Tabitha’s Story

For as long as I can remember, one of my greatest desires has been to be a mommy. In August of 2020, my dream became a reality. My husband and I frequently talked about growing our family, and I remember vividly the day we decided to start trying. 

At the time, we knew my dad had some health concerns, and we knew it was one of two things —pancreatitis or pancreatic cancer. On August 8, 2020, my husband, Austin, and I went on a hike. I remember sitting on a quiet bench along the trail and telling Austin that I did not want to wait any longer to try for a baby; I wanted my children to have my dad as long as possible. That day, we asked the Lord to give us a sweet baby if it was in His timing, and sure enough, I became pregnant right away.

My pregnancy was really quite smooth and easy. Our prenatal appointments were always perfect—measuring on track, strong heartbeats, and beautiful ultrasounds. My son’s due date was May 3, 2021. As the days crept closer to his due date, I noticed my body showing signs that labor was coming and so was my sweet boy.

On May 1, Austin and I had a fun day out. We met a friend for lunch, shopped, and grabbed supper with my family, all the while feeling my baby move inside me. We were so close to baby boy’s due date.      

The next day, I realized that I hadn’t felt the familiar movements and kicks that my son so often gave me each morning. After church, I drank some sweet drinks, hoping to wake him. I laid down to do a kick count, but the kicks never came. I called the hospital and explained what was going on, and they asked that I come in for monitoring. We packed our hospital bags and headed for the hospital. 

I remember being greeted by a very friendly and cheerful woman who pointed us to the elevator. Her cheerfulness stood in stark contrast to the fear settling into my own heart. My two greatest fears were that I would have to have a c-section or that something was wrong with my son. I didn’t really let myself think he would be gone. 

Once on the triage floor, a nurse took my weight, asking me what number baby this was for me. I told her he was my first. She then led us to the room with the heart monitor and began searching for our son’s heartbeat. All I heard was silence—deafening, sickening, overwhelming silence. That strong, steady sound I had grown to love so dearly never came. I asked the nurse if I should have been hearing his heartbeat by that point. She tried to reassure me that sometimes they can’t find the heartbeat right away. The midwife came in next to do an ultrasound and confirmed that my precious son was gone. The shock and overwhelming grief in that moment was unlike anything I have ever experienced. 

After doing bloodwork, they induced me and prepared me for labor. I remember waffling between feelings of wishing I didn’t have to go through the labor and work of pushing my son’s lifeless body into this world and a strong need to complete this work for my son because he deserved every ounce of effort from his mommy. 

After laboring and over an hour of pushing, Dean Ellis Zimmerman was born on his due date, May 3, 2021. He was perfect and beautiful in every way. We spent the next few precious hours with Dean before we had to let him go and say goodbye for now. I held him skin to skin, gently stroked his soft, still-warm skin, reminded God of the people He had brought back to life, and begged Him to breathe the breath of life back into Dean’s body. 

It’s a hard thing to accept that God is not obligated to answer my prayers according to my will, yet still trust that His ways are higher than mine and that He is still good. God is still God, still faithful and true, even when my prayers aren’t answered how I desire. 

We have no definitive answers as to why Dean passed. Tests were performed on my placenta, and Dean’s bloodwork was taken, but nobody was able to pinpoint exactly what happened. It still doesn’t feel real at times—that I carried him for so long and lost him so quickly. Even through these feelings of confusion, even though we don’t have the answers, even through grief and wonderings of “why,” we have learned, and are learning still, that the Lord is our Rock. He is our Strength, and our hope can lie safely in Him. 

He has tenderly shown His love and care for us in the midst of this valley—He truly sees us in our grief, and He truly cares. He has proven that in so many ways—from placing nurses with us who were believers, even some who lost children too, to connecting us with a specialist doctor who prayed for and with us and also knew the pain of losing one of his children. I could go on and on about the ways the Lord has so evidently shown His care for us and our hurting hearts. I have always known that Jesus loves me, but I have never so overwhelmingly felt His love as I have throughout this journey of losing my son. 

From the moment he was conceived, Dean was hope. Shortly after becoming pregnant, we learned that my Dad’s diagnosis was pancreatic cancer. The Lord gave us Dean at a time when we needed hope and joy. His name actually means, “From the valley, the Lord is my God.” We picked the names Dean and Ellis simply because we liked them, but when we learned what those two names mean together, we knew that this was the name the Lord had given us for our son. The Lord knew we would need the reminder of his name throughout my Dad’s continued battle with cancer as well as in losing the precious boy who bears that special name. 

We miss Dean more than words can say, but we have hope because of Jesus and His gift of salvation. A hope that is the anchor of our souls when our minds race with questions and our hearts are flooded with grief. A hope that is steady and sure. This life is not the end. Because we have accepted Jesus Christ, Austin and I will one day be reunited with our precious firstborn. What a glorious day that will be.  

I believe with all of my heart that the Lord will use Dean’s short life in mighty ways. My prayer for him was that the Lord would use his life to make an impact for Jesus—that prayer is being answered, though not in ways we ever imagined. Mothers and fathers, these Hope Babies of ours have infinite value and purpose. Forever loved, forever missed here on earth, and safely treasured in heaven with Jesus our Savior. 

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I am a Christ-follower, wife to Austin, and Hope Mommy to Dean Ellis. I spend my days working as a preschool teacher’s aide and enjoy photography, day-tripping, eating at local restaurants, and spending time with family. My desire is for Jesus to use Dean’s story, our story, to spread the gospel, give hope to grieving parents, and to bring awareness of the infinite value these little ones have from the moment of conception.  

 

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