little one was picked up by the sonograph I heard the technician say, “There is the baby. And there is baby’s heartbeat.” I’m sure the slow exhale that followed those wonderful words was the first normal breath that I had taken all day. I could feel tension leaving my body as I praised God through tears for this gift of life before us.

The weeks that followed were filled with dreaming about our future. I frequently took out the ultrasound photo of the baby and just stared at the words “fetal heart rate.” I was overwhelmed with gratitude every time I thought about the life God had chosen to place inside of me.. I felt nauseous all day long week after week.  But as awful as I felt each day, I welcomed the constant reminder that new life was inside of me.

I prayed often that God would protect this little one and increase my trust in Him. But, I was convicted by how quickly I allowed worry to take root in my heart. I knew that no matter what God had in store for me I didn’t want to be consumed with worry and fear. Over the next few weeks I poured over Scripture and poured out my heart to the Lord as I bit by bit replaced the ache of worry with the steadfastness of His peace.

A few nights before our next appointment, as I was lying in bed, I felt our little one move around inside of me for the first… and last time.

When I went in for the appointment I held my breath as I saw the sonographer tense while she tried in vain to pick up the heartbeat. I felt a wave of dread wash over me as I realized that I was on this road again. This newest addition to our family would not grow up on earth. Here was another birthday we could never celebrate. Another hand that I would never hold on this side of eternity. The weight of pain was crushing and excruciating.

I drove home in tears. When I arrived home I sank into our couch and wept with my husband. As I put our kids down for naps, our oldest hugged me tight and through tears said, “Oh mommy, I am so sad that my sister baby will not be born to our family. I miss her with all my heart. Can we pick a name for her that means ‘My Lord is singing?’ I will always love her.”

My heart broke again.

Two weeks later I went in for a check up. My doctor said because of how far along I was and because my body did not respond at all to our previous miscarriage, it was unlikely that it would respond this time. And if my body did respond to our loss, the amount of blood I would lose would be so excessive it would be hard to tell when it might reach the point where it would require “life preserving surgery.” We decided that it would be best to schedule a D&C for the following week.

Two days before my surgery, I began having contractions and I realized that my body had indeed recognized the loss. It was sudden and scary and almost midnight. A dear friend came over to stay at our house so we could keep the kids asleep while Jesse and I drove to the hospital. By the time we got there I had lost so much blood I could hardly walk. They printed out a band for me in the ER and when asked to verify that my name and birth date were correct I was so light-headed I couldn’t read anything on it.

I was wheeled into a room where my blood was drawn in order to determine how much I had lost, and I was given an IV to replenish the fluid in my body. A short while later a doctor came in to discuss what course of action we should take. Within a few minutes I had delivered our little one. The nurse brought her over to me and asked if I wanted the opportunity to see her.

As I held our sweet baby in my hand I was in awe. She was so perfect. For a moment all I could think of was how masterful of a creator God is and how thankful I was that He had seen fit to bring her into our lives for those fourteen weeks. I didn’t think I would ever be able to stop stroking her cheek or counting those beautiful fingers and toes. And I knew that even though I would not be able to bring her home and watch her grow, I loved her completely.

It was one of the most devastating and yet treasured moments of my life.  My time with her couldn’t last forever, as I still had to go into surgery in order to stop the bleeding, but I know that cherished time of holding my baby in my hand is something I will never forget. I would never have chosen for the circumstances of our miscarriage to unfold as they did, but in every detail it was so clear that God was doing what was for our good and His glory.

We chose to name her Odelle. I had been searching for names with a meaning having something to do with singing to the Lord in order to honor our daughter’s precious and thoughtful request. In Hebrew, Odelle means “sing praise to the Lord.”

My husband and I have spent many evenings together missing our little ones and letting all of the real and raw and rough bits of our hearts pour out into each other’s arms.  Knowing that we are on this road together…and each step is bringing us closer to God and each other increases our hope. 

Hope in the God who desired to bring Simeon and Odelle into existence.
Hope in the God who saw fit to take them home before they had suffered in this world.
Hope in the God who chose for them to be in His presence, giving them the very best!

And my heart rejoices that right now, my sweet babies are enjoying that Psalm 16:11 fullness of joy as they live forever in the perfect presence of our Great God! I look forward to the day when I will wrap my arms around them for the first time! When I will see them face to face – full of life! When I will be able to tell them just how much we love them, and just how much they have changed our lives and touched our hearts! Someday we will join them in God’s glorious presence.  But until then, we will long for Heaven and treasure these little ones in our hearts while living each day on this side of eternity for the glory of our God of Hope!

Ashlee is the Editorial Coordinator for Hope Mommies. She and her husband, Jesse, have four children on earth and two little ones in Heaven. You can get to know her more by reading her blog, Beyond Undone.

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