Our Story

Let me start by telling our story-- the short version.  As I continue with this blog, the long version will be told.

My husband, Adam, and I were married in November 2009.  I gave birth to our daughter, Alice, in August 2011.  We found out that I was pregnant with our second child in May of 2014.  Delighted, we shared the news with our family and closest friends.  Alice announced the excitement with a "Big Sister" t-shirt.

We went in for a routine ultrasound at 12 weeks.  We posted photos on Facebook, sharing with everyone that we were expecting our second child.  Though I experienced some bleeding due to placenta previa, it was a pretty normal pregnancy in the beginning.

At 21 weeks, Adam and I went back to the doctor for the next routine ultrasound.  We were so excited because this was the point where we should be able to find out the gender of the baby.  We told our daughter that when we came home that day, we should know if she would have a brother or sister.  We couldn't wait to find out!

One minute into the ultrasound on October 1, 2014, our lives changed forever.  The technician could tell that something was seriously wrong with our baby.  There was no amniotic fluid, suggesting a problem with the baby's kidneys.  At that moment, we were shocked and numb.  We didn't yet understand the gravity of the situation.  Because of the low amniotic fluid, the technician was not able to get very good images of our child, and we were not able to find out the gender.  Our OB/GYN scheduled us an appointment with a specialist to further investigate our baby's problem.

A few days later, we were faced with another ultrasound at the specialist's office.  After waiting in the room for what seemed like an eternity, the specialist came in with the worst news imaginable.  He diagnosed our child with Potter's Syndrome, an extremely rare and fatal disorder.  Babies with Potter's Syndrome have kidneys that do not function properly or never develop, causing a lack of amniotic fluid.  Without amniotic fluid, the lungs do not develop.  The specialist suggested terminating the pregnancy, since our child had zero chance of survival outside the womb.  We shook our heads no.  No, we would not terminate.

After hearing that news and being encouraged to terminate the pregnancy, we wrestled for a few days with our drastically altered future.  Our plans of bringing home a brother or sister for Alice would not happen.  Our child would be born and would never come home from the hospital.  Would it be easier to end this now and try to move on with our lives?

Adam and I are Christians, and we strongly believe that life begins at conception.  We came to understand that it was not our decision to make whether our child would live or die.  We would leave that decision up to God.  He could choose whether to miraculously heal our baby, or to take it home to heaven.  We would not be responsible for that decision.  We would trust God with his plan for our lives.  I would carry our child for as long as I could.

Because of the emotional weight of this pregnancy, and the depression that quickly set in, my doctor gave me a note to excuse me from work for the remainder of my pregnancy.  I couldn't face the students who would daily ask questions about my baby.  At that time, we weren't sure yet how public we should go with our devastating news.  We only told our family and closest friends, and to the rest of the world we pretended everything was OK.

The second half of my pregnancy was a long wait.  I felt like my life was on pause.  We knew our child would die, yet we could not move forward until after the birth.  The grieving process struck me on October 1, diagnosis day.  Shock.  Denial.  Anger.  Depression.  I felt like I was in a fog for weeks.  I stayed home to care for my daughter, Alice, and to take care of myself. That was all I could handle.  Gradually, I started enjoying bits of life, thankful that we had Alice to love on.

At the beginning of January 2015, I started feeling that "nesting instinct" that mothers sometimes feel, but I didn't recognize it as that.  Our due date was February 8, so our baby was not due for another month.  I thought there was no way I could be nesting already.  Yet there I was, frantically organizing cupboards, stocking my freezer, and knitting baby hats.

I went into labor on January 13, and I was in denial the whole time.  This couldn't be REAL labor; my baby was not due for another month.  My husband and his father were at the mortuary at the exact time I went into labor, starting to make arrangements for our baby's funeral.  Certainly the baby wouldn't be born on the same day!  But as the contractions got stronger and closer together, I could no longer deny that it was time.  We left our daughter with my mom, and drove to the hospital.  I was not ready for this to be over.  We were planning to have a scheduled c-section because the baby was breech.  I wasn't supposed to be experiencing labor pains!

Eventually I was prepped for an emergency c-section.  By the time I received my spinal block on the operating table, I was fully dilated and ready to push.  This baby was definitely coming today.  When the doctor arrived and started the surgery, I was so nervous.  We did not know if our child would die during birth, one minute after, or one hour after.  We did not know how much time we would have.  We prayed fervently for peace and for the chance to meet our child alive.

As the doctor announced, "it's a boy!" a huge wave of peace came over me.  The pediatrician took our son to the side for examination.  We could hear him trying to gasp for breath, but his lungs did not work.  Soon, they handed Jonah to us and we knew that we wouldn't have much time with him.  He was not miraculously healed, and he would not be staying with us.

We cuddled and hugged Jonah, loving every precious minute that we had with him.  The doctors placed Jonah right by my face as they stitched me up.  I can't remember what I said to Jonah, if anything at all.  I just remember the immense feeling of peace we had in the operating room.  To have peace in the face of my son's death was a tremendous gift from God.

After the surgery was over, I was wheeled to the recovery room with my son in my arms.  He was still alive, and the pediatrician kept checking his heartbeat, which was gradually slowing down.  After getting situated in my room, my husband went out to get our parents so they could meet Jonah.  The pediatrician had to take Jonah for an ultrasound, to confirm the diagnosis of Potter's Syndrome.  When they brought him back to me, he was gone.  Jonah lived for 55 minutes.  I did not cry; I was still filled with an otherworldly peace.  A peace that surpasses all understanding.

When my husband and our parents came in, I told them that Jonah had passed.  I told my family that there was no crying allowed; we were going to celebrate Jonah's birth.  We proudly passed around our son, taking pictures of him with each family member.  A photographer from the Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep organization was there to capture these precious memories with our son.  Sadly, our daughter, Alice, did not get to meet Jonah.  He was born late at night while she was asleep.

After a while our family left, and we were taken to the mother/baby unit with our son.  We held Jonah for a few more hours, and eventually felt it was time to say goodbye.  A nurse took him away, and assured him that we would be able to see him again whenever we wanted.  Even though he was no longer with us, I was comforted knowing he was nearby in the hospital, and I could see him again.

The next evening, we took our last look at our beautiful son.  The nurse had him all wrapped up so we could just see his little face.  She held him up for us to see, and we said goodbye.

Introduction

"Do you just have one child?"

Caught off guard, I hesitated a moment, then answered, "Yes."

But my heart screamed, "No!"

Such a simple question asked by the mom at the park, as she saw my daughter, Alice, playing.  A year ago, it would have been a simple answer:  yes, I have one child.  Today, the answer is not so easy.  Yes, I have one living child.  But I have given birth to two children.  My son, Jonah, is in heaven, and I started grieving his loss even before he was born.

Join me on my journey of celebrating Jonah's life and walking through the valley of grief.