A Different Kind of Love Story

"How could one person, not very big, leave an emptiness that was galaxy-wide?"
{Sheldon Vanauken, A Severe Mercy}

Dear Jordan,

Seven days ago I was walking around, alone, in Target... something that rarely happens. I passed the baby section and felt it again, that pang of loss. That deep ache of missing you. I have had the gift of giving birth to two healthy babies, your sisters. I have had the experience, twice, of caring for a newborn, of nursing and sleep deprivation, and I have raised them past infancy, past toddlerhood, past the preschool years. Your sisters are now six and nine. I don't take that gift for granted. But it doesn't erase the pain of what I missed out on with you. You are unique and I lost you.

There's just one you.

Which is why the tag on a small soft elephant designed for babies slays me. The tag that says Just One You. Carter's is so right. Each baby is a precious, irreplaceable individual. That's why the part of my heart that belongs to you will always be empty. Because you aren't here to fill it.

You are forever a baby in my mind. I cannot imagine you as a school-aged child. You are only what you ever were -- a tiny baby unblemished by the hardness of life. You are only love.

To talk about you is to validate you as real. You were not a dream or a nightmare. Seven years down this road, when I mention you, people may assume I have not healed. This is untrue. I write about you to honor you as my child, and to record you as part of my legacy. I talk about you to untangle the ethereal thoughts and emotions, to sort what can't always be sorted.

I speak of you to give myself the gift of loving you out loud.

Ours is a different kind of love story.

Once Upon a Time: A (Not So) Fairy Tale Ending

Once upon a time there was a happily expectant family. Already blessed with a child, they were thrilled to be pregnant with their second child. They told all of their friends and family, purchased crib bedding and nursery decor, and the pregnant woman went to bed every night with her hand on her belly and What to Expect When You're Expecting on her nightstand.

And then something completely unexpected happened. Towards the end of her first trimester, the woman went in for an ultrasound, and with no warning whatsoever, was told that her baby had died.

We are that family.
I am that woman.
That was our reality just over five years ago.

A procedure was done and I went home no longer pregnant.

And then, perhaps because I was doing such a good job of keeping it together emotionally, my body fell apart.

Four surgeries happened: in January 2006, again in January 2006, January 2008, and March 2008.

And in between the surgeries, we were given the gift of joy: another baby. Born healthy.

And in between the surgeries and the pregnancy and the delivery and the raising of two beautiful girls, my body continued to throw a fit, this time in the form of chronic pelvic pain, often severe.

So here we are today, five years later, and our daughters are healthy and happy. Our youngest recently turned 4 and we are gearing up to celebrate our firstborn's 7th birthday, later this month.

And we are still one child short of what we expected.

So just after the 5th anniversary of losing our middle child, whom we named and loved and miss, we decided to pay tribute, somehow, to the memory of that sweet baby we wanted so badly.

Allow me to introduce to you a little boy who has stolen our hearts. This is Cristian:

Cristian is a little boy from South America, about to celebrate his 5th birthday. It is our privilege to sponsor him through Compassion International*. Cristian was born just a couple months before our baby's due date.

Sometimes Happily-Ever-After doesn't happen, but in this case, we found a way to make some good from bad.


*If you have never heard of Compassion, please take a moment to visit their website and learn more about them, 'Like them' on Facebook, or even consider sponsoring a child. 

Rainbow after the Storm

We were thrilled to be expecting another baby. My doctor told me that he would order an ultrasound at 6 weeks, the soonest a fetal heartbeat can generally be seen on ultrasound. He was very sensitive to the fact that being pregnant again would be an anxious time for me. He was right.

In the days before the 6 week scan, I nearly vibrated with anxiety. I was so worried that we would lose the new baby; so afraid to bond, lest this baby die too. All I could do the day before the appointment was pray and repeat mantras like "Faith over Fear." There is a wonderful song written by Donald Lawrence and performed by Janna Long (of Contemporary Christian group Avalon) called "Somebody Loves You". I listened to that song on repeat for days before the ultrasound, and on the drive to the hospital that morning.

I see you standin' there all alone / Feelin' like all hope is gone / You cry yourself to sleep every night / Nothin' ever turns out right / Well, I'd like to encourage you / Just to let you know you'll get through / There's a light on you from above / Oh, don't you know.../ Somebody sees / Somebody knows / Somebody sits high and looks low / Somebody's watching / You're not alone / Somebody loves you so / Well, I know you don't understand / Just how you fit into the plan / Life has been so unfair / Sent you problems too hard to bear / Well, I'd like to encourage you / Just to let you know you'll get through / You gotta stand tall and be strong / Oh don't you know.../ Somebody sees / Somebody knows / Somebody sits high and looks low / Somebody's watching / You're not alone / Somebody loves you so/ Don't you know somebody loves you / Don't you dare give up the fight / Just reach deep down inside you / Oh, my God is there to guide you / And when you really need a friend / Don't hesitate to call him / He will be there to answer your prayer

I finally came to the conclusion, after listening to the song dozens of times, that no matter what happened with this pregnancy, God would get me through it. I couldn't bear the thought of losing another baby, but I was reassured that God saw me, He cared, He loved me so much, and He had a plan...

As soon as the tech began the scan, we saw a tiny baby. Soon after, we saw a flashing heartbeat. Seeing that sign of life was wonderful. The baby was measuring on track; the heartbeat was nice and strong. The tech printed me an ultrasound photo with the words I HAVE A HEARTBEAT typed on it. I walked out of the hospital with a permanent smile -- couldn't help it. The sun was shining, it was spring and our baby had a heartbeat!

There were several things that got me through the pregnancy, anxiety-wise. Losing a baby stripped me of naivety. I knew now that not only do people die, babies die, mine included. A few weeks after the ultrasound, I rented a Doppler online. From about 10 weeks along until I could feel the baby move regularly, I kept it, and when I felt myself being sucked into that spiraling vortex of fear I would check for the heartbeat.

From early on in the pregnancy, I began having pain and it would continue...

When I was beginning the second trimester, the due date for the baby we lost came and went. Two of my friends remembered me. One sent a beautiful e-card, and the other left me a voicemail saying she was thinking of me and hoping I was ok. It was touching to me, that even though I was expecting a new baby, the one we had lost had not been forgotten.

As we got closer to the halfway point, and the big level II ultrasound that could also reveal gender, we grew more and more excited to know more about the baby. Jonathan thought it was a girl. My journal from that time reveals my thoughts, "I really don't care which we're having -- losing [our baby] has made me less picky. I just want a healthy baby."

At 19 weeks 3 days, we had the ultrasound. Jonathan & I went together. Right away we saw the heart, still beating away (a sight I never became unaffected by), and little girl parts. She weighed 12 ounces and measured about 9" crown to rump. She had a cute little nose and little stick-out ears like Mommy and big sister Hannah. She looked perfect -- spine, brain, legs, feet, hands, elbow, shoulder and stomach. Her dates were right on track. We were so beyond thrilled and excited for Hannah to have a sister, and to be expecting a healthy baby.

We chose the name Natalie Kate.

As the pregnancy went on, Hannah became increasingly excited about her baby sister. At 22 weeks, we went to the county fair, where 2.5 year-old Hannah went on her first (kiddie) fair ride with Daddy. I waved to her from outside the little fence, and she held out her hand like a traffic controller, hollering, "Stay there, Mommy! You won't fit!"

At 24 weeks, she was resting with her head in my lap when my stomach made a sound. She leapt up, alarmed, and exclaimed, "OH! Nally, you scared me!"

Jonathan asked her, "What did Natalie do?"

"She burped, with her tiny mouth, in my ear."

Big sisterhood appeared in other ways, too. Hannah spent time talking to my belly, and singing "Jesus Loves Me", personalizing it to Natalie with the words "Jesus loves Nally so..." At one point she told Natalie, "Don't come out yet, Nally, the doctor's gonna help you."

By the beginning of the third trimester I was experiencing so much pain, it was difficult to function. I had a break-down at an OB appointment and for the remainder of my pregnancy I took prescription pain meds (safe for the baby), and used a heating pad to help with the pain. I also went to see a chiropractor and began having regular adjustments. Chiropractic care helped a lot and I was able to take less pain medication.

The last several weeks of the pregnancy were difficult. I felt like she would never come. I was huge and heavy and hurting, and trying to chase a very active toddler was nearly impossible.  But finally, 1 year and 2 weeks after losing our previous baby to miscarriage, I went into labor.

Natalie Kate was born on a chilly Wednesday in November about noon. She came into the world healthy and hearty, weighing 9 lbs and 8 oz. As soon as she was born she began crying. The nurse wiped her off and handed her to me, and as I held her, I said, "It's okay. Mommy's here." She recognized the sound of my voice and stopped crying. I looked into her slate blue eyes (that have since changed to brown) and her gaze met mine. She trusted me. She knew she was safe.

It had been such a long journey to hold this healthy baby in my arms, and I was unbelievably grateful. She was born just a few days after Thanksgiving, which was exactly how she was welcomed into our family ... with great thanksgiving.