Born Into The Arms of Jesus
This is my child's birth story- it's beautiful and messy and the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I understand parts might be uncomfortable, so please, stop reading now if you need too. I had to write this now before all the small details were erased. This is my child's' LIFE story and God will be given the Glory.
On Friday, September 25th- Jonathan and I went in for a normal OB appointment. We were excited and teasing each other on the way there and as we waited for the doctor to come in. I wish we could have waited longer- because what happened in the minutes following the doctors arrival, I wasn't prepared for. She did a normal physical and we talked about my terrible weeks of morning sickness. It was then time for our ultrasound. We- were so excited to see our little one- we couldn't imagine what was about to come out of my doctors mouth.
We starred at her beautiful features- her little arm rested upon her face, her sweet little button nose. She was fearfully and wonderfully made.
And then we heard "I'm concerned" coming from my doctors mouth. She couldn't find a heartbeat. I sank into the table. My life seemed to instantly turn upside down. We walked across the office to the ultrasound technician to check on a better machine. She confirmed that her heart had stopped. At that moment- Jon was holding me and we wept together. We rejoined my doctor who gave us big hugs and told us our options. She stressed we didn't have to make any decisions today, but to go home and just be with each other.
We left the doctors office out the side door. I felt like I couldn't breathe. How in the world was this happening to me, and again. We had experienced loss before. We lost our first baby in December of 2007. This time, I was sad, mad, and confused. I had just barely made it through 14 weeks of horrible nausea and hyperemesis (AGAIN!) I had already seen she was healthy and had a strong heart beat at 6 weeks. My belly was growing, slowly, but growing. My best friend was expecting exactly one week after me. Plus other friends in the weeks before and right after. What was happening? Why was this happening?
Life continued. Our little baby was still inside of me. Until she left my body, I was going to pray. I was going to pray that God would breathe life into her precious little body. And I was going to believe ANYTHING is possible through Christ. We were reminded in Daniel 3 that the God we serve is able to deliver us from death BUT even if he doesn't- we will serve no other gods.
On Wednesday, I came home from having lunch to find a little bit of spotting. It was beginning. God was breathing life into my little one or God was bringing my daughter home. I was reminded again in that same passage in Daniel 3- When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego came out of the fire, they saw that their bodies were unharmed, not a single hair on their heads singed. This is a powerful reminder that the God we serve is Almighty. All powerful. Holding onto him and trusting in his goodness. His plans are far greater- it might seem wrong to have to say goodbye to our little girl but God's plan is never wrong. And so- with that, we wait. We wait on the Lord.
Thursday, afternoon is when it started. It started so fast. My friend and I were sitting and chatting. I was in some pain, but we just sat, talked, and enjoyed each others company. All of a sudden, I was soaked. Like my water had broke. I called Jon quickly, told him to get home and call the doctors for pain meds. I ran up to the bathroom where contractions picked up and pain took over my entire body. I remember screaming and I remember my friends hand, reaching out and saying "squeeze" it seemed like minutes later I felt everything leave my body. My body began to shake as I realized I had probably had just given birth. I cried and my friend held me. Kids were starting to wake from naps, so I wrapped myself up in towels and blankets and walked down the stairs to wait for Jon. My friend got the kids dressed and took them outside to play at the park. Jon got home just as I realized I wasn't finished. We walked up the stairs and quickly again, I was screaming through contractions. And then- our daughter Malia Margaret was born. I quickly felt the color leave my body. I dropped to the floor as Jon retrieved our little girl. There she was, all protected in the sac, unharmed from the pain of this world. She had all 10 fingers and toes and was absolutely beautiful. I cried as Jon held her, the pain in my body continued. We called an ambulance because I was not going to be able to get to the hospital on my our own.
I remember not much of our trip to the hospital. I was in pain, I was cold, and I was overwhelmed with sadness. Once at the ER, the doctor and nurses took very good care of us. Contractions were persisting because my body was trying to birth the placenta. I remember the nurse asking me to push. My body sank as I didn't have one more ounce of strength left for pushing. She held my hand (as did Jon) and I pushed the placenta out. A little later, an ultrasound indicated that I had about 6 inches left of tissue. A dear friend came and sat with me while I had a dose of pitocin to try and rid my body of the remaining tissue. I was uncomfortable but I was so thankful that even though this little life had died on earth, she was being celebrated.
After arriving home, Jon went and got me some soup and I sat across from my mom sharing with her Malia. My medication kicked in and Jon took me up to bed. Later that evening, Jon and I went down and spent time with our little girl. We pulled open the sac she was born in and just studied her precious little body. It was very important to me that I had time with my little girl and Jon and I'm so thankful God heard the deep desires of my heart and made it possible so that I could hold her and just be in the moment. Crying and thanking Jesus for this beautiful child he created. Perfectly.
My beautiful daughter Malia "beloved" Margaret "pearl" though our time together was short here on earth- I cannot wait to see you and hold you again for eternity. I will hold you in my heart until then and praise God-- his plan for your life is perfect.
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A Message from Jon:
Little Malia,
I love coming up with nicknames for my children. Ru Ru, Bray, and Mar (to name just one each). I wonder what yours would have been. I wonder how I might have enjoyed time spent with you as an infant, toddler, child, teenager, and adult. Maybe most of all I wonder what the light in your eyes would have been like. I wonder how you would have looked at me when I picked you up in the morning or came home from work at the end of the day or teased you (or you teased me).
I wanted to write something about your mom in this space. Not that you'll read it, I suppose. Maybe this is more for me and for your mom than for you, but I do hope there is some mystical way you do get this message. Your mom is tough and utterly courageous when it comes to her children-- and you are no exception. She is deeply passionate and loving toward her children-- and you are no exception. She loved you from the moment we found out you existed through your death and even to this moment. She loved you so much that she went through agonizing pain and potential danger to get to see you even after we knew you were no longer living. She didn't write about it above, but she actually had to go back to the hospital again the following night and your mother and I were there overnight so she could have a surgical procedure. She could have had that surgery earlier this week and she would not have had to go through all the pain of Thursday through Saturday. But that is not your mom. She knew her chance to see you rested on her willingness to endure whatever might come and she was brave enough to do it. And so in some strange way you redeemed all that pain, Mal. To see you and your short blessed life made all the pain worth it. You were worth it and more. Your mom proved it.
I don't know you yet, Mally, but I look forward to seeing the light in your eyes in the next life. Until then, sweet child, rest in the knowledge that you were loved just as much as our other children and so much more by your heavenly Father.
We left the doctors office out the side door. I felt like I couldn't breathe. How in the world was this happening to me, and again. We had experienced loss before. We lost our first baby in December of 2007. This time, I was sad, mad, and confused. I had just barely made it through 14 weeks of horrible nausea and hyperemesis (AGAIN!) I had already seen she was healthy and had a strong heart beat at 6 weeks. My belly was growing, slowly, but growing. My best friend was expecting exactly one week after me. Plus other friends in the weeks before and right after. What was happening? Why was this happening?
Life continued. Our little baby was still inside of me. Until she left my body, I was going to pray. I was going to pray that God would breathe life into her precious little body. And I was going to believe ANYTHING is possible through Christ. We were reminded in Daniel 3 that the God we serve is able to deliver us from death BUT even if he doesn't- we will serve no other gods.
On Wednesday, I came home from having lunch to find a little bit of spotting. It was beginning. God was breathing life into my little one or God was bringing my daughter home. I was reminded again in that same passage in Daniel 3- When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego came out of the fire, they saw that their bodies were unharmed, not a single hair on their heads singed. This is a powerful reminder that the God we serve is Almighty. All powerful. Holding onto him and trusting in his goodness. His plans are far greater- it might seem wrong to have to say goodbye to our little girl but God's plan is never wrong. And so- with that, we wait. We wait on the Lord.
Thursday, afternoon is when it started. It started so fast. My friend and I were sitting and chatting. I was in some pain, but we just sat, talked, and enjoyed each others company. All of a sudden, I was soaked. Like my water had broke. I called Jon quickly, told him to get home and call the doctors for pain meds. I ran up to the bathroom where contractions picked up and pain took over my entire body. I remember screaming and I remember my friends hand, reaching out and saying "squeeze" it seemed like minutes later I felt everything leave my body. My body began to shake as I realized I had probably had just given birth. I cried and my friend held me. Kids were starting to wake from naps, so I wrapped myself up in towels and blankets and walked down the stairs to wait for Jon. My friend got the kids dressed and took them outside to play at the park. Jon got home just as I realized I wasn't finished. We walked up the stairs and quickly again, I was screaming through contractions. And then- our daughter Malia Margaret was born. I quickly felt the color leave my body. I dropped to the floor as Jon retrieved our little girl. There she was, all protected in the sac, unharmed from the pain of this world. She had all 10 fingers and toes and was absolutely beautiful. I cried as Jon held her, the pain in my body continued. We called an ambulance because I was not going to be able to get to the hospital on my our own.
I remember not much of our trip to the hospital. I was in pain, I was cold, and I was overwhelmed with sadness. Once at the ER, the doctor and nurses took very good care of us. Contractions were persisting because my body was trying to birth the placenta. I remember the nurse asking me to push. My body sank as I didn't have one more ounce of strength left for pushing. She held my hand (as did Jon) and I pushed the placenta out. A little later, an ultrasound indicated that I had about 6 inches left of tissue. A dear friend came and sat with me while I had a dose of pitocin to try and rid my body of the remaining tissue. I was uncomfortable but I was so thankful that even though this little life had died on earth, she was being celebrated.
After arriving home, Jon went and got me some soup and I sat across from my mom sharing with her Malia. My medication kicked in and Jon took me up to bed. Later that evening, Jon and I went down and spent time with our little girl. We pulled open the sac she was born in and just studied her precious little body. It was very important to me that I had time with my little girl and Jon and I'm so thankful God heard the deep desires of my heart and made it possible so that I could hold her and just be in the moment. Crying and thanking Jesus for this beautiful child he created. Perfectly.
My beautiful daughter Malia "beloved" Margaret "pearl" though our time together was short here on earth- I cannot wait to see you and hold you again for eternity. I will hold you in my heart until then and praise God-- his plan for your life is perfect.
----------
A Message from Jon:
Little Malia,
I love coming up with nicknames for my children. Ru Ru, Bray, and Mar (to name just one each). I wonder what yours would have been. I wonder how I might have enjoyed time spent with you as an infant, toddler, child, teenager, and adult. Maybe most of all I wonder what the light in your eyes would have been like. I wonder how you would have looked at me when I picked you up in the morning or came home from work at the end of the day or teased you (or you teased me).
I wanted to write something about your mom in this space. Not that you'll read it, I suppose. Maybe this is more for me and for your mom than for you, but I do hope there is some mystical way you do get this message. Your mom is tough and utterly courageous when it comes to her children-- and you are no exception. She is deeply passionate and loving toward her children-- and you are no exception. She loved you from the moment we found out you existed through your death and even to this moment. She loved you so much that she went through agonizing pain and potential danger to get to see you even after we knew you were no longer living. She didn't write about it above, but she actually had to go back to the hospital again the following night and your mother and I were there overnight so she could have a surgical procedure. She could have had that surgery earlier this week and she would not have had to go through all the pain of Thursday through Saturday. But that is not your mom. She knew her chance to see you rested on her willingness to endure whatever might come and she was brave enough to do it. And so in some strange way you redeemed all that pain, Mal. To see you and your short blessed life made all the pain worth it. You were worth it and more. Your mom proved it.
I don't know you yet, Mally, but I look forward to seeing the light in your eyes in the next life. Until then, sweet child, rest in the knowledge that you were loved just as much as our other children and so much more by your heavenly Father.
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