The Story

To say I had an inkling would be inaccurate.  I had a sinking feeling I was desperately trying to push aside.  

The day before had been perfect.  One of those days where time stands still and you are able to cherish the sweet moment you are right in the middle of.  Perfection.  We had decided a family day for the three of us was in order.  Being 39 weeks, there may not be much time for memory making days so we made the most out of it.  To the park, duck and goose pond and a ride on a steam train.  Playing, walking, laughing and cherishing.  Perfection.  

Then the unthinkable.  

Waking at 5 had become a normal occurrence. The thought that popped into my head, however, was not.  Baby hasn't moved in a while.  I pushed it aside in my tired state and told myself yesterday was a busy day.  I fell into a fitful sleep and the first thought when I woke was the same.  Baby hasn't moved in a while.   I suddenly wasn't so sleepy anymore.  I walked around, pushed my belly and laid on my left side, all the while pleading for movement. 

Nothing.  

I confessed my thoughts to Jonnie.  We stared at each other in silence for a moment.  I tried more to make movement come.  Nothing.  Starting to panic, I started researching and trying to placate the wild thoughts as they flooded in.  I called the doctor.  No answer.  Jonnie called my nurse practitioner. I was to come in right now.  We quickly left, still clinging to the hope that baby was just really tired.  The nurse practitioner struggled while I lay there.  She consulted a doctor and wished me the best after she confessed she couldn't find the heartbeat.  A heavy weight found its way onto my shoulders.  How could this be? She must be wrong.  She couldn't find it once before.  Surely, it was the same this time.  

We called our friends to drop our son off and started the drive into the city.  This was really happening.  We texted family.  I couldn't hold it in any longer.  I sobbed and pleaded for something other than what we were dreading. 

Rushed into the triage area the nurse hooked me up right away.  She struggled and wouldn't make eye contact.  She called the attending doctor.  She too struggled and called her supervisor.  She also struggled and confessed none of them had found any sign of a heartbeat.  The ultrasound machine and technician were brought in and confirmed the worst.  No heartbeat.  How could this be? Could they all be wrong? They must be.  I had a healthy pregnancy, textbook everything. Baby grew healthy.  This shouldn't be happening.  

We were left to soak in the news.  We sobbed into each other's arms in shock and disbelief.  This made no sense.  When we were ready to hear how to proceed, the staff returned to our room, somber.  They must have been privy to our sobs and cries of distress.  Next steps were discussed and yet I still pleaded for them to all be wrong.  Surely God was going to do something huge to show His power.  Surely this was a test like Abrahams and God would provide in the eleventh hour.  

Sent home to wait for a call, we wandered, aimless.  Family texting, calling, arranging flights, this was not how it was to happen.  Overwhelmed with confusion, the night was quiet and long.  Sleep was hard to come by, and every time I woke, I hoped beyond reason it would've all been a terrible nightmare. And yet, I still got the call. This was indeed reality.  

Dressed in baggy clothes to hide the belly that now housed my no longer living child, we went back to the hospital.  IV, drugs, procedures all being taken care of while I mindlessly watch it happen.  I try and rest.  We talk a bit about a funeral.  We walk around.  I try to rest.  We talk on and off, but things are hard to discuss all at once.  Pain meds are requested as things are slowly progressing.  I am no hero. I want to feel nothing.  I don't get the prize at the end. Our pastor comes, prays, distracts and comforts.  He leaves, we try and rest.  I wake, pain intense.  The nurse is called, my nurse is on break. The relief nurse says the baby is getting into position and that's why it's painful.  I sob quietly because she isn't aware.  

Pain is in full force and my nurse comes back.  She checks and I am transitioning.  From 3 cm to 10 in just a few short hours.  I was not prepared for this.  I start to sob and cry that I am scared.  I am coached on how to push and encouraged that I can do this.  I am scared.  I haven't done it before and finishing means knowing that everyone was right and I still desperately pray they are wrong.  

I push with all that I have, knowing that this is how it has to be.  Not too much later I hear talk of the head emerging.  Then the shoulders.  A couple more pushes and the baby is out.  

Our baby boy.  Levi Isaak.  

I feel empowered, I did it! And I feel crushed.  They were right.  There was no cry from Levi.  Just silence. He is placed on my chest and I hold him close.  His body is there, but his soul is not.  He is beautiful, but lifeless.  I am devastated.  Wasn't God going to surprise everyone? 

He is taken away to be wrapped and I finish pushing and am sewed up.  I still feel high after delivery, yet it is mixed with an incredible sorrow. I was never aware how much you could love someone you never had the chance to meet. 

We take turns holding our sweet boy and talking about who he looks like.  We cry and pray, still confused, but full of peace.  We were devastated, yet calm.  A stillness was covering our room. Jesus, who was already holding my little guy, was also present in the room with us. Showering us with peace and grace and quiet.  

A holy moment as we said our final goodbyes to the son we never met.