3 weeks later...

Several people have emailed asking how we're doing...  that's a hard question to answer.
We're ok - or at least, we will be... 
right now, it's hard.

We went to the store the other day and there was a newborn baby near the door, crying that soft new baby cry...  my heart could not handle the sound.  Not a full minute in the store and I had to turn around and leave...

The first time back to get groceries, a young family passed by me with a brand new baby girl - she was beautiful...  didn't look a thing like our Faith did, and yet it was so painful to see her...  it was all I could do to stay standing - I looked away and fought tears. My husband saw and understood, placing himself behind me, put his arms around me and just let me cry.  I don't cry in public - I just don't - and yet there I was...  bawling.

There's no envy or begrudging others of their babies...  there are 3 families in our church who had baby girls all born within a month of our Faith's birth - I am happy for each of them, but right now my heart hurts too much to share in their joy.  Maybe that doesn't make any sense.

No way in the world would I wish this pain, the understanding of this pain, on anyone...  I would not wish someone else's baby to be my own...  it wouldn't be the same anyway.  I'm grateful for them, that they have their little ones to love and hold and coo and gush over...  but I can't bring myself to intentionally look, I can't prevent the tears from falling when I see or hear a new baby... 

This too shall pass...  it has to. 

My heart is raw.  It will heal.  It will take time, though.

Most of the kids have adjusted well and most seem to have moved past their grief already - that's not surprising, since most of them are still pretty young...  A couple of the older girls still cry, still need reassurance and comforting - that's ok, too.  I'm so thankful that none of them feel the need to question God for His gift of a baby sister who would not live longer than 2 hours on this earth...  so thankful that they thank Him for the time we had when we say our prayers, thankful that they trust that God has a reason for allowing all things - even hard things like the death of their baby sister...  I pray that He uses this in their hearts and increases their faith and trust in Him, that He uses this to allow them empathy for others in their time of pain...

TJ and I handle our grief differently.  I'm pretty much an open book - I have a terrible "poker face" and wear my heart on my sleeve.  Anyone who knows me knows this.  TJ on the other hand processes his feelings internally - he doesn't show his feelings of sadness or grief often, only in private moments together.  His smile is back, along with the smile lines I so love around his eyes...  when people ask how we're doing, his answer is "great" - I have to accept that this is just him...  it's how he handles things...  for the most part, he is doing great, and that's good.  I'm not there yet.  It will come, but it isn't there right now.  That's ok, too. 

So, we're doing ok - some better than others...  we continue to trust in the Lord through this, and for the healing of our hearts and hurts.  I'm exceedingly grateful for the living children we do have, and for the ability to be home with them and to raise them...  but that doesn't replace the babies we have lost.  It doesn't replace the empty place in my arms where Faith "should" be.  No person can be replaced with another person...  every one has their individual place in our hearts, and the place where Faith should be is both full of love for her and empty of her presence, if that makes any sense.  We are hurting still, but that's to be expected.  Life will never be the same, and it's not supposed to be...  Time will heal the wounds, but there will forever be marks left where the wound is...  time will lessen the hurt, but it won't go away completely, not until we are in the Lord's presence and He takes all hurts away, and we will know nothing but the joy of His presence and the rejoicing and praise in awe of Him, our Creator God...

In the meanwhile, it's small steps...  one day at a time.  We'll be ok in time, but it will take time to get there.  I thank you for your prayers and loving concern as we work toward that goal. 

In His time...  and continuing to rest in His hands.

Faith's story...

While this was so hard to write (and may well be hard to read, so don't feel obligated to read it unless you want to) it was also one step forward in the process of healing...

Our precious little girl...

Faith Joanna... our 10th baby...
well, our 10th live birth but our 17th baby...

Faith was diagnosed early with Trisomy 18...

backing up - this is still pretty raw...

We conceived the end of August/ very beginning of Sept -just before going out of town for our oldest son to have surgery by a urologist in another state - I remember joking with the u/s tech when our dates didn't line up with LMP and early ultrasound dating - we were camping in a tent with 9 children when I *should* have been fertile, so I knew we had conceived just before that trip... it certainly didn't happen during! It was far less expensive to stay in a campground in our tent than try to manage the cost of multiple hotel rooms near the hospital - and it was more fun for the kids (and us), which made it an adventure of sorts, even if the campground was in town and not out by a mountain lake or something truly fun and rustic...

Anyway, we were surprised but happy with the initial positive test... We were back home, son was recovering nicely from his surgery and I was feeling oh so tired and worn down... but not surprised because it had been an intense year, with my second oldest daughter having had 2 surgeries (one on each foot) the previous November and then again in January, and then my husband having had complete reconstructive surgery on one of his feet in February, which put him out of commission for some time, and left me handling homeschooling our 6 oldest (including graduating our oldest that May) as well as the 3 little ones who were not yet school age, handling barn chores, etc on my own, and then when DH had to return to work (as active duty military) he could not drive so I was his transport to and from work, doctor appointments, physical therapy, etc... not to mention nursing my little one. Then just after pig butchering (I do my own processing) it was time to plan our son's surgery trip out of state... needless to say, I'd been burning the candle at both ends, so the fatigue was not surprising... but I'd had this niggling little feeling of wondering if I might be expecting... then our 6 year old was sitting at the table drawing a picture while I was baking bread for the week - she showed me her picture and I asked her to tell me about it, "it's our family", she said, "but in my picture we have ten children, and not just nine." (I was chuckling at her use of the word "just" but her words stuck with me... out of the mouths of babes...) An hour later I gave up my resolve to wait until morning, and went and took a pregnancy test. It was faint, but clearly positive. I was happy and could not wait to tell my husband -

Not long after that initial positive, I started feeling like something wasn't quite right... hoping and praying that this didn't mean we would miscarry yet another little one... When we were far enough along that I felt we could get a good heart-view on ultrasound, I called our high-risk specialist OB and scheduled an appointment, called the base to get the insurance authorization and lab test requested for said authorization (all the things the military requires for an OB referral, I know the process well...) We were scheduled for ultrasound the following week - when we got there, my OB's nurse asked how I was feeling and I told her "I think something isn't quite right, but not sure what, to put my finger on it..." she said we would take a look at the u/s and see... the u/s went well, we saw a strongly beating heart and everything appeared normal, but that unsettled feeling did not leave...

At our next appointment I was told about a newer test, my OB knew that I have always declined any kind of testing beyond ultrasounds, because it would not change anything for us... we would never consider ending any pregnancy for any reason. However, I was encouraged to think about this test, it was designed for women who are "older" for childbearing and uses only the mother's blood, and not placental tissue or amniotic fluid... the Materniti21 test. I was told it looks at Trisomy 13, 18, and 21 (Down's syndrome). I said TJ and I would discuss it and call them back - we did talk about it and agreed that we would go ahead with the testing - that night I looked up what T13 and T18 were, because I had not heard of them, but dismissed them quickly from my mind, thinking that if we had a positive result, it would probably be for Down's Syndrome. I felt confident that while it would be difficult health-wise for our baby, I could handle Down's - I've worked with Down's children and adults over the years, and knew the heart issues that tend to come with it, but knew we could handle that as well, with good doctors... in my mind, my baby probably did have Down's, and I felt ok with that... that night I fell asleep after closing out the internet windows of information about the three Trisomy issues the test looked at. I dreamed that night that I had given birth to our baby, held baby in my arms, and then the next thing I knew I was writing an obituary... I woke up crying. As I told that dream (through tears) to my husband, I told him I wasn't sure if it was the result of reading what I had at bedtime or if it was the Lord preparing my heart for things to come... I hoped it was the reading material. In hindsight, I believe that it was the Lord, preparing my heart.

When we went in for the blood draw at my OB's, I told the nurse about my dream - she's been a friend as well as nurse, as she and my OB both cared for us during our last 2 births as well as our 7th miscarriage, between those births... she said "let's see if we can put those fears to rest".

Not quite 2 weeks later, I got a phone call. It was the day before our next scheduled ultrasound (with my high number of miscarriages, it was more of a peace-of-mind check for both the OB and me). The nurse asked me if I could talk for a moment, in a very quiet voice... I knew then that she had news. I said "the results came back, didn't they?" she said yes, she had just gotten a call that morning. I went into my bedroom and closed the door, with instructions to my children to finish their assignments and I would be back out shortly... Once I was sitting down I asked "is it Down's? I think I can handle that..." she said "No, Amy, it's 18..." she let that sink in for a moment... the only thing I had read about Trisomy 18 was a brief synopsis that summed T18 as "always fatal" - I choked back tears and said "but that's fatal", she clarified "almost always, but not always..." she explained that she had gotten the call, then went in to speak with the OB... she said they both cried over the news and talked about it, deciding that they felt sure they knew me well enough to know I would want them to call me with the news before our appointment the next day... I told her she was right, thanked her for calling, and we hung up. I put my head back and just sobbed. Dear Lord, please don't take another baby... When I was able to pull myself together, I called my husband at work "I need you. Please can you come home right now?" I sobbed into the phone... he had gotten doctor's clearance to start driving again two months before... he asked if I was ok and I said No, then hung up before starting to sob again...

I didn't leave my room again until that evening - so thankful that my oldest (17) was able to manage things while I wasn't able to be mom for those hours....

When TJ got home he greeted the kids and then came in to our bedroom. One look at me and he locked the door, sat beside me on the bed and took my hand in his, waiting... I cried out the phone call story to him, then we held each other and cried... and cried some more. When we were able to recollect ourselves, he went out to check on the kids and to put something simple together for the kids for supper - I wasn't able to think and supper was the last thing on my mind at the moment... WHile he fed the kids, he explained that I wasn't feeling well and that I was probably going to spend the evening in bed - he paved the way for me to take some time to process, to look up on the internet and read more about Trisomy 18, and to get myself in check. After he tucked little ones in bed for the evening, we called a family conference with our 4 eldest children, feeling the need to be open with them up front so that they would understand what we were dealing with. They are all old enough to understand, and we felt it was the right way to handle things... Through a tear filled evening, we discussed what I had learned after further reading, answered their many questions as honestly as we could, then prayed together for our little girl...

Because I had such a strong feeling that something wasn't right with this pregnancy, I opted for the gender test that was available with the trisomy test - I had to call the nurse back that afternoon to ask her if we had that result as well, she said, "you have a daughter".

My husband and I spent the evening discussing a name for her, feeling strongly that we didn't want her to die without a name... we settled on Faith for her first name and decided we would choose a middle name later. We both felt a peace about her first name, and I was thankful to be able to call her by name and not just "baby" as we had done with our many other "lost pregnancies"...

(we later decided on her middle name of Joanna, because of it's meaning "God is gracious" - it is with deep peace that this was the perfect name for our precious litttle one - she was a gift of God's grace, and it has been His grace that has carried us through these past months.)

The next day we met with the OB and ultrasound technician for our follow up appointment... the ultrasound tech was so sweet, she met us at the door and said "I'm so sorry", then ushered us back so that we wouldn't have to wait in the waiting area with all of the other expectant mothers... away from curious eyes at this woman who had obviously spent much of the night crying and was fighting to keep herself in control...

The ultrasound revealed several disturbing issues right off, including an omphalocele (a membrane sack outside of the abdomen that holds organs that should have been inside the body), and a heart that didn't look quite right. About half way through the hour long ultrasound, the tech stopped, put the transducer down, put her hand on mine and said "I'm so sorry, Amy, things really don't look good. Things are concerning on a number of levels." I nodded, knowing she spoke truth... she asked if I wanted to see more, or if I wanted her to turn off the monitors, explaining she had done similar ultrasound for another family who preferred not to see, not to know... I said "no, please don't - I want to know everything. It's hard, but I want to know." she said ok, and continued on with the u/s. When we were finished, she printed some of the nice pictures for me, put them beside the u/s table and said she would go speak with the doctor while I got my belly cleaned up from all the gel... giving us a moment to collect ourselves and just breathe...

When she and our OB came in to the room to talk with us more, my OB had tears in his eyes as he said how very sorry he was to give us this news... He asked how we were feeling... DH was silent and I answered "distressed. But we believe that God is the maker and giver of life. He alone determines our number of days... we'll have to rest in that." He smiled and said he had never heard it put quite that way before, but if we chose to continue with her life that he would support us in that decision and do his best to help us through the road ahead. I knew he would never encourage us to abort, but still felt the need to state what I did... and that became our foundation for Faith's life. She was God's creation, not a mistake - He made her life and He knew all of this long before we did, so we would trust in Him for the outcome, and cry out to Him for the grace to get through what was to come, whatever that may be... I really struggled with the thought that my baby was probably going to die, and I hadn't even met her yet!

The following months brought many, many more ultrasounds and medical appointments - we met with a pediatric cardiologist who scheduled us for a 2-way heart echo along with ultrasound, also, and were sad to learn that her heart was so complex, that even with all of his years in practice, he had only seen anything remotely similar twice. Nothing could be done. We had gone in with hope, thinking how fortunate it was that in our day and age, technology and all of the advances, we surely could have her heart operated on to help her live... We left with the understanding that not only would her heart not survive a normal/ vaginal birth, indeed, it would most likely kill her before she was even out, but that her heart and lungs, as a "block" would not be able to function. She also had an esophogael atresia so that her esopagus and stomach did not connect - it was actually not possible for any of the ultrasound techs to even locate her stomach, so it was never known if she even had one. All issues combined to say that she would not survive a normal birth, but we could opt for a c-section in the hopes that she might be born alive... however, with her inability to swallow, I had such excessive amniotic fluid that it was dangerous for both her and me... there were no guarantees, of course, except that she would not live long... her conditions combined made her inoperable, and so we were faced with choosing end of life care... did we want "comfort care" or "tertiary care"? Tertiary would only work if they removed her from us immediately at birth and took her to surgery to try to put in breathing tubes and a feeding tube etc, but with her weakened state there was no guarantee that she would even wake up from the anesthesia...

I'm not exactly sure when, but sometime during the course of the pregnancy, I came to a point of relative peace... we bathed our pregnancy with prayer, trusting that the Lord has a reason for this... after so many miscarriages, we had long ago come to the deeply held belief that we don't need to be able to understand the whys of God's ways, and what a tremendous relief that brought... we can still rest in Him, still trust in Him that He has a purpose for allowing these hard things in our lives... He does not cause these things, but He does allow them.

A friend asked me a couple of months ago if I felt any anger, I had to think about that, because I didn't think I was feeling angry at all, but wanted to be sure I could answer completely honestly... in the end, my answer was "How could I be angry with God for giving me this precious gift of our daughter?" He gave us her life, for however long that may be, and He would give her His healing at the time of His choosing... No, I could not feel anger about this. Grief, yes... tears, many... trust, unconditionally. I know her life is/ was not a mistake, she had a purpose to live out, though I may or may not ever know what that purpose was or is... My job was to love her, to hold her and protect her for the life time she would be given with us... to cherish her and to value her life for the gift that it is.

At 26 weeks I heard about a young woman in our small church whose baby needed to be delivered at 28 weeks due to placental deterioration. Her little girl still lives and is growing and I understand is doing well - I had not realized that she was even expecting until the day before, she has such a tiny frame and I usually only saw her sitting at church, so I hadn't noticed her growing belly... we began to pray for her, and a niggling thought kept coming in to my head that we probably would not get past 28 weeks ourselves...

At 28 weeks, we were scheduled for an ultrasound, but I received a phone call that morning asking me to reschedule because my doctor had another high-risk patient who needed emergency surgery, and the doc would be in surgery with her all afternoon. We rescheduuled for the following Monday, and as we hung up, I prayed for the mama and baby going in that afternoon... Lord, please bring that baby out alive...

28 weeks and 2 days we went in for the rescheduled ultrasound. The u/s tech took one look at me and exclaimed "oh wow! you're..." and she stopped... realizing what she was about to blurt out, I suspect... I was getting so large in the belly that it was beyond painful - every movement hurt - I was bigger at that point than I have ever been with another pregnancy, so I finished the statement for her "huge, I know..." we smiled a sad smile together, both knowing it was due to Faith's inability to use any of the amniotic fluid, and yet her kidneys were healthy and very functional, as she continued to add to that fluid every day... That ultrasound was difficult, both for me and for the tech - there was so much excessive fluid that the tech was having difficulty getting a clear picture, so she had me move to lay on my side so that she could try to get a clearer picture of our little one. When we were finally finished with that u/s, we were ushered in to another room to wait for my doctor to come in and speak with us. When he came in, he sat quietly for a moment after greeting us, collecting his thoughts and finding a starting place for our talk, while we waited... with tears in his eyes he said that our little one faced serious concerns... and that while it was his job to help us protect her and to learn as much as possible about the many health issues she had, it was also his job to help protect me... and we had reached a point that he was very concerned... in the end, we were asked to make a decision, knowing that Faith's outcome would change little either way, but we needed to choose a date for her to be born. Soon. If we waited too long, she could be stillborn or we could risk my water breaking at home which would be deadly for her and dangerous for me, adding in the concern for how far we are from the hospital and the rugged (understatement) road that leads to our home once you leave the paved road... we're a ways out... we were given time to decide and asked to call back in a day or so with our decision.

We went home, cried and prayed, and talked over the calendar... we called a friend who had offered to sit with the rest of the kids at the hospital while we would be in the operating room, and then made our decision for that Thursday. Arrangements were made by our doctor and his nurse, the way paved for things to go as smoothly as possible, and an appointment scheduled for us to meet with the NICU doctor the day before her birth. Then we did what was needed to prepare at home, I packed my hospital bag, did laundry and packed away my maternity clothes, bringing out non-maternity and non-nursing clothes that had been packed away for so long... put together a meal plan, reorganized the freezer and brought up a week's worth of pre-made meals to thaw for Dh and my oldest to use for the week following... It helped to keep my hands and mind busy, and I could momentarily turn off the emotions that were running rampant through my mind and heart...

It surprised me how painful it was to put aside the box of nursing clothes... knowing I would not have a need for them, even if she should surprise us all and live - without a stomach, she would have to be tube fed, if she could survive the surgery. With sadness, I put that box aside and brought out my other things.

That night it was hard to sleep, and I think I cried more than I breathed... and prayed more than I cried... "Lord, I know it's not too late for you to work a miracle... but Your will be done..." that was a hard prayer that I spent the entire pregnancy learning... "Not my will but Yours, Lord... thank you that I don't have to understand in order to trust... thank you for carrying us through this, no matter what the outcome may be... Please, if it's in Your will, please let us meet her while she is still alive..." How badly I wanted to pray and tell God exactly what to do to fix everything... how I wanted to be in control and to make everything right... but that's just not how it works, and that was hard accepting... So I learned to pray for His will regardless - a harder prayer to pray and truly mean is hard to imagine...

Morning came, my husband and the kids woke up, had breakfast while I showered (I wasn't supposed to eat before the surgery, not that I could have swallowed anything anyway) and then when my husband came to check on me I asked "I don't suppose I could change my mind now, could I? Wait a couple more weeks and see how she does?" He just held me... we both knew the answer...

At the hospital, we met my friend and her teen daughter who came to help with our little ones, so that our oldest would not need to be "in charge" and could just be there to meet her baby sister and deal with her grief. I felt it would be too much to ask her to take charge of younger siblings on that day... anyway, we met and rode the elevator up together... the 11 of us and 2 of them. We were met at the door by a nurse and ushered to the L&D room where we would have time to hold and love on our little Faith and where I would spend the night. Thoughtfully, they put me at the end of a hallway, tucked in to the corner of the wing, where there wasn't much traffic and away from the birthing rooms that held mamas and their live babies. We got the kids settled, met our nurse (a wonderful and sweet woman), and when I could put it off no longer, I went in to the bathroom and put on the hospital gown and robe. That moment the full weight of what was coming hit me and I felt like I could crawl under the floor and just... hide. I stayed and cried for a bit, then washed my face and prayed for grace to get through what was coming... "Oh Lord, I can't do this alone..."

Back in the room, we went through the paperwork for the hospital, and when it was time, I walked back to the OR with husband on one side and nurse on the other... The OR staff were wonderful, quietly compassionate and supportive. The c-section went smoothly, and we were granted our prayed for miracle of meeting our precious daughter alive. They used a suction device to take out much of the amniotic fluid before cutting me open all the way, filling 3 full containers of excess fluid before continuing with the surgery, and bringing out our tiny little girl... I was surprised at how purple she was... how tiny... I've never seen a baby so very small... she had dark, dark hair like her Daddy, which was also surprising, since all of our others were peach-fuzzed at birth...

She gave the tiniest of cries and then was silent... I asked if she was alive, holding my breath while waiting for their answer... they checked her heart with the smallest stethoscope I've ever seen, and confirmed that she was alive, her heart was beating at about 40 beats per minute. I asked if she could have oxygen but was gently told it would not make a difference. The nurses cleaned her off, wrapped her in a little towel, handed her to Daddy with gentle hands, who cradled her for a moment before placing her on my chest for me to hold. So tiny, so still...

When the doctor was done sewing me up and all that needs to be done after a c-section, we were given a few moments to just hold her and breathe... and then we were taken back to the L&D room where the children were waiting to meet their tiny new baby sister. Once the bed was rolled in to place and wheels locked, the kids gathered around my bed and looked at their little sister, unsure how to deal with this tiny, purple little baby... When TJ and I assured them it was ok to touch her, they relaxed some and eventually took turns holding her and kissing her, crying over her smallness and stillness. Two hours we were given, to love on her while she was with us. I had the nurse check to see if her heart was still beating a few times, because her breathing was so shallow I couldn't tell if she was still with us or not. Each time, she gently checked, giving me a nod. As her heart slowed, her color deepened and her form became more limp. At one moment, I felt a shift of a sort in her body, and asked the nurse to check again - she was unable to find Faith's heartbeat, so went to get the doc to check. He listened for a long moment, every one of us holding our breath, then he laid his hand on mine and said "she is gone. I'm so sorry." He sat with us a moment longer before leaving the room, allowing us as much time as we needed. The nurse assured me that there was no hurry, and we could keep her as long as we wanted... she stepped out of the room for a moment, and each of the kids came and kissed our little one goodbye.

The nurse met my husband and children at the door to our room before they left, with teddy bears for each of the kids - a gift from the hospital for siblings whose baby would never go home with them... a tender and sweet gesture. Then they filed out of the room and went home to be fed, comforted, and tucked in for the night. I stayed in the bed, still unable to feel or move my legs from the spinal drip given for the c-section, and held my sweet baby's body through the night, crying, praying, talking to her and loving her... Thanking the Lord for the gift of those two hours, telling him how I wish we could have had longer... thanking Him for healing her frail body... and just holding her, knowing I would never again be able to hold her in this life. One of the most beautiful and heartbreaking nights of my life. I know she was no longer there with me, it was only the empty shell of her body that I held, but it was comforting in a strange way, to hold her still form for a while longer...

My husband wanted to come back to the hospital that evening, and I wished he could be there with me as well, but we also both knew that he was needed at home by the children, so he stayed with them... then came back to the hospital the next morning alone. We held her more, and took some pictures for keepsakes. The funeral home person came that afternoon, but I couldn't speak to the gal, and certainly could not hand my baby to her, so I handed Faith to my husband instead and he held her for another moment before placing her in the hands of the gal that came to take her to the funeral home. I sat in the bed and sobbed, the nurse beside me and crying with me... When the gal left, the nurse stepped out and DH and I just held each other and cried... when we were able to stop the tears, I put my things together in my bag, put on my shoes, and we left (the discharge things had been taken care of that morning, when I said that I would like to go home that day).

It's now 9 days after her death. Some days are just really hard and I cry a lot... other days are not quite as hard and I'm trying to get back to doing some of what I normally do in the house and for my family.

On the way home from the hospital, we stopped at Target to print pictures. We knew we would want them, so took computer and camera cord and thumb drive so that we could do that... stopped at the pharmacy to fill pain medicine prescriptions, and then went home. It's been a painful 9 days, but I wouldn't have expected it to not be... Some moments I feel overwhelmed with grief and others I think we'll be ok, it's just going to take time to get there... Many nights I wake in the wee hours and think about her, pray and cry... sleep isn't easy, but it will get better. I've spent some time writing, putting pictures on my blog, looking through the pictures we took, and have been working on a slideshow with a very special song for a memorial service we are starting to plan... it won't be anything fancy, but something to honor her memory...

This has been a hard journey to walk.

I don't know why the Lord chose us to walk this path...

I don't know why our precious little one had to have so many health problems, to have so many things wrong with her tiny body.

I don't know how long we will grieve, but I know we will never forget.

I do know that my God does not make mistakes...

I do know that Faith was a gift, and I am so thankful for her life and what we were given to have with her...

I love my baby girl, and she will always have a very special place in my heart - she will never be far from my mind...

I do know that even with all that we don't know, my God DOES... He knows, He understands... He lost a child to death, too, when Jesus went to the cross to take the punishment of death for our sins... for my sins... His Son rose again, conquering death. My daughter, though she won't rise again in this earth, has life anew also. She has been given the divine gift of complete healing, and she lives in the presence of my Lord and Savior. I will get to see her again someday, and we will praise the Lord together, at His feet, in His good time...

Until then, we continue to work through our grief. Missing our sweet baby, but with the knowledge that we will see her again... some day.

I praise the Lord in my heartache... I praise Him for His mighty works - the gift of her life, the gift of her healing, the gift of hope for someday...

When it hurts too much to praise, I lift my broken heart to Him, and know that the tears are healing as well, and He uses even those for our good and our healing.

Thank you so much, those who prayed with us through this difficult journey, who continue to offer love and prayer as we grieve, and eventually as we begin to heal... Your loving support means so much, and you are very much appreciated - thank you.

Memories

Dark hair

Tiny hands
A crooked foot
A nose so small
Eyes ever closed
Breath so faint
It almost wasn’t
A heart
So challenged
It couldn’t quite work
To keep you alive
You came out all purple
Your skin looked so dark
Your breath was so fragile
Your cry was so small

Yet the love that we carry

Is overwhelmingly large
My heart feels so full
Like it’s likely to burst
My arms ache to hold you
Just a little bit more
My tears wet my pillow
Daddy’s shoulders
My face
Each teardrop an ocean
Filled with love
For my sweet babe
Gone to heaven
Not here

No, not in my arms

Just in my heart
and my memories.

More pictures...

These are some of my favorite pictures from our final moments with our precious little one...

She was already gone from us, but the moments to hold her little body were priceless...

It was so hard to say goodbye... it still is.

 



 

 

"A person's a person, no matter how small" - Dr. Seuss

If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, put me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.

-A.A. Milne

 

For Faith...

For Faith...

My precious little one

Born so much too soon
We only had you such a short time
How my heart aches to hold you

Once more

With Daddy’s dark hair

And a body so small
We hardly had you with us    
For much time at all

Oh, my precious one

I know that you’re in heaven

I’m glad you feel no pain
And yet my heart is breaking 
To see and hold you again

Just a little more

We knew from very early      

You would not be able to stay
The doctors said you would not live
But we wanted you anyway

So very much

 

Oh my precious little girl

How sweet and tender it was
To be allowed to hold you close
Just not for long enough
 
Not nearly long enough

For all the weeks I carried you

For the moments we held you close
I am so very thankful
But what I want the most

Is more…

More time to love your little self

More time to hold your hand
More time to whisper I love you
More than I understand

My Lord, My God,

I thank you for this gift
A little one to love and hold
Please give her one more kiss.

My angel baby sweet,

Dance and play
And praise at Jesus’ feet
And someday, sometime
I’ll join you
And hold you at His feet.

I love you,
Mama

Footprints...

   

 

 

I found this poem and thought I'd share it, along with pictures of Faith's feet (you can see her left foot is normal, but her right foot was very club-footed)  and the prints of her feet that we got at the hospital.

 

----

Footprints

These are my footprints,
so perfect and so small.
These tiny footprints,
Never touched the ground at all.

Not one tiny footprint,
for now I have my wings.
These tiny footprints were meant,
for other things.

You will hear my tiny footprints,
in the patter of the rain.
Gentle drops like angel's tears,
of joy and not from pain.

You will see my tiny footprints,
in each butterflies' lazy dance.
I'll let you know I'm with you,
if you just give me a chance.

You will see my tiny footprints,
in the rustle of the leaves.
I will whisper names into the wind,
and call each one that grieves.

Most of all, these tiny footprints,
are found on mommy's heart.
'Cause even though I'm gone now,
we’ll NEVER truly part.

Author Unknown

The heart of a child...

I wanted to share a little conversation I had with Ben, our 5 year old, from the other day...  I love his tender heart... 

--

Ben: "we shouldn't talk about Faith"

me: why not?

Ben: because it makes me feel sad

me: it's ok to feel sad... having someone you love die is a sad thing.

Ben: I didn't hold her, but I did give her a kiss...

me: yes, you gave her a bunch of kisses and she loved them

Ben: how do you know?

me: (kissing Ben's cheek) did you know I just kissed you?

Ben: yes (kissing me back) did you know I just kissed you, too?

me: yes, and I loved it - just like I know Faith did

Ben: I gave Faith a bunch of kissies - they were my present to her

--

Introducing Faith Joanna

We did end up getting a couple of belly shots last night...

 

 

This afternoon in the operating room,

Faith Joanna was born weighing 2 pounds and was 15 inches long.

She came out kind of purplish, which was due to being 11 weeks premature, but her heart was beating at 40bpm by the NICU doctor's initial check, and it gradually slowed from there.

 

Back in the hospital room with all of the kids...

 

Our sweet little Faith...

 

 

Just before her last breath...

 

 

Honestly, we could not have asked for a better medical team, for a smoother surgery, for the things that needed to take place to happen...  The Lord favorably answered each of our prayers in those respects...

In the end, Faith was granted the miracle of complete healing, as she joined our Father God in Heaven, a mere two hours after her birth.  I desperately wish we would have had longer, but am so very thankful for the time that we did have...  Our sweet baby Faith is with Jesus now, where she will never know suffering, heartache, or pain.  We rest in the knowledge that our Lord and Savior does not make mistakes...  Faith is perfectly formed within His will - we do not understand why He saw fit to create her with such physical challenges, or to see fit to allow her life on this earth to be so very short - but we praise Him for the gift of her life, for the gift of the 28 weeks she grew within my womb, for the gift of her birth, and for the gift of time to hold her and love on her and have her gently pass in my arms.  Each of the children had a turn holding her - most twice - before she passed on from this world and into the Lord's eternal presence.

I praise Him because she was fearfully and wonderfully made - I praise Him for the gift of love and mercy that allowed us time with her still alive, before her death - I praise Him for her peaceful passing...  she was awake and even gave a small cry when she first came out of my womb, and she was able to move arms and legs somewhat while in TJ's and my arms, and then she went to sleep and stayed with us a while longer so that everyone had the ability to say hello as well as goodbye - all gifts, all treasured memories, even with as hard as this day has been.

Thank you so much for your continued prayers through this pregnancy...  through this birth, and now through this time of grieving.  We appreciate you and your loving prayer support as we have walked this painful journey.

 

Final pregnancy update...

We are 28 weeks along now...  and with complications to my health and concerns for the safety of delivering our little Faith Joanna alive, we are scheduled for a c-section tomorrow, March 6.

The past weeks have been a mixture of lovingly tender and painful...  both physically and emotionally.  With Faith's inability to swallow, she is not using up any amniotic fluid - but her kidneys are healthy and functioning well, so the fluid continues to build and build and build inside of me.  At this time, I am significantly larger in the belly than I have ever been with any of our full term or otherwise babies - I did not know it was possible to stretch this big and not pop -  we haven't taken a belly picture yet, but will probably do that later this evening, to include in Faith's journal/ memory book that I've been putting her ultrasound pictures and writing in, along with photos taken after she is born tomorrow.

We really appreciate all of the prayers going out for us our for our precious little daughter - I just want you to know how much it means to all of us...

TJ and I met with the hospital staff/ NICU staff this morning and then stopped at the funeral home before going back home. The hospital meeting was productive and we have a birth plan in place - they are hand picking our nursing staff for tomorrow so that it is comfortable for everyone (including the staff) and arrangements have been made to "break" the "no children" rule that the hospital currently has in place due to flu season... the funeral home was not productive, all I could do was cry - no decisions/ choices were made. We'll deal with that later - I just can't handle it right now... we both feel strongly that it is something we need to decide together, but I was just too much of a mess to be there today.

We go in tomorrow morning... surgery is scheduled for late am, though we are to be there mid-am for all the prep stuff and paperwork...

We selected a memory box that has a place in the front for a photograph and a hand or footprint, as well as a "chest" sort of inside to put special things in, as well as a Willow Tree figurine (the one called "Remembrance") which we ordered earlier this week.  The memory box and Willow Tree figurine both arrived today, before we had to leave for hospital appointments, so I opened both and showed them to the kids... explaining the purpose of the memory box, and told the kids that if they want to write letters or draw pictures for little Faith, they could, and we would put them in her special box where we will put other special things from this pregnancy and her birth... they spent most of the 2 hours we were gone working on those - with tearful presentations when we got back home...

TJ and I tried to explain, to the best of our understanding and ability, what we anticipate tomorrow looking like, so that the kids have an idea of what to expect... The older kids have understood the gravity of Faith's condition from the day we found out, as we felt it was important to be upfront and honest with them about what was going on, and what her prognosis was...  We gentled that information even more for the middle kids, and the youngest have just been told that Faith is sick and we need to pray for her.  Today, for some of the younger middle ones, it seemed to sink in... Faith won't be coming home with us... I tried to explain gently how she will be with us for a little while at the hospital and then she will go and be with God in heaven - we won't get to see her again until it's our turn to go to heaven as well... my 5 and 7 year olds didn't quite understand up to that point, and they really cried... as did I... it was hard to talk about, but I think it was important for all of us to talk about it, for the kids to be able to ask questions, and for us to get our grief out in the open as we prepare for tomorrow.

Please pray tomorrow for each of the kids to be able to process their individual grief... to find some healing in being able to hold their baby sister before we have to say goodbye... for the c-section to go smoothly and quickly so that we have as much alive-time with our little one as possible... and for all of us to have the grace needed when the time comes to hand her empty shell to the nurse. My arms ache just thinking about it. I don't want tomorrow to come, but I also know there's no way to stop it from coming... so thankful for the Lord's presence right now... it's almost tangible... He truly is near to the brokenhearted.