January 26, 1976 - the 33rd anniversary of the birth and death of our baby son, Jeremy.
After 2 years of marriage, Andy & I found out we were going to have a baby. How exciting! Ever since I was a very little girl, my heart's desire had been to have babies and raise a family. I enjoyed the pregnancy. Oh, I was a little nauseous the first 3 months, but it was so minor in comparison to the excitement I felt on having a baby. I was due January 5, 1976, but in December, around the 3rd week, my doctor announced that I could go into labor at any time. My body was getting ready.
I don't know why the doctor told me that because it just made me think the end was near, when in reality, my due date came and went, with no sign that I was anywhere near going into labor. One week overdue, two weeks overdue...At week 42 of my pregnancy, the doctor examined me and promised that if I hadn't delivered by next week's appointment, he would induce me.
The day before my appointment, I finally went into labor. It was exactly 43 weeks. We got to the hospital, were admitted to a labor room and got settled in. There was a stethoscope lying on the bedside table and on a whim, Andy put it in his ears to listen to the baby's heartbeat. He listened and listened but couldn't hear anything. I was thinking, "well, he's not a doctor, he doesn't know what he's doing." But he was concerned enough to go get a nurse. The nurse, probably to placate him, tried the stethoscope as well, but didn't have any success either. So she called the doctor. I still wasn't concerned. I had heard that sometimes it's hard to get the baby's heartbeat when you're in labor...etc. But the doctor could not hear a heartbeat, then ordered an EKG machine to be hooked up to me. I think it might have been that evening that it was determined that our baby was not living (even now I don't like to use the word "dead.") How could this be? Being pregnant, giving birth are supposed to be happy events. But not this time.
The doctor said I would probably be in labor a long time since the baby would not be "helping" me. And I was. I got to the hospital around 3:00 pm on Sunday, was in labor all night and the next morning and finally delivered at 3:00 pm on Monday afternoon. The doctor wanted me to be put to sleep for the delivery. His reason was that he didn't know how long the baby had been dead and in what condition the body would be. He thought it would be easier on me emotionally if I never saw the baby. In hindsight, I wish I hadn't followed that advice, but I was so tired and in tremendous grief and shock, that I listened to him.
So Andy and I never saw our baby. The doctor told us he had blond hair and blue eyes and was perfect! He was 9 pounds, 5 ounces! I have to admit, I resent the fact that the doctor saw our baby, but we never did. How I longed to hold that precious little one. But that was 33 years ago, before we knew what we do now about grief.
I contracted a urinary tract infection and had to end up staying in the hospital for a couple of days. Believe it or not, they put me in the maternity ward to recover. I could hear babies crying in the night. And one time a nurse came into the room and told me to prepare myself, they would be bringing the babies around soon. When I made no move to do as she said, she repeated her instruction, so I had to tell her: "my baby is dead."
When I finally recovered physically and was released from the hospital, then I had to deal with the ache of empty arms. Needless to say, there were lots and lots of tears.
We decided to name our baby, Jeremy. That name is a derivative of Jeremiah, the weeping prophet. It also means: God's appointed. Our son was appointed to be with God forever. God told Jeremiah: "
Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart..." (Jeremiah 1:5) God knew what was going to happen to our little boy and had control over all our circumstances.
Our friends and family were so kind and supportive during our grieving time. And how can we explain the goodness of God to us. He ministered to us, comforted us, was near to us, gracious, merciful and loving in so many ways. His Word was so precious and comforting, especially Psalm 145, we drew great strength and comfort from that Psalm of David (who also lost a son). Even today, I think that is my favorite psalm.
What caused our baby to die in the womb? I don't know. The doctor decided I was gestational diabetic which would explain the bigness of the baby. But I'm not convinced. They had done the normal urine testing throughout my pregnancy and there had been no concern then.
The hospital buried the baby's body for us in a beautiful spot on the top of a hill in Portland, Oregon. The cemetery has a section for babies and children. It's a very scenic location overlooking the city of Portland, and on a clear day, you can see Mount Hood in the distance.
Of course, which would we rather have: a beautiful spot for our baby's grave or a baby in our arms to love, cuddle and raise? The Lord did hear the cry of our hearts, though, and one year later, we were blessed with our little Christy. "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord."
So does time heal our hurts? Well, in some ways the pain lessens in intensity and you don't think about the hurt nearly as often as when it's fresh. But triggers go off and those triggers are often unexpected. A number of months ago, there was a couple who was dedicating their baby in church. Pastor mentioned that there had been concern for the baby because the mother had gestational diabetes. There was the trigger - and I couldn't hold back the tears. Another huge trigger was when our pastor and his wife lost their baby in a pool drowning. I remember the pain of feeling their pain, but also feeling all over again the pain and loss of our own baby. And as recently as a couple of weeks ago, a family in our church had a son who was murdered in Italy where he was living with his wife and 2 children. He might have been the same age as our son if he had lived to adulthood, and I could empathize with them in their sorrow.
And it's painful to relive this and write about our experience, but at the same time therapeutic to remember not only the pain, but that the Lord was there with us and helping us through the trial. We cling to Him because He is all we have left. He sympathizes with us in our weakness, for God Himself had a Son who was killed. He understands and gives us the hope to keep on living.
I recently read an excellent article in the October 4, 2008 issue of
World:
Giving Birth to Grief. A man who had lost an adult son wrote the article but expressed so well how grief feels and the processes we go through in our grief.
I think it's interesting that death is so much a part of our existence here on earth, after all, everyone dies, but it is still such a shock and surprise when it happens. But one day, (what a glorious hope we have in Christ), death will be destroyed forever. "
Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." (1 Corinthians 15:54-57)
What a happy day it was when Christy joined our family. Why did we name her Christy? Our desire and prayer was that she would become a little Christ - a Christian. The verse we picked for her was John 17:22-23: "I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me..." (Christ in you/her)
Why do we call her Crusader Christy? Check out this definition of "crusader" and see if it doesn't fit her: a vigorous, concerted action for some cause or idea, or against some abuse. Christy is also very compassionate and caring - a unique combination.
Why do we call her Crusader Christy? Check out this definition of "crusader" and see if it doesn't fit her: a vigorous, concerted action for some cause or idea, or against some abuse. Christy is also very compassionate and caring - a unique combination.
