Shelly’s Story

“My husband and I found out we were pregnant for the first time on Father’s Day.  We were a little shocked but mostly overjoyed. Perfect pregnancy. Perfect delivery. And we did it again about two years later. We had two little girls but I wanted another baby. My husband was content with two children and we did not try again so we were very shocked when we found out I was pregnant for a third time.

When we found out I was having a son, we just knew the Lord had plans better than our own. My husband is a football playing, hunting, fishing, sports loving kind of man so I just knew God wanted him to have a son.

We eagerly awaited our son’s arrival. The dresser drawers were filled with boy clothes and trucks and trains were waiting under the Christmas tree for his first Christmas.

I knew labor was starting so I hurried to finish our son’s quilt.

I woke up to use the restroom about 4am and noticed he wasn’t moving. It did seem a little strange since he was my most active baby. But it was the middle of the night and I knew that babies didn’t move as much at the end of the pregnancy. I went back to sleep, believing it might be one of my last nights to get a good night’s sleep. 

The next morning I did my usual early morning ritual. I got up and poured a big class of orange juice. I craved orange juice when pregnant but it made my son move around a lot when I drank it. But not that morning. I drank another class. Nothing.

I told my husband I was going by the doctor’s office to have them check me out after I dropped one daughter off at pre-school.  I took my 2 ½ year old daughter with me – never thinking the appointment would be anything other than routine.

The nurse tried to get a heartbeat. Nothing. She told me the machine hadn’t been working and went to get another one. She came back and told me they couldn’t find the other one and they would just do a sonogram. I lay on the table and turned my head to watch the screen. I saw my son’s heart. Nothing.

The nurse said, “I’m so sorry.” I started to cry. My toddler crawled up on the table and laid her head on my belly. Someone called my husband. Someone called my friend to come get my child. I called my mom. I cried. And cried.

I spent the rest of the day giving birth to my only son. A big 8lb. 3 oz. boy with red hair. Perfectly formed. Yet, still.

As I was in labor, I was being asked to pick a funeral home and a cemetery. Unreal. This is not the way it’s supposed to happen. A freak, rogue amniotic band that strangled the umbilical cord and took our son without warning.

Family came in from out of town. We tried to explain to our little girls who already loved their baby brother why we didn’t come home from the hospital with him.  We took his Christmas outfit to the funeral home for burial. My mom took me shopping for something my postpartum body would fit in for the funeral.

Shocked. Utterly shocked.

We had a funeral. We had a burial.

And we tried to survive.

And we did survive. Because of our hope in Christ, we survived.

The day after we came home from the hospital, I flipped the card of my scripture calendar on the windowsill above my sink and the verse said,

“The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart.”
-Psalm 34:18

I left that card there for months and months because I needed the reminder that the Lord was near to me. After a while, the card was getting water stained and so I turned the card to the next one and it said,

“I will strengthen you, yes, I will help you.”
-Isaiah 41:10

I knew God knew my heartache and was there for me. A friend sent a Bible verse in a sympathy card and it instantly became my life verse.

“May the God of Hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you will overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
-Romans 15:13.

It has been over twenty years since our son was born still. Even though we know we will see him again, we miss him. We wonder what he would be like. We have times of sorrow and grief. But we cling to the Hope that is an anchor for our souls. (Hebrews 6:19)

My grandfather had a baby sister that died back in the 30’s. He said his mother was never the same after that. I didn’t want my kids to ever say that about me.

I want them to say that even though I knew sorrow, I knew the Lord’s grace was sufficient.

I want them to say that even though I tasted heartache, I trusted the Lord and put my hope in Him.

I want my family to say that I had hope and joy because of the Lord.

Being a Hope Mommy is a hard thing.  A very hard thing.  But I am so glad that the Lord is beside me every step of this horrific journey.  Because of Him, I can choose joy.

Shelly Templin
-Hope Mom to Zachary Robert Templin

Shelly D. Templin is an author, speaker and blogger that shares a message of hope –
with humor. She has three daughters, a son in heaven, and a granddaughter. Shelly
lives in Texas with her husband, Jack, of 29 years and their two dogs.
www.shellydtemplin.com
www.facebook.com/chucklesinthechaos/

Are you a writer?  Hope Mommies would love to share your story as a Hope Mom on our blog.  Every Saturday we will be sharing another 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 please send a draft between 800-1200 words to editor (at) hopemommies (dot) org.