This week marks 2 years ago that our lives, mine especially, was shaken to the core. Two years ago today our son Knox was born at 16 weeks.
The days leading up to his birth have replayed in my mind. On the first we’d had our sonogram after not being able to find heart tones for a couple of days. I can still picture the black hole in his chest, where his heart was no longer beating. My heart still sinks when I close my eyes. On the second we met with an OB doctor I’d never met and scheduled the induction. It was God’s providence that we made that relationship with him. I’m so thankful for his care. Because little did we know that 6 months later we’d be in his office again staring at a lifeless body in my womb and scheduling yet another induction for our daughter Lily.
And then today.
I remember walking in to the hospital the day’s events. I remember how scared I was, how sad. His birth, so thankful to be able to hold him and admire God’s handiwork. Thankful for nurses who made footprints, took pictures and prayed with me. Sobbing when they took him away. I remember the OR, fighting anesthesia with fear…waking and asking before my eyes were open if I was still whole, if they’d saved my uterus. And the next day being so weak, having my first allergic reaction ever (super scary for me) and then watching as someone else’s blood made it’s way through the IV tubing into my own arm. And leaving. Pale, weak and exhausted. Hollow and leaving a piece of me behind.
As I mourned I wrote. I wrote this series as I grieved his loss. Writing was often the only time I didn’t feel completely numb. It was my therapy.
Two years has passed since. The pain is less, but it’s still there. I still wonder how different our lives would be if he’d survived. I still wonder why he died. But through his life and his death I have learned much. God taught me a lot about trust, control, grief and caring for others. I gained a new perspective as a patient and hurting mother. I learned a lot about wrestling with God…and I did wrestle, I shook my fist, I cried out and I surrendered.
It’s been two years. His footprints still hang on our wall. A heart in our family tree to mark his presence in our family. And brothers who still talk about him…and a brother who bears his name (Zebediah Knox). A brother who will learn about the one who came before, the one he will meet in Heaven.
God is faithful. He is good even when we’re grieving the loss of a child…even when it doesn’t feel like He is good. I am thankful for the joy that He has shown me on the other side of this loss. I am thankful. Losing Knox allowed me to be teachable, mold-able…God used that experience to shape me more to the image of Christ.
So today, I remember the birth of my son whom I will meet for the first time with his sister and two other siblings in Heaven. What a glorious day that will be! Today our family remembers our Knox and we are thankful.
Tag: Knox
One year–not forgotten
I have written this post and re-written this post several times in my mind. Sometimes I find myself at a complete loss for words and sometimes I could write a book. I don’t want to forget…
A year ago today I had a baby, Knox Cornelius. I was 16 weeks pregnant when he was born and that day was one of the most difficult days of my life. And that single event seemed to have kick off one of the most trying years we as a family has ever experienced.
I will never forget what it was like to see the sonogram confirming our fear that he was gone. I can still vividly see what that screen looked like with an empty silent chest. It is all still very vivid and very real. There isn’t a day that has gone by that I haven’t thought of Knox, how that pregnancy ended and the fears that came along with losing a baby.
God used the experience of losing not one, but two, babies in the last year to teach me a lot…to grow and stretch me…something that is never easy or comfortable.
As I sit here writing this I am 23 weeks pregnant with my third baby in a year. I thought I would be writing this post with a new baby in my arms…she was due November 15 but that pregnancy ended as well in May, on his due date. The trauma of so much loss in a year has had a profound effect on me and how I’ve viewed and navigated this pregnancy. Kerry asked me the other night if I still thought about and feared losing this baby. Through tears and held back sobs I answered “Every day”.
Yet I know that God is in control, I know that He has a purpose for what ever the outcome will be and it is so hard not to be afraid. I trust that God will provide what I need every moment. God helped me navigate the anger (and I was angry!) and worry that followed in the days and weeks after Knox died. He continues to guide me through the anxiety that comes with being pregnant again after loss.
I have learned much in the year that has passed. I have made connections with people and have been able to offer support to people I wouldn’t have without Knox. We have been able to teach our sons the gift of life and how important babies are. We have had conversations we would have missed, they understand why we grieve our babies and that we anticipate seeing them again in Heaven. We were also reminded how deeply we were cared for and I learned to let others take care of me (something that was incredibly humbling and difficult to embrace).
Most of all though, I have learned to rely on God more fully. It has been reinforced that I am so not in control. My job isn’t to direct the events of my life, but to be obedient to what and where God has called me to be. He has used this time to strengthen my trust in Him and to remind me that comfort comes from Him…not doctors, hospitals, money or even health.
In losing Knox, God prepared me and built in me the faith that I would need to navigate the coming year… yet another loss that was to come in May, quitting my job to stay home, moving to a new community and the transition that comes with that and a new pregnancy (that seems to be going beautifully).
I do wonder what life would be like had he lived, I wonder what he will look like when we are reunited and I wonder what else I have to learn yet as part of losing a child (I am continually learning about this territory I find myself in). I wonder still, what the purpose has been…if it was just to grow me or if there is more. I can’t say that I’m “thankful” in the typical way, because I’m not thankful I lost a baby or that I had to learn the lessons I did…but I am thankful for what God has done in my life despite (and because of) the hurt.
14 weeks
Today was a big day. Today I turned 14 weeks pregnant. Most people would say “Yay! You’re at the *safe* point, you’re in the second trimester now!”. But that is far from the truth I know.
I have learned in the last year that no point in a pregnancy is *safe*. Sure, risk goes down, but you’re never *safe*. I have experienced 2 early losses (before 6 weeks), but until last December, bought into the myth that the second trimester was the safe part.
But…
Our daughter Lily was born on May 19, we found out she had died on May 18…the day I was 14 weeks pregnant. Our son Knox died when I was 15 weeks in December. With those losses, I felt like my innocence with pregnancy was lost. I knew after they died that no point is “safe”.
And today I turned 14 weeks with my current pregnancy, I am 6 months from my due date. We are living in a new community and I don’t have a healthcare provider yet. I haven’t been able to find a midwife who will be willing to travel to where we live for a home birth and I don’t have a doctor who will let me VBAC here yet. God has always provided the right person to care for us when we needed them and we trust He’s going to do it again. So for now, I am doing my own prenatal care and monitoring my weight, blood pressure, heart rate and baby’s heart beat every week. It’s been going well. I have easily found the heart beat every week for the last month. And I have been peaceful for the most part.
Then today came.
14 weeks, it seemed like I was giving my anxiety over to God every moment of the day. I tried hard not to think about what today meant to me and why it was significant. The boys remembered what today was, they prayed specifically for the baby this morning, they asked when we would listen for the heart beat.
I debated for a long time today. I was trying to decided if I wanted to listen alone or with Kerry and the boys here. I thought about sneaking off to my bedroom while the boys were playing and Kerry was gone to a visitation. But that’s how I learned Knox and Lily had died. I was just listening at home and couldn’t find their heartbeats, I was alone both times.
So tonight, just before bed Kerry suggested we try together to hear our little one’s heartbeat. It is always such a highlight for Zeke to hear the baby. He gets so excited to hear “his baby”, but I didn’t want him to not hear it…I was scared. I pulled the doppler from the closet and laid down on the living room floor. I prayed.
I prayed, as I have every day, that God would protect this little one, that we would be able to hold this little one in our arms…alive…and that he/she would be able to be born at home. I have been able to tell my uterus is growing, which means the baby must be growing. And then we listened. Daddy and I held our breath and we listened.
We heard my heartbeat and the blood vessels feeding my uterus and the placenta. The slow woosh, woosh beating in time with my heart. And just below, in the background we hear the light sound of baby. The faint gallop of hoof-beats. Slight relief, but I want louder…I want more…I want to listen until this baby is born…I want it to be the soundtrack of the next 6 months.
We wait and move the doppler…slow woosh, woosh…then galloping. Strong, loud, steady…my baby’s heart is still beating. I am thankful. I close my eyes in prayer. A prayer of gratitude and thankfulness. Thank you God, for the life of my baby. That this life is still here and we can hear the heart beat. Thank you God!
We listen for a few more minutes and are thankful for each beat we hear. Eventually the baby kicks and moves away. Then in a moment…my mind immediately goes to fear again. Knox had a heartbeat at 14 weeks. My baby is alive…for now.
Ugh! Where does that come from? Why do I let it in to steal the joy and blessing of a heart beating within me? I start to quote in my mind the scripture verse we’re memorizing as a family. “ Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.” Philipians 4:8. Fear is not true, honorable, right, pure or any of the things mentioned in this verse. Fear is the language Satan speaks and uses to control.
There are many times I have to remind myself to be thankful for the blessings I have been given, to be thankful here in the moment for the blessing I have now. To remember, not to get caught up in the fear of what might happen or what has happened in the past. I know that today my baby is alive. I am joyful, hopeful and so very grateful.
2 Timothy 1:7
For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.
Off guard
I was caught off guard today by my emotions.
I was going through some bins in our basement and came across our costume bin. As I was sorting through, towards the bottom there it was. The dress-up dress I have been saving since before I was married for my “someday daughter” and my breath caught in my throat. My eyes filled with tears at the reminder of the daughter I have lost and the son I still grieve. Both whom I long for.
I cried.
I grieved for the daughter I won’t be holding in November. I felt hot anger about the fact that I have a bin that is labeled “Lord willing girl stuff” and the womb where I carried my daughter is empty. I’ve hidden away a hand knit dress that a co-worker gave me when I was in California. I have a headband with a ridiculously gigantic flower on it and a pink onesie with little daisies around the collar. It’s all packed away in the back of the closet, waiting and hoping for a baby.
It hit me this morning…what if all it does is sit there and wait? What if there isn’t another baby, what if that daughter never comes? What it? And the gravity of the grief came crashing down. I sat on my floor and grieved my children, my empty arms and the unknown ahead.
I sat and felt sorry for myself. But as I wallowed I saw…
Around the corner peeked two little eyes. In came a sleepy eyed little one carrying his sippy cup. He curled up on my lap and patted my arm. He looked puzzled at the tears on my cheeks. I inhaled and snuggled the warmth of his little bed wrinkled cheek. I thanked God for the blessing of my children. All of them, the ones I get to hold and the ones I don’t. He reminded me, while I grieve I should rejoice. I should delight and I should trust.
I was caught off guard today, but the Lord did not let me fall.
Proverbs 3: 5-8
5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart
And do not lean on your own understanding.
6 In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He will make your paths straight.
7 Do not be wise in your own eyes;
Fear the Lord and turn away from evil.
8 It will be healing to your body
And refreshment to your bones.
Why?
That’s really the big question in all of this isn’t it? Why did it happen? Twice? To us? Why would a loving God let something so horrible happen?
Here is what I’ve come up with as I’ve tried to answer this question for myself.
First of all, it isn’t His fault. It is easy to blame Him for the bad things that happen, but truthfully when we blame God we are blaming a perfect and holy God who created a perfect and holy world for the unholy and sinful things we have done. When God created the world, it was perfect, it was sinless and it was beautiful. In fact, God says it was “very good” (Genesis 1:31). But it didn’t stay that way. Adam and Eve chose to disobey God and follow the advice of Satan. Because we are all part of Adam’s race, we have been living with the consequences of his disobedience.The moment that sin happened, perfection became imperfection and “good” was replaced with “not so good”. Adam moved away from God’s perfection and took all of us with him.
But praise God that we have a way to be redeemed! The cool thing about it is that when we trust that Jesus Christ died on the cross for our sins, paying that penalty we’re brought into a relationship with God better than the one Adam had! My husband preached a sermon on this very topic several weeks ago in Romans. You can listen to it here.
The truth is Satan is a thief (John 10:10 “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly). That’s his strategy, to steal the good and joy that God created, replacing it instead with false promises and destruction. Jesus rescued us from all of that by paying the penalty for our sins (Romans 5:6-8 For while we were still helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. 7 For one will hardly die for a righteous man; though perhaps for the good man someone would dare even to die. 8 But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.) We still have hurt and pain because we’re still living in a fallen and sinful world. We know that God will win the war, but there is still a battle going on here on earth, we still live on an earth where the enemy has freedom.
So really, this whole thing happened because we live in a sinful and fallen world. That’s the big picture answer, but to be honest as a grieving mother that didn’t bring me much comfort. It seems too easy, not personal enough. I want to know why this happened to me.
I have decided and am still learning about why I have lost 2 children within 6 months, why I have been dealt this horrible blow to my “mommy ego” and my ability to carry a pregnancy. One of the reasons, I think, is reflected in 1 Peter 1: 6-7. “6 In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, 7 so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ;”
God’s goal for my life isn’t for me to be without trial, easy going, nothing touches me. His goal for my life is that He will be reflected, I will become like Him in character and heart. God uses the pain and the hurt I have encountered to refine my character. To teach me grace, forgiveness, compassion, endurance and to develop a heart like His. In doing so, His work is able to be reflected in my life. It is to bring Him glory, not me. God is not the cause of my pain, He is not the orchestrator of my hurt, those things come from living in a sinful world. But He uses those things to bring about change in my life, in my heart, in my soul. He uses them for His purpose.
Do I know what that purpose is? Nope. I know that it will bring Him glory. I don’t know what big lesson I’m supposed to learn or what I’m supposed to do if anything other than be humble and be ready. My prayer since the loss of Lily is different from my prayer after Knox died. When Knox died I prayed desperately for the hurt to be taken away, I prayed that I would be able to have another child, I prayed that it wouldn’t happen again. My prayer this time has simply been “use me”. I want to continually be in a place where I can be used by God. I have prayed that God would use this experience, this grief, the lives of my children in Heaven to bring Him glory and that I would be ready, humble and obedient to do what He asks of me.
That is why this has happened.
I am not strong
I am just like you. Going through the loss of our son Knox in December and Lily this last weekend does not make me strong. It makes me reliant on God.
The loss of my children has brought me to my knees. It has shaken the very core of who I am in some respects and has made me question why God allowed this to happen to our family. Before I lost my children, I felt sorry for women who experienced loss and wondered how they were even upright and talking. I couldn’t imagine what that mourning must be like and I was sure I could never endure it. When Knox died that little wall of safety during pregnancy came crashing down and completely shocked me. I grieved not only the loss of my child, but the loss of my security too.
When Lily died, I wasn’t naive enough to believe that there was that magical “safe” point in my pregnancy. I knew it could happen. But it doesn’t make the hurt any less. I still grieve the loss of my child, the rest of my pregnancy, her birth and watching her grow up. I grieve the loss of inhaling deep the smell of a new life, cuddling that tiny warm body and staring in awe at her beautiful face while she sleeps. In my selfishness, I even grieve the fact that I have spent about 6 months in the first trimester…the morning sickness, the food aversions, the just feeling rotten and I have nothing to show for it except the ashes of my children. It isn’t fair, I don’t understand it and I grieve.
The loss though, and my ability to endure it has nothing to do with me.
I am weak.
I have moments where I just don’t think I can go on. I get so angry at the unfairness of it all. I have struggled with bitterness towards women who got to have babies they didn’t want and complained about when they got pregnant. I have struggled with bitterness towards the joy of others. I am ashamed to say how many times I have wanted someone to hurt just as bad as I have. But my mourning shouldn’t take away someone else’s joy. My grief is my journey. It is a journey I am on as a mother, but I am not alone.
The loss of my children has brought me to the point where I realize there is no one left for me to rely on but God. Only God can share my grief, only God can help me reconcile my feelings and forgive. Only God can give me the strength to take one step after another. No one else. Not Kerry, with all his leadership, love and compassion can identify with what I feel down deep inside. Not my children or future pregnancies will redeem the feelings of bitterness and anger I have felt. Only God.
Psalm 121: 1-4
1 I will lift up my eyes to the mountains;
From where shall my help come?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.
3 He will not allow your foot to slip;
He who keeps you will not slumber.
4 Behold, He who keeps Israel
Will neither slumber nor sleep.
My reliance on God is the only thing that has allowed me to continue on this journey. The help from my God, is what enables me to wake up every morning without crumbling under the tremendous weight of my grief.
Jesus has conquered the pain of this world. Because we still live in a fallen world full of sin, we still experience the pain and grief of losing loved ones. BUT…Jesus has conquered the world and all the pain in it. We may not experience freedom from that pain in this life, but we will certainly experience it when we die if we trust in Christ as our Lord and Savior.
John 16:33
33 These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.”
We will have tribulation, but we are to be courageous, we are to be peaceful because Jesus has overcome this world. That is where my hope comes from, that is where I draw strength to move from day to day. I still hurt, I still get angry, but I give those feelings to God. I ask for His strength. Not strength to make it through the month, the week or even the day. I ask for the strength I need to make it through the next hour, sometimes the next minute or next conversation. And He delivers. He doesn’t often give me more than what I need, but He never gives me less than what I need.
Psalm 16: 1-2
1 Preserve me, O God, for I take refuge in You.
2 I said to the Lord, “You are my Lord;
I have no good besides You.”
I choose to walk daily trusting in God for the strength I need. God has a purpose for these challenges, I know that He is using this journey to make me into the woman He wants me to be. I surrender daily to His will, even if I don’t understand. It is His strength, not mine that allows me to make that choice and move forward one step at a time.
Sneaky
It caught me this week. It snuck up on me when I thought I was doing okay.
Last weekend marked 2 months since Knox was born. I thought I was doing okay, but I have been really angry this last week. I mean really angry. And I’m not an angry person. I’ve been angry at God for taking Knox from our family. I have been angry about women who are complaining how uncomfortable they are in their pregnancies. I have been angry at people asking for my time. My internal dialogue has not been nice or kind. Thankfully my “filter” has been engaged most of the time and the comments running through my head stay there and don’t spew angry stuff all over those around me.
I know that anger is a normal part of the grief process, but to be honest I thought I’d moved through it and it was over. I would rather be a crying mess part of the time than be an angry person. So in an effort to get some of this whole anger stuff out I’m going to share some of the things I was thinking this week.
I broke down in hot tears several times this week while I was driving to school or coming home. I would be praying to God about whatever was on my heart and it would just come bubbling up from out of nowhere. I would just let Him have it. I am angry that we had to go through this. I am angry that our family lost a child that was so wanted, desired and prayed for. I don’t understand. I know God doesn’t have to tell me and I trust that there is a purpose for our loss, but I don’t get it now and that makes me angry. I feel robbed.
I struggle with feelings like God “owes me one” because He took our son. In fact, there was one point this week as I was driving that I remember shaking my finger and saying “You owe me God.” Pretty irreverent, and totally not my call. God doesn’t owe me anything. He sent His son to die on the cross for my sins. His sinless perfect son suffered so that I could spend eternity with Him. He doesn’t own me anything…He’s already given me the best gift there is. But…it’s hard not to feel that way in my flesh.
But you know…because we’ve decided to let God plan our family it is up to Him whether we’re blessed with more children or not. As much as I don’t want to end on a failure (and it does feel like a failure), it’s not up to me. Part of trusting Him means we’re okay with it even if He doesn’t add to our family. To be honest, I’m not at that point yet. I don’t want to be done being pregnant. I don’t like the thought that my first home birth could also be my last. I’m not okay with that. I’m still learning and “discussing” this issue with God. I know it’s not my call, but I’m praying for peace.
I’ve been angry pregnant women. Something I thought would never happen. I love pregnant women. I’m angry that they get to have their pregnancies (and eventually their babies) and I don’t. I have been really irritated lately when I see or hear a pregnant woman complain about how “uncomfortable” she is or how bad it sucks to be sick. I would give anything to feel those things rather than the black hole in the middle of my chest. I really just want to grab them by their shoulders and say “Just be THANKFUL! Cherish it…You don’t know how special it is.” I get it though. I don’t blame them, it’s not their fault, but I have a different perspective. My view is jaded now.
My prayer has been this last week for God to take the anger away. And it’s still here. I don’t know why. I don’t know if it’s something that I just have to work through or if it’s to teach me another lesson (I’m guessing it’s this one). I have made the deliberate choice this last week to not let my anger affect how I treat those around me. I have prayed everyday, sometimes before I speak every sentence, for God to give me kind and compassionate words for those around me. To not let it spill over into how I interact with my children, my husband, my friends and my students. He has answered my prayer. For that I am thankful.
I have resolved to not let my anger consume me. I’m not denying that I feel it, but it will not be the only thing I feel. I have been reminded in Proverbs 16: 32 “He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty, And he who rules his spirit, than he who captures a city.”
I pray that I will be restored emotionally. That I will be able to rest in Him. That the anger will go away and be replaced with the kind of peace that only God gives. I trust that God will do that for me because He loves me. I pray that one day He will bless us with another baby. That I will be able to deeply inhale the smell of my newborn child and that we will rejoice in the blessing of watching our boys welcome a sibling. But I also pray that if that isn’t His will that He will give me peace and will heal my heart. I trust that will all come in His timing.
In the mean time though, I am praying that the anger that rages inside me will be replaced with peace and understanding. I will look at things from a different perspective. I will remember to cherish the blessings I already have. That I won’t be so anxious to look for the next one, that I forget about the ones I have right in front of me.
Ecclesiastes 11:10
So, remove grief and anger from your heart and put away pain from your body, because childhood and the prime of life are fleeting.
2 months
Two months ago tomorrow (Feb 3) was the day Knox was born. In many ways it seems so far away, but like it happened yesterday. It seems like we’ve had such a busy 2 months but also that time is moving slowly.
Most days are “good” days, but I think of him every day. Most nights I sleep through the night without waking up reaching for him. Most days I don’t cry out in grief to God. Most days are fairly normal…most days.
I am teaching OB this semester, I think of him often and where I would be in my pregnancy while I’m preparing my lectures. I was illustrating a point today to my students while pointing to my belly. In my mind I was thinking “this would make so much more sense if I were pregnant” and then I thought “I would be if Knox hadn’t died”. It caught me off guard in a way. I can’t talk to the students about miscarriage or pregnancy loss without stuttering or having pause. It always creates such an awkward moment.
I’ve paused more lately when someone asks me how many children I have. I thought for awhile I’d be okay saying 4, but now it seems weird to me. I always have to think a little bit about how to answer, like I’m counting in my head. Do I say 4 or 5? Does the person asking really want to know? How am I going to explain it? If I say 4, I feel a bit guilty later, like I’m leaving him out or like he wasn’t ever really part of the family. But if I say 5, there is always an uncomfortable moment for the other person and I feel badly that I shared. I’m not sure there is a right answer to the question “how many kids do you have?”…which seems weird for me to say. I mean I’m a mom, I should know how many children I have.
But which ones are enough to “count”. Do I count Knox because I gave birth to him and we got to hold him? Do I leave the other 2 children I lost in early pregnancy out (I lost a baby in October of 2003 and November of 2009)? Were they any less my children than the others I’ve had? It gets messy…and touchy for those around me. They’re uncomfortable. It would be different if I were talking about the death of a grandparent, but the loss of a child is a completely different beast. It touches a raw nerve, it hits a different part of the heart…it punches you in the gut.
I think the one of the difficult parts of losing a baby is dealing with everyone else. I don’t blame them. I mean what do you say? You can’t say “well at least they had a fulfilling life” or “What a legacy they left”. I had a stranger comment a couple weeks ago…”Oh! You have 4 boys! Are you hoping the next one is a girl?” In all honesty…I was thinking “No, I just hope the next one is born alive.” But thankfully my *filter* kicked in and I just said “Nope, we’ll take whatever we can get…besides you can’t order them anyway.”
I’m thankful though, in a way. I’m thankful that God has used this experience to grow me. He has taught me more reliance on Him and less on me. He has brought me a peace. Initially I was incredibly fearful that I wouldn’t be able to have more children or there would be lasting consequences of the D&C I had after Knox was born. But God has brought me peace to replace the anxiety. I desire more children most definitely, but I’m not worried, I’m not anxious…I’m content. I pray daily for the blessing of other children, and I pray that they will be born at term and healthy. But I don’t worry if it will happen. God told me to trust Him and I do.
God tells me in Psalm 37:7 “Rest in the LORD and wait patiently for Him:” I am resting.I am trusting. I am waiting.
God has been good to our family. God has blessed us beyond expectation. God heals us. I am thankful for His grace and His love. His timing is perfect. Even the timing of loss.
Why I still feel Blessed – My Husband
In closing out this year and some of my “why I still feel blessed” posts, I have to talk about the blessing of my husband. When Kerry and I started dating (14 years ago!), I don’t think anyone believe it at first. In fact, I distinctly remember having several people ask me if I was really dating Kerry Rosfeld (and I know there were those who asked him the same thing). We were, and still are in a lot of ways, opposites. Kerry was quiet and shy, I wasn’t. At. All. But here we are after over 10 years of marriage and we couldn’t be better matched. I am so thankful for God’s grace in giving me the husband He has. We may be opposite in a lot of ways, but we complement each other well.
The night we found out that Knox had died, I was so devastated. The girl doing our sonogram didn’t have children and while she was trying to be helpful said “At least you have 4 boys at home” as she told us goodbye. Kerry squeezed my hand tighter and without saying a word let me know he understood. He held me in the lobby of the hospital while I sobbed before we walked together, crying, to the car. He prayed with me in the parking garage before we went home to tell the boys.
Until that night I don’t think I’ve ever seen my husband cry. Not that he’s un-emotional, he just doesn’t cry. I’ve seen him stare in awe at our children after they’ve been born. I’ve seen him get a little shaky after each one and have to sit down…not because he gets grossed out, but because the gravity of the whole “we have another baby and how amazing is this little creation” thing hits and he sits down to take it all in. But he cried the night we lost Knox.
He cried the night he was born, he grieved the loss of his son. It moved me. It reminded me just how much he loves each one of our children before they’re ever born, before he can even feel them move. As a L&D nurse I can’t tell you how rare it is for dad’s to have that “buy in” to their babies before they’re born. But my husband loves each of our children from the day he finds out they’re coming, and I am so blessed by that.
He made difficult phone calls to tell loved ones and friends the journey that lay ahead. It wasn’t easy for him, but he did it because he loves me and he knew that I would never be able to do it. He didn’t have the words to describe how we were feeling or what was happening, but he asked for prayer and told our story.
He reached for my hand every time someone would walk into our room while I was in the hospital. We were occasionally asked by an unknowing person if we were excited about our new baby or if we knew if it was a boy or girl, Kerry would squeeze my hand and then hold me as I broke into tears when that person left. (I didn’t have the heart to tell those people why we were being induced so I didn’t…I just said we didn’t know and we were a little nervous about the induction). Kerry asked the nurse for a sign for our door to let staff know we had a loss so that I didn’t have to answer questions…he was my advocate.
When I was being induced, Kerry was my rock. He helped me labor during the induction. I wanted to avoid pain medication because I wanted to be as aware as possible of the things going on around me and when the baby came I didn’t want to be drugged. So I labored and Kerry supported me, he rubbed my back, he held my hand and he let me lean on him. He took notes about the events of the day, just like he has on every other day we welcomed a child into our family.
When Knox was born, I was nervous about how it would affect Kerry to be honest. Because I worked in labor and delivery I had seen babies born at 15 weeks before, I knew from a nursing stand point what was going to happen and what to expect. I can’t imagine going through that for the first time with the baby being your child. Kerry asked questions throughout the process, and when Knox was born…Kerry reached for him to hold him. He marveled at Knox, he counted his fingers and toes (and looked for the family trademark bent pinky that all of our boys have), just like he had for all of our other children. I was so blessed to see him cherish our son. Not that I expected anything else from the man I married, but it was such a blessing to me. The pictures we have from that night are so special, Kerry took some of them, but the ones I love the most are the ones of him holding Knox. The look of love for Knox on Kerry’s face is priceless to me. I have been blessed by a husband who loves me and loves our children.
I have been blessed by a husband who I can be totally honest with. I could be completely vulnerable with my emotions and I knew that even when he didn’t know what to say he’d listen. I am a verbal processor, so I needed to do a lot of talking and still do about the whole process. Kerry listens so well. But even more than that, he is able to talk to me too. He’s not afraid to let me know what he’s thinking or how he’s doing emotionally. I’m so thankful I don’t have to pry or worse yet…wonder.
I have been blessed by a husband to ministers to me spiritually. He prayed with me, read scripture to me and helped me find hope in a tough situation. When he was explaining to our boys what happened and about the events that took place in the hospital, Kerry continually turned back to scriptures. He used this difficult situation to show our boys the sufficiency of scripture for our everyday lives. I have heard Kerry pray with our children about healing our hearts and my body, they have thanked God for the doctor who cared for me, they have prayed for more children. I am so thankful for his godly leadership and the example he shows our children.
I have thanked God numerous times for bringing Kerry and I together. God has carried us as a couple through the loss of a child. He has used Kerry to bless me, to remind me of His love, to remind me of His grace. While we may be opposites in a lot of ways, we are a perfect fit and I am so thankful for the man God gave me to spend the rest of my life with.
Why I still feel blessed — Children
I am blessed with 4 wonderful boys here on earth and 1 sonin Heaven. For that we are thankful. Enough said right? It would be so easy forsomeone who talks as much as I do. J
Losing Knox has reminded us just how blessed we are, to experiencethe joy of children here on earth and also the anticipation of being reunited withones we never got to see grow up here on earth.
I think having our 4 boys has made grieving the death ofKnox easier. They have helped keep me from being swallowed by grief, but alsoin their childlike ways have helped me see the other side of losing a child,the hope that often follows such a difficult time. In explaining what happenedwith Knox to the boys we were also able to explain the hope that we find in God’spromises and why we can look forward to meeting Knox when we die. We have had theopportunity to talk about God’s promises for those who honor Him.
We have also talked about the hope of having more children. Zekehas been the hardest to explain the loss to. He and Otto had been praying for ababy (a sister specifically) since August. The boys were so excited about a newbaby and delighted to hear what their new sibling was doing in my womb, whatwas growing and developing, how big he was getting and what he might look like.Zeke would always pull out the measuring tape to see how big the baby wasgetting. When we talk about Knox now, Zeke shakes his head and says “baby…no…inHeaven” and we say “yes, the baby is in Heaven…won’t it be great when we get tosee him someday?” Zeke, then says “yeah…baby…another baby…” and points to mystomach. He prays daily for “another baby” when we pray at meal time or duringour Bible time. We always respond with “yes, if it’s God’s will we will haveanother baby.”
One of the things I have been reminded of is how preciousour wonderful children are, and how precious little time we have with them. Godhas numbered each of our days, we don’t know how much or how little time wehave with each other. He has numbered our days, even when those days end beforewe are born. .. and even if the Lord allows my children to grow to an old age,they are only in our house for a short period of time, and they are little foreven less time. I need to make sure that I’m spending my time wisely as amother.
I have been blessed by the smiles my children have given meeach day. Titus thinks everything is something to smile about, and it warms myheart every time I look at him and he gives me a cheesy grin. I have beenblessed by the prayers of Otto and Zeke, their prayers for healing for mommyand prayers for more children if it is God’s will. I have been blessed by thehugs from Gabe, he is a young man with few words about the events that havehappened, but he seems to know when I need a hug.
I have been blessed to be reminded to delight in my childrenmore and get frustrated less. I have been blessed to have a reason to get up inthe morning. My children don’t wait for breakfast, even on the days when Iwanted to stay and bed and mourn the loss of Knox.
I feel so blessed to have the children that I do. Knowingthe joy of watching a baby grow and learn is such an awesome joy. There aretimes that it has been bittersweet to think of all the things I’ll misswatching Knox do, but in the same breath I’m so very thankful that I’ve beenable to see those things in the children I have here with me on earth. I can’timagine the pain of a mother who loses child after child before they are bornand to never know the delight of holding her own baby. I am so very thankfulthat while I have known the pain of losing a baby, I have not known the pain ofan empty womb.
I feel so very blessed to have the opportunity to bereminded what a privilege it is to raise children. What an awesomeresponsibility it is to bring them up to love God and love others. It’s like Isee my children in a different light since this happened. Not that I didn’tcherish them before, but somehow it’s different. I am seeing my family in adifferent light, I am blessed to see them through the eyes I was intended tosee them through. Through the eyes of that God intended a mother to have. Forthat I am thankful.