In my younger years, I often failed to realize the frailty of my memory. I assumed that I could, and would, forever remember the moments that were most precious to me. Well, as I've aged, I have come to understand the importance of writing down those memories that I really want to hold onto.
Our time with Joshua was so brief, a mere 17 weeks. Which is why it is all the more important for me to capture these moments with him that were so precious.
We have been gifted with three beautiful children on this earth. But unfortunately, we have had our share of loss as well. When I am pregnant, I can usually tell very early on. I just feel it. I do think that this is a special gift from God, allowing me to enjoy as much time with our children as possible. Little Joshua was no exception. I knew very early on that I was pregnant, but I waited until Mother's Day to take a pregnancy test, only really necessary to confirm what I already knew.
Mother's Day was also the day that I told Joe about the pregnancy, and I turned our family number 5 over to the number 6. A statement of our growing family.
We waited until around the three month mark to start spreading the news. We first told our kids. That was a thrill.
Then we (i.e. the kids) told the good news to family and friends.
One more bike.
Our initial doctor's appointments went very well. His heartbeat was strong. At 13 weeks, a thorough ultrasound showed him developing wonderfully.
And then at 17 weeks and 4 days along, I went in for my routine doctor's appointment. It was supposed to be a quick in and out: check my blood pressure, weight, hear the baby's heartbeat. Except the doctor couldn't find a heartbeat. I wasn't too concerned at first, thinking the baby was just in a difficult position. But as time went on, worry grew. My doctor was able to get me in for an ultrasound right away. One quick look and the technician confirmed my fears: there was no heartbeat. He was measuring right at 17 weeks, so his death must have been recent. There were no clear answers as to why.
Needless to say, I was devastated. And then I had to go home to share the news. That was hard.
All this happened late in the day on Friday. Friday night was a blur of mourning and preparations. We made plans to go into the hospital on Saturday morning to induce labor. Once we arrived at the hospital, we settled in just long enough for the nurse to tell us that our pastor was there. We had called our church prayer chain on our way to the hospital. It was probably 20 minutes later that he was sitting with us in our room. What a gift.
Shortly afterwards, the doctor came in to talk us through the process. They were ready to induce labor. Because Joe had not been at the doctor's appointment with me, I think it was even more difficult for him to accept. He asked the doctor if they could do one last ultrasound, somewhat for closure, but mostly hoping there was some sort of mistake. I initially tried to talk him out of it, having seen the ultrasound myself. But the doctor was very supportive and agreed to do one last ultrasound.
Sadly, the ultrasound did confirm our son's death, but it also showed my placenta was in a rather precarious position for delivery. In fact, there was about a 25% chance that the placenta had attached to some scar tissue remaining from Henry's c-section. They couldn't know for sure until delivery, but if it were the case, then a full hysterectomy would be likely. Not something to be overly concerned about, but Doctor Tabor felt strongly enough about it that he wanted to postpone delivery until the following week when they would have a surgical team prepared in case there were complications. He actually said to Joe, "Thank God you requested that ultrasound." So yes, I do thank God for Joe and that he was receptive to that nudging.
We went home and we waited. In some ways, it was good to do so. It allowed us a little more time to let the reality of the situation sink in. We went to church on Sunday and mourned with our community there. And then Monday and Tuesday, things seemed unusually normal. Joe went back to work. I did what I could to prepare for the week. It was normal, until I'd remember that it wasn't normal at all. It wasn't normal because our little son had died, and we were now making arrangements for his death. That's not how it was supposed to go.
Tuesday night we said good night to our kids and made our way back to the the hospital by 9 pm. Our pastor was waiting for us there. Once again he sat with us, cried with us, read Scripture over us. And then the nurses and doctors came in to talk us through the process one more time.
Some gifts for baby brother
playing Old Maid with Georgie while we waited
The labor and delivery went well. Little Joshua was born at 4:40 pm on Wednesday, August 2nd. He was so perfect. So beautiful. Joe and I remarked that even though he was small, as he laid across our hands, at times we expected him to flutter his eyes open and begin cooing at us. He was just so perfect. I know I said that already, but he really was.
Dr. Tabor with Joshua
Joe and I were able to spend the next couple hours with him - holding him, adoring him, mourning him. For me, that was such a comfort. With concerns of complications, I was mostly worried that my time with him would get cut short. I was so grateful to have all the time with him that I did.
But after a couple hours with Joe and Joshua, I started to feel very sick. My blood pressure had dropped quickly, so Doctor Tabor came in to check on me. My placenta hadn't come out yet, which given the situation, was cause for concern. So while Joe cared for Joshua, my doctor and nurses cared for me. As the conversation began to turn towards surgical options, I told my doctor to do whatever he needed to do to keep me off the operating table. I did not want to leave Joe and Joshua. So in brief, the doctor was able to remove the placenta, a procedure usually done while under general anesthesia. I did it without so much as an aspirin. It was no walk in the park, I tell you. But I would do it again in a heartbeat to have every extra minute with Joshua. Totally worth it!
Everyone at the hospital was incredibly kind. They hung a leaf on our door so anyone coming in was aware of our situation.
The hospital chaplain checked in on us a couple of times. A social worker came to offer suggestions for how to help our children grieve. They gave us some beautiful keepsakes: a baby blanket, a tiny hat and diaper, a beaded bracelet with Joshua's name on it, a teddy bear for us and each of our kids (we call them "Joshua Bears"), and most significantly for us, plaster molds of Joshua's feet as well as his whole body.
The plaster molds have actually been very helpful for our kids. They felt uneasy about coming to see Joshua, but asked if we would take pictures. We understood that it was a lot for them to take in, so we supported their decision 100%. On several occasions since Joshua's birth, though, I have found Claire looking at and gently stroking Joshua's mold. I think it has been helpful in her healing, as well, to be able to see what Joshua really looked like in a way that is safe for her.
Looking back, I think the hardest part was leaving the hospital. I felt like I was handling it all pretty well up until that point. Thankfully, we had George with us, a comfort for sure. So while Joe ran to get the van, a nurse pushed me (with George on my lap) down to the lobby. Unfortunately, she parked me in the midst of a group of expectant mothers and fathers touring the hospital. While they were aglow with excitement, I was just trying to keep it together. I really did not want to make a scene. But then, of course, another mother came down to the lobby with her beautiful newborn, and well, I just couldn't muster another ounce of self-control. I tried to hide my silent sobs behind George, hoping no one would notice. But George noticed. And when he did, he handed me one of the "Joshua bears" that he was holding in his lap. Despite the grief, it was a proud mamma moment.
So that's our story, Joshua's story. I'm not going to lie; it has been a roller coaster of emotions. We grieve our loss every day, but our story wouldn't be complete without considering all we have to be thankful for.
1. I'm thankful for Joshua, for his short but meaningful life. I'm thankful for the extended time we were able to spend with him.
2. I'm thankful for our faith that reassures us that Joshua is with Jesus in Glory, and one day we will be reunited with him and his brothers/sisters.
3. I'm thankful for Joe, for his love and care through this.
4.I'm thankful for Claire, Henry and George. They certainly keep life interesting!
4.I'm thankful for Claire, Henry and George. They certainly keep life interesting!
5. I'm thankful for a safe delivery. That complications were avoided and recovery has been smooth.
6. I'm thankful for Doctor Tabor. He also delivered George, and truly if we could have picked any doctor to deliver Joshua, it was him. Both his skill and his heart are beyond extraordinary.
7. I'm thankful for the support of our community, family and friends. We have felt especially cared for through this.
8. It sounds strange, but I'm thankful Joshua was born in the afternoon. Power went out in the hospital that night, and we were stuck with only a flashlight. That would have complicated things!
9. I'm thankful for a random call from an old friend who happened to be thinking of me that day. My friend Andrea, who I shared a hospital room with when I was born and then became close friends with in junior high school. We had not spoken in a couple years, but she called shortly after Joshua was born because she just felt that nudge to do so.
10. I'm thankful for Stroo Funeral Home and their compassion towards hurting families.
We miss Joshua every day. But in our loss, we pray for grace and gratitude. Some days are better than others, but we just keep praying.
We miss Joshua every day. But in our loss, we pray for grace and gratitude. Some days are better than others, but we just keep praying.
