Hannah To Hannah
Spring 1999 All rights reserved. Copyright 1999. Issue #14
Providing "Christian Support for Fertility Challenges" including infertility or the loss of a child at any time from conception through early infancy.
A quarterly publication of Hannah's Prayer Ministries.
Table of Contents, Issue #14, Spring 1999
Issue Theme: "Mother's Day, Father's Day, in-between Generation: Parentless/Childless"
Pergonal the Bear - essay on Mother's Day, infertility, infant death
Jenni's Journal - Living "In-Between" - Thoughts from Hannah's Prayer Director, Jennifer Saake
The Grandma and the Child - pregnancy loss story
Men's (Father's Day) Writings:
- No More - premature stillbirth poem
- Will? - infertility poem
- Infertile Husbands
- Baby's Farewell -pregnancy / infant loss poem
- Dearest Lydia - stillbirth letter
Sorrows & "Samuels" - Baby Memorials and Celebration Announcements
Empty Cradle; Open Heart - infertility and miscarriage story
Newsletter Submission & Reprint Information
A Mother's Day Essay
This essay was written for a memorial service held by my pregnancy loss support group. It is not specifically Christian in tone because our memorial services are nondenominational thus I did not wear any particular spiritual "hat" when writing it.
Once upon a time, I was four years old. My mother was pregnant with my little brother, and I had accompanied her to a doctor's appointment. I remember that my mother had to have a shot - more likely, she had to have some blood drawn. In either case, it involved needles. "I'm not ever going to have a baby," I told my mother, "'cause I don't like shots."
Fast forward 34 years. Now I'm the one with the doctor's appointment, only it is to find out why I'm NOT having babies. Despite my objections as a four-year-old, I never was needle-phobic, but I wasn't blasé, either. It seemed that, in order to have a baby - or to find out why I wasn't having them - lots of needles were going to be involved. I winced and looked the other way when the needles for blood draws pierced my arms, and was glad that I had "good" veins.
Since all the blood work, tests, and surgery kept coming back normal (or presented minor, easily correctable problems), the shot issue progressed to a more intense level: injectable drugs to stimulate my ovaries. Both my husband and I were a little put off by the size of the intramuscular needles, but fortunately my "frustrated doctor" husband became quite skilled at giving the injections. It just became part of my evening routine. And since my ovaries overstimulated on Pergonal, I had to start injecting myself with another drug to keep my ovaries from going out of control. I'd come a long way from the little girl in the obstetrician's office.
Right before I started using the injectables, I attended a fertility conference, and picked up some of the "freebies" that the drug manufacturers and pharmacies were giving away. Among these was a little teddy bear, who had a red bow tie and movable arms and legs. I named him "Pergonal," after my medication, and he became my mascot.
Pergonal - the drug and the bear - did its job: on my second cycle, I conceived! Although the pregnancy had its discomforts and anxious moments, it was mostly trouble free. At 19 weeks, I discovered that the little one that I was just starting to feel in my womb was a normal, healthy girl. My husband and I were elated, and decided to name our daughter Ivy. The baby shopping I had been longing to do for years finally became possible, and I began gathering clothes and toys, storing them in a box in my closet. Friends who rejoiced with us at Ivy's imminent arrival made contributions to the box as well.
Pergonal the Bear joined the other items in the box. he would become Ivy's first teddy bear. I imagined telling her, at three or four years old, how special Pergonal really was: how Mommy had wanted a little girl for a long time, and finally went to see a special kind of doctor. I would explain that Pergonal was the name of the medicine I took that finally helped me have her, and that it involved taking lots of shots (here I imagined her eyes growing large, as I invoked her awe and respect). I would pull her onto my lap at that point, tell her how much I loved her, and give both her and Pergonal a kiss.
Fast forward again, only this time to Week 23 of my pregnancy. Preterm labor, combined with a weak and rapidly dilating cervix, brought all our dreams to an abrupt halt. We could not stop her birth, and as I held her miniature perfection, I wept and told her I was sorry. She tried to grasp my fingers with her tiny ones, struggled to breathe, and died in my arms. In an instant, the world went from being a place full of hope and possibilities to being unsafe and malignant.
Over nine months have passed since Ivy's birth and death, and no new child has yet appeared in my womb to provide some of the healing and hope that I seek. Last year I celebrated Mother's Day, just a week away from my second trimester, with joy and contentment. This year it will be a day of mourning, as the contrast between this year and last is almost more than I can comprehend. My own mother died of cancer nearly twenty years ago, and her loss now resonates in a whole new way. I am a motherless daughter and a childless mother. Like a kite whose string has snapped, I feel cut off from both my past and my future.
Pergonal the Bear is still in the box in the closet. My "drug box" - full of ampules, syringes, and hope - rest on the shelf above. Although my journey toward motherhood has been more of a struggle than I ever dreamed, dream on I do. The vision of a little girl on my lap is still palpably real, just as Ivy's brief touch will always be. The hole in my heart is unique - Ivy-shaped - and will never be completely healed. But I continue my quest, convinced that a flesh-and-blood child - not just a dream child - will someday hear Pergonal's story, and will mend the yearning place in my heart.
Thoughts from Hannah's Prayer
Director, Jennifer Saake
Living
in-between
It was a month before our wedding when I received the news. I knew it was Granddad's time to go Home. At age 97 my great-grandfather had been praying to join his wife in Heaven for twenty-two years. I was happy for him, but how I ached for myself! A huge part of that pain was the fact that we had already chosen the name "Ruth Marie" (my great-grandmother's name) for our first daughter. I had long anticipated the look in his eyes when I could lay my Ruth in his frail arms someday, seeing his face wreathed in wrinkled smiles as he saw reflections of his beloved Ruth in her features.
Dear Ruth,
As I write this letter, your father and I have not even gotten married yet.
We have often talked and dreamed and prayed about you and the brothers/sisters
of yours whom we hope that Lord will bless us with in His perfect time…
Only three days ago, my Granddad Hugh died… It was very hard on me
not only because I loved him so much, but because he was my link to your
namesake. We used to take long walks together and talk about his Ruth Marie.
He showed me a picture of her and I look almost exactly like her except for my
mouth…
I was named for Grandma Ruth (my middle name), and several in your father's
family share this name as well. I have always loved the name for both the
sentimental value of family tradition as well as for the beautiful story of
faithfulness and love found in the book of Ruth…
I write this letter in hopes that some day we will be blessed with your
birth, life, and acceptance of Christ as your personal Savior. I will enjoy
sharing this letter with you when the time comes.
Love,
Your Mother
and Friend,
Jennifer Ruth
That letter was written nearly seven years ago now. Granddad's death was my first experience with "living in-between." We have since said good-bye to Rick's grandfather and grandmother, our first daughter, Noel Alexis (we chose a unique name for our miscarried child, saving "Ruth Marie" for our first daughter who reaches live birth), and five children we were unable to adopt.
Writing about her infertility, miscarriage, and grandmother's death, Joy shared my feelings when she wrote, "It was hard for me to say good-bye when I wanted so much for my grandmother to see my family grow before she left this earth. I wonder if others dealing with infertility and miscarriage find themselves holding on to former generations when they are unable to carry the family line through their own children?"
"Do you have a mother?" This was the question that caught me by surprise a few weeks before Mother's Day that first year Hannah's Prayer was in ministry. What was the voice on the other end of the phone asking? Didn't she intend to inquire if I was a mother rather than if I had a mother? After all, the painful questions about my own parenting status were ones I had fielded many times over recent months. But this question was a new one. What kind of answer was she looking for? Of course I have a mother. Everyone has a mother!
My new friend went on to explain that her own mother had recently died. She was now alone, a member of the in-between generation. A childless mother and a motherless child, she would be facing this Mother's Day with a double emptiness in her heart. The years of infertility now intensified by the knowledge that even if the Lord should choose to open her womb, her mother would never know her grandchild this side of Heaven.
When a dear friend lost her father in January, my heart cried out, "Lord, no!" Not only did I ache for Julie, but the thoughts of what it would be like to loose my own Daddy were overwhelming. Soon after Julie called with news of her Dad's death, my Mom called to say the doctor suspected breast cancer. I am thanking the Lord that I can report to you that Mom is fine, no cancer! But that scare did a lot to help me put my thoughts in perspective, being thankful for the blessings God has given me rather than only dwelling on those He has withheld.
Will this Mother's Day and Father's Day be hard for us? Yes, when we are longing to be parents and have no children to fill our arms, the celebration of parenthood will probably always be painful. But this year my prayers will not only be with others who, like us, are aching to parent children on these days where motherhood and fatherhood are so publicly honored. This year my prayers will also be on behalf of my many friends who face these holidays without their own parents or grandparents, especially those in-between, with no family ties to the future or the past.
If you would like to be listed in a future Pen Pal Connection, please send a request specifying that you want to be listed in the newsletter as a pen pal. Include a brief explanation of your story and contact information (mailing address and/or phone number). If you want only your email address listed, submit your story online at http://www.hannah.org/penpal.htm. Penpal information is available to anyone who reads our newsletter in postal, email, or web site format, so please be sure you want your personal information made available to so many people around the world before you request such a post!
"I am 31 and have been married for 10 years. My husband and I have been unable to become pregnant due to PCOS (polycystic ovaries). We have chosen not to seek fertility treatments and I would like to correspond with anyone who has a similar situation and is not seeking fertility treatments. I could use mutual encouragement." Kelly Smith, 570 10th Street, Windsor, CO 80550
"I am 25 and have two children (ages 4 and 8). I have had three miscarriages in the last year. I am not on 'speaking terms' with our Father. I need to converse with someone more spiritually mature than myself. I just need someone 'safe' to talk to." Shawna Petty, 46435 Palomino Road, Aguanga, CA 92536 or email sawa@hotmail.com or cheeboh@yahoo.com.
Cynthia Smith of Melbourne, FL posted a pen pal request in our last newsletter. She would like to thank everyone who responded as well as offer her apologies to those of you she has been unable to answer. She was so overwhelmed with the volume of responses that she was unable to keep up with all the mail! Proof that our Pen Pal Connection works, sometimes too well!
Children of Promise Presents Sojourn In Sorrow: A Retreat for Christians Experiencing Infertility, featuring Curtis and Carol Hoke. May 7-9, 1999, Jumonville, Uniontown PA. For information or registration please contact Colleen Zeigler, RD# 1 Box 408, New Castle, PA 16101 or 724-654-2242.
"Heart's Desire" meets monthly at homes in Birmingham, AL, to share and encourage one another. "Three ladies serve as 'leaders.' One has been through extensive infertility treatment resulting in one biological child and one adoption. The second has been through infertility twice resulting in births. The third has been through extensive infertility resulting in one birth. All three had very trying experiences and just wanted to be available to encourage anyone going through the same thing." This Christian infertility support group began meeting January 1999. For information contact Cindy Trivett through The Church at Book Hills, 3145 Brook Highland Parkway, Birmingham, AL 35242. (205)991-0507. (This is not a Hannah's Prayer chapter.)
"The
Grandma and the Child"
Maybe a
Picture Of Heaven?
This is a tribute to a wonderful lady, and a memory of our
little boy who died. God seemed to be in the midst of both their circumstances.
This story was inspired by her wonderful lengthy life, his incredible short
one, and what could be happening in heaven right now...
- Marette Jorgenson
In the last few waning hours of her life, the family surrounding her frail body lying eaten with cancer, seeming to go so slowly, yet so quickly. Looking back, life takes forever to get there, and then suddenly you're stepping over into eternity. She listened as her family cried, said good-bye's, the love in her heart almost bursting, yet in some odd way, her soul was ready for the last leg of the journey.
Just when it happened she couldn't remember. When her senses awakened, she found herself in a field of the most beautiful wildflowers she had ever imagined. The fragrance invaded her every breath and she sharply gasped as she realized life was over. She had crossed the line and this was what she had waited for all her life. There before her stretched the most beautiful rainbow, engulfing the sky, mountains towered in the distance, with the incredible scenes from every vacation she could ever remember.
"This must be heaven," Fran thought to herself, "there could be no other explanation." Gingerly she stepped from beyond where she found herself. Walking on through the meadow, she took in everything there was to see. It seemed like miles of endless beauty. Beyond the meadow was a garden, large rock arches with fountains and gazebos of vines and climbing flowers. Roses grew perfectly all around her, and as she stepped on the ground, her feet seemed to instantly become as they had been before age and illness took their toll.
As she walked on through the eternity of beauty, she noticed people. People, unlike what she remembered, but vaguely familiar. Perhaps it was the faces that bore a unique radiating glow, like almost a halo surrounding them. She noticed that most people were strolling like her, just in awe of this place where they had found themselves. As she walked toward the garden, she noticed behind it were the steeples of a castle, something like remembered in movies when she was young. Their breathtaking spires, proclaimed majestic dwellings. Their golden hue boldly lit up the sky. Walking ever so slowly, she took in everything her eyes could behold. A voice startled her. Beside her was a man, no perhaps an angel. The smile on his face was ever so soft and permeated her soul. "Welcome Fran. Please make yourself at home."
"I will," was all Fran could muster, filled with emotion and puzzlement. The angel was gone as quickly as he had come. She looked around but could see no one. No one except a young child, perhaps 5 or 6 years old, over by one of the gazebos. He was relaxed, just sitting and watching the people as if he had nothing better to do. Fran turned and walked over toward him. "Hello," she said quietly. "What's your name?"
"My name is Normi," his voice, quiet but firm. "I hope you are enjoying your first day in heaven."
"I am," Fran replied, amazed at the maturity of the little man. "And how long have you been here Normi?" she asked.
"I'm not sure," was the reply. "I guess all my life." The blond hair tousled by the gentle breeze and the blue eyes deep and rich sparkled with the energy of a child but tempered by something Fran couldn't figure out.
"Have you been all around and seen everything Normi?" Fran asked softly.
The little head nodded up and down vigorously. "Oh yes Ma'am," he replied. As he began to talk, the sparkle evolved into enthusiastic conversation. He talked about the golden streets and said she just had to see the fountains and the meadow where the lions and the lambs lie. And then the little boy softened his voice, "Fran, have you seen Jesus yet?" His eyes changed from glistening to an awestruck wonderful look.
"Why no Normi, I just came here. I would love to see him most of all."
The little child put his hand in her hand and squeezed every so gently. "Would you like me to show you around?" A tear came to the edge of Fran's eye as she tenderly took his hand. She thought of her own great-grandchild, such a precious one to leave behind, but here was someone whom she could take under her wing. "I would love to hear more! Would you be my guide?"
The little boy's eyes lit up with excitement but then he paused.
"What's the matter honey?" Fran asked.
Normi hesitated before he went on. "Its just that I don't stay away too long from here because there's someone I want to see and I just am afraid that when they come, I won't be here to meet them." Fran's heart was breaking as she watched the child as he continued on. "You see I died right after I was born and I never got to see my Mom and Dad and I'm just waiting here for them." His eyes misted over lightly as he spoke.
"What do your Mom and Dad look like?" Fran asked.
"Oh, I never saw them, but I listened to my mom sing to me a lot when I was in her tummy and I will know that's her when I hear her voice."
Off in the distance a choir began singing. There was an ever so gentle change in the wind and the air seemed to be restless. Fran turned to watch the others walking toward the garden and beyond. "Normi, what's happening now?" Fran asked the young child who had turned and was watching the skies as the brilliant colors seemed to illuminate every inch of space.
"That's telling us Jesus is seated at the throne," and taking her hand the two of them began walking along toward the throngs of people beginning to gather. For the millions of people that seemed to be everywhere, Fran felt as if it were just her and the child. The corner of the garden opened into a veranda of color and before them stretched out to meet before a large throne, not like anything she had ever envisioned, but strangely familiar. There seemed to be endless faces of people, yet oddly enough, she felt she was there alone. The one whom has spoke to her earlier, smiled briefly, then turned and as he walked away; Fran thought for sure somewhere, sometime, she had known him.
The slow rise of singing brought her back to the throne where a Person stood and automatically, as if cued, all those gathered bowed down. Fran found herself, heart throbbing, watching, keenly aware that He was looking at her with intimacy, as if she were the only one before His throne. "Ma'am, that's Jesus," the child softly tugged on her hand. "Why does everyone bow down?"
Fran couldn't answer for a moment as the emotions flowed out and tears streamed down her cheeks. The child was standing there in odd puzzlement. He had always known the glory, never seen the world of evil, never felt the cruel hatred of sin. Fran watched as his small eyes adored everything in sight, so innocent, so much like the One to whom all were giving praise, glory, and honor.
It seemed like just a moment, but time stands still in heaven, and it was a short amount of that infinite time before Fran realized she was indeed, alone with the Lord. The others had melted into the endless frame of eternity, and He was there. Instinct caused her to reach out her hand. The Lord caught her in an embrace and just held her for a moment. Life was almost something that had never been. "Thank you Lord," were the only words that came out of her lips.
It was then that she noticed her empty hand. Startled, she glanced to her side and found herself alone. "Where is the child, Lord?"
"I see you have met our little greeter," He smiled His simple reply.
"Yes, he was there to meet me and then we came to see you." Fran's hand felt suddenly heavy and useless, frightfully aware that with the little one she had company, now she was alone.
The Lord smiled, "Do not fear, he's just back checking the gate."
"Oh yes, he told me about waiting for his parents." Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about how it would feel to lose a child. Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she turned as the Lord beckoned her to come with Him. They walked through the gardens to a long aisle of roses. Each flower seemed to radiate the colors with much more resilience than she had ever remembered. As she looked closer, she saw seemingly endless tiny roses, surrounding the larger rose bushes. They were almost too small to see, but the intricate beauty caught Fran, holding her breath as she inched toward them. Only then did she notice a name. This name wasn't ordinary, and she almost instinctively said it out loud. "Marette," she turned and looked toward the Lord. "I know her."
The Lord smiled and nodded. "You know a lot about her, except perhaps one thing. Those roses signify tears. I save all the tears that you cry on earth."
Fran turned from the Lord and looked back at the roses. "Why would you have chosen to show me her tears Lord?" Fran asked as she softly touched one of the fragile blossoms.
"There are reasons why, known only to those who cross over. Those tears were shed because of a great loss in her life."
Fran wiped a tear that tricked down her cheek. She hadn't known Marette well, one of those people who comes into your life. First it was someone at church where Steve and Susie attended. Then during one of their stays in Rochester she was invited to play on the worship team with her. What a feeling, and what a unique treat. They had corresponded, Marette and the family had come and shared in a concert at her home church. And of course, when she was in the hospital, Marette and the kids came, brought goodies… But why her? Why here? Why now?
Just then a little hand pressed back in her own, and she turned as the child, breathless from running, stood beaming. "I see you found my mama's flowers," he said quietly. "Sometimes I come and smell them and listen to hear if I can hear her singing."
Fran turned around and realized the Lord was gone. She and the child were standing alone. She knelt down and put her arms around the little one and he responded in turn. They embraced gently in the midst of the garden. Fran pulled away and wiped a tear from the little boy's cheek. "I thought there weren't tears in heaven," she said as he rubbed his cheek gingerly.
"They are only happy tears, Ma'am," he replied. " But why are you crying? These aren't your tear flowers, they are my mama's."
Fran looked into his eyes and saw that familiar face, the same look of three other children she had seen not that long ago. "Normi, I know why your mama cried those tears," she told him softly.
"You knew my mama?" he cried out. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't understand how these things worked until the Lord led me to the roses, and I saw your mama's name. You were the reason for these tears."
Normi looked at the flowers and then at Fran. "Why would my mama cry. I'm in heaven."
Fran knelt down and the two of them sat for hours and talked about why and how love hurts and the blessings of children. Though the child didn't really understand most of it, Fran's heart felt better explaining as she knew how much she missed those she had left, those who would be coming after. And like Normi she would often go and check by the gate. Normi asked questions about his sisters and brother and mom and dad. He could not relate to life on earth, but it seemed to satisfy his curiosity.
"Ma'am, since I kind of know you, or my mama knowed you, and since you kind of knowed me, or you knowed my mama, do you think we could wait for them together? Sometimes I get lonely up here. I don't know really what earth is like but since you came, I haven't needed to sit by the gate so much. Maybe the Lord brought you up here a bit early to help me not be so lonely. I know it was one of my mama's prayers that somebody would keep an eye on me and love me till she came. Guess that's why I wait in the meadow. I want to get that feeling like you talked about that causes the tears."
Fran reached out and took the child's face in her hands. "You and I will wait together. And we'll have the Holy Spirit send a message to your mama telling her that Grandma Fran's taken over." Together they began walking back through the garden toward the castle on the far mountain. In the distance the Lord looked back, saw them together and smiled.
You see, prayers aren't always answered with a simple yes. Often it takes waiting for His plan. A child needed a grandma, and a grandma came to be in heaven just in time.
By Tim Riley, after the death of his daughter to premature stillbirth.
The laughter of a child playing with some balls
The
ingenuity of a little girl building with sticks
The comforting of a mother
when she falls
This will happen no more
The hopes and dreams of her future
The Christmas lights
with "Ooohs" and "Aaaaws"
The love the parents have to
nurture
This will happen no more
But in the future, we will see all in that place
Whose
life was too short for this world
And in heaven there will be joy and grace
When
Jesus says to pain and suffering - NO MORE.
"Dealing with infertility is a trial I don't understand. Only God knows the reason for each individual. Here is a poem my husband wrote. This is the way he lets out the grief."
Will he be the only one for us, our son the football star?
Will she be the only one for us, our daughter the prom queen?
Will the only child of ours these things never be?
Will
it only be our voices to fill our house with cheer?
Will our child never walk the earth?
Will we always be
together but always all alone?
Will we be fruitless in pursuit of our heart's desire?
Will
the title "parent" be one we won't acquire?
I've learned to say, "God, Your will not mine."
But
my heart aches to see Your grand design.
Tears shed, prayers prayed,
Lives led, games played.
I want these for my children, Lord. I want a chance.
Or
has our window passed? Are we victims of our circumstance?
A chance to be a Dad to children of my own.
To hear their
voices when I'm talking to their Mother on the phone.
To teach them about your Son, about the price He paid.
How
He defeated death and left the tomb where He laid.
How I ache to have a child to carry on my name.
To share
Your love with others and glorify Thy Name.
Lord I pray for strength as I am faced with this test.
Lord,
I'll trust in You always, You know what is best.
Your will God, not mine.
- John Tower
Dear Hannah's Prayer,
Thank you for the article "How to Encourage An
Infertile Friend" in your Summer '98 issue. It was well worded,
insightful and articulate, and will be very valuable to us. I've written a "P.S."
that is representative of many men's experiences with infertility. May we
continue to find peace in God's arms.
Your Brother in Christ,
John
Field
Your infertile friend has a husband too! While he is not the one whose body longs to bear a child or feels that his identity is as linked to fatherhood as his wife's is to motherhood, he feels a profound sense of inadequacy at not being able to ease his beloved's pain. This may be especially true if he is the one whose body is the cause of their infertility.
While his wife is doing her best to hang on to the roller coaster, he is frantically trying to find a way to stop it. Of course that is impossible, but he won't know that for a while. And during that time, odds are great that there will be damage done to their relationship that, without a lot of hard work and the prayerful support of friends and family, may prove to be fatal to their marriage. Unfortunately, even if the couple is Christian, the marriage mortality rate is high because infertility strikes at the heart of ones faith.
Often the Word, which was so often the place to go for comfort, becomes an enigma. The door to the Strong Tower seems to be locked. It becomes increasingly difficult to have "family prayer" with his wife because the relationship he has with the Father appears to have been forsaken. The "WHY" in Jesus' profoundly lonely cry from the cross, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" ("My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"), becomes his own. Christ loved us enough to die for us, but a husband realizes that as much as he loves his wife, even his own death would not provide the solution to this problem.
A man's impotency, whether physical or circumstantial, rocks him to the core. Heavy stuff, Huh? Don't worry, most men won't even go there, let alone talk about it. Just know that this "journey" will most likely be the most impactful one of his short life on this planet. If you don't know what else to do for the husband of your infertile friend (and unless you've "been there" please don't offer "advice" to him as your well intended words will likely be more hurtful than helpful), just uphold this man in prayer! Thanks for listening.
I'm a male OB nurse, a poet, and also a pastor. I wrote a
poem some years back which I have given to many mothers who have lost their
children in the womb or shortly after.
She was sobbing on the pillow, as the night about her crept.
"It's not fair that God should take you," was the whisper that she wept.
Futile now, the preparations, baby showers, hopeful dreams…
Wasted, all the pains of labor, muffled moans and stifled screams.
Senseless seemed the fervent pushing, ending with a mournful cry:
Forty weeks of expectation for the baby that would die.
In the midst of grieving passion, as she languished on the bed,
Tears had trickled down to dampen where the pillow met her head.
Bearing him had left her weary, now remorse had made her worn,
Worn and weak with restless hours, since her little boy was born.
So she tried to close her eyelids on the shadows in the room,
Finding needed sleep to drown the empty cramping in her womb.
And she dreamed that he had lingered, staying with her, at her breast,
Not to nurse, but just to nestle, to be cuddled and caressed.
Such a joyful little spirit, swaddled in an angel's cloud…
It amazed her when he stared and spoke these gentle words aloud:
"Darling Mother, you are precious! You have carried me so well!
You can't see the way you've blessed me, but eternity will tell."
As he snuggled in her bosom, she could feel his body grow,
First a toddler, then a child, with his angelic face aglow.
"Mother," said his shining spirit, "you bestowed a gracious gift.
I received the greatest send-off…it was like a special lift.
Holding me with hope and longing, you encircled me with love.
See how fast your welcome nurture helps my growing up above?"
Then he soared past adolescence on into a manly state,
Standing by the bed she lay in, saying, "I can hardly wait!
Heaven is so vast and lovely, every part is rich and true.
When at last you get to come here, I will show it all to you!
You must also meet the Master who prepared it from the start,
He has known the loss you're feeling, and He waits to heal your heart."
When she tried to cling to him, as he began to fade away,
She was only clutching blankets at the dawning of the day.
She arose to face the morning, prayed a prayer and read a Psalm,
And reflecting on the vision, sensed God's peace and felt His calm.
Though her arms were still as empty as they were the night before,
Hope was mingled with her sorrow, and she feared her grief no more.
© David L. Watton, 7/1/93, from Poems Between
Darkness and Light
A Daddy's Letter to his Stillborn Daughter
My Dearest Lydia,
My heart hurts. It is aching as I write this letter. I will never hold
you in my arms again, but you are being held in the arms of my Father and the
Father of us all. I will never walk you down the isle to give you away to
another man, but I give you away to the Best Man in the Universe, our Lord, who
has you in His arms.
Though I held you only a short while, I will always cherish that time. I
held you when I held your mom as you developed in her womb. I was the first to
see you born; I gasped, and my heart broke. I couldn't hold you at first. I
was awestruck and yet I could not bring myself to pick you up. You have a
wonderful mom: she encouraged me when I should have encouraged her. I picked
you up and held you in my arms and I saw you in a new light. You were beautiful
and most precious.
You had a button nose, perfect mouth, hands and feet. Though your eyes
were gone, they were pretty I am sure. You had cute little ears and your hair
was a beautiful brown, just like mine. I am just as sure you would have been
the belle of the ball. You would have made any man proud to have you as a
daughter and I am sure a wife.
I may ache for a long time. But I rejoice knowing that your spirit is
beholding our Friend and Father, the Great I AM! My heart hurts, but I am at
peace.
Your Loving Earthly Father,
Mark R. Bradbury
© Mark and Susan Bradbury, March 24, 1998
Baby Memorials and Celebration Announcements
"I prayed for this child [Samuel], and the Lord granted me what I asked of Him."
I Samuel 1:27
(* Indicates that a donation has been made to Hannah's Prayer in honor of this child.)
In Loving Memory of:
Johnathan Riley miscarried 5/90 (on Mother's Day), Jackson Phillip miscarried 9/96 (Catherine's birthday), Ezra Lee (twin) miscarried on Catherine's parents' anniversary and Sarah Michele (twin) lost to ectopic pregnancy - both 8/97, Hannah Marie miscarried 1/98, and Joshua Oran miscarried 6/98. Catherine and Vincent Darsey, Houston area Hannah's Prayer contacts, have no living children.
*Matthew Richard and *Joshua Lennart, sons of Chad and Britta Bergacs, born still 12/11/97.
Elijah Franklin, beloved brother of Zana (age 7) and son of Valerie and Darryl Love, born still 10/26/98, pre-eclampsia.
Baby Radakovitz, (conceived on Clomid) miscarried 6/97, and Thomas, (Fertinex baby) ectopic pregnancy 11/98. Jodie and Andrew Radakovitz are Hannah's Prayer chapter hosts in northern California. They have been struggling with infertility for three years with no living children. "I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, And in His word I do hope." Psalms 130:5
Lydia Marie, born still 3/21/98, Terri, miscarried 9/17/98, and Zoe, miscarried 11/11/98, children of Mark and Susan Bradbury and siblings of Josiah, Trenton and Emmalee. See "Dearest Lydia" above.
Nathanielle Noelle, daughter of Tim and Elanine Riley, lost to premature stillbirth 12/9/98. See the poem "No More," dedicated to Nathanielle, in this newsletter. "Although we didn't have a chance to know her, we loved her. She did not live long enough to make a mark on this world, but her short life in the womb has made a permanent mark on our hearts."
In Joyful Celebration of:
Dominic Michael, born to Cassandra Johnson 7/17/97 after miscarriage.
Kathryn Hope, born 7/12/98 to Lorraine Liggera after infertility.
Austin Hagen, born 11/12/98 to Shelley and Daryl Thurman after infertility.
Veronica Rebecca Fern, born 11/21/98 to Ron and Cheryl Palmer after infertility.
Benjamin Matthew and Jackson Henry, Clomid twins, born 12/28/98 to Jon and Charell Anderson and big brother Christian after a long pregnancy of drug therapies and complete bedrest for 6 months. The Andersons also remember Baby Anderson (miscarried 1/31/94) and Joseph Robert (stillborn 9/8/96). "Thank you for all of your support through our grieving and now rejoicing!"
Gift Given to Hannah's Prayer Ministries in
the Name of:
* Glenda O'Connell
If you would like your baby listed in a future newsletter, please
send us your loss, adoption, or birth announcement including names (of baby,
parents, etc.), dates, any previous struggle with infertility or loss, and any
other brief information you would like us to consider including. If you
would like to make a memorial or celebration donation to Hannah's Prayer in your
child's name, we will be happy to note that in your announcement. You must
specify that you would like your announcement printed in the newsletter or we
may unintentionally overlook publishing your precious baby's information.
I never thought I would be writing this testimony, much less live it. But, my goal in sharing my most personal thoughts with you is to provide you with hope and encouragement. Like many of you who are reading this, I never thought my husband and I would be one of the countless thousands to struggle with fertility problems. When I was a young adult, I had my life all planned out - all my dreams for the future lay before me. I'd wanted to be married by the time I was 21, have my children by the time I was 30, and retire by the time I was 50. But, God saw a different future for me. I didn't get married until I was almost 25. And God chose someone for me that I probably never would've chosen for myself. My husband, Jeff, and I are so different in personality, but God has used both of our strengths and weaknesses to mold and shape one another.
In our eight years of marriage, we've been through a lot of ups and downs, like any other couple. Our most painful struggle has been that of trying to conceive. Within the last three years, we have become pregnant twice, only to miscarry both times. Through all of the struggles, through all of the questions and tears, God has proven Himself faithful. I have come to know Him more intimately than ever in the last two years. Looking back, I would not trade His plan for mine. You see, I can see only a small part of the picture. But God holds all the pieces to the puzzle. I don't have it all together yet, but I'm learning to trust Him for each new day, whatever it may hold.
My hope is that somehow, through what I share in my testimony, you will see a part of yourself mirrored here, that you will be able to identify with someone who's been there. Just know that through all of your unanswered questions - through all your frustration, resentment, and anger - God is still there. His love is so unconditional that He accepts us just where we are.
One passage of scripture that has become very real to me is
Psalm 23:4 : "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and staff, they comfort me."
Death truly is a valley. Death doesn't have to be the physical death of a
person. It can also be the death of our hopes and dreams. Through the deepest
days of darkness, God has given me resurrection life. I would never wish the
pain of infertility upon anyone, but I also would not trade where my husband and
I have walked. Through the valley of grief, I have come to know a deeper level
of intimacy with my loving Father. I am learning to trust Him, no matter what my
circumstances. Open up your heart to God, and He will speak to you. He will
guide you, through all of the questions, through all of the frustration. He will
never leave you.
I was raised in a Christian home by parents who taught me about God at a very early age. Although I knew about Him, I never established a personal relationship with Jesus Christ until I was eleven. I remember being in Children's Church one Sunday at my local church. Outside of our meeting room was a bulletin board filled with pictorial testimonies of children who had given their hearts to Christ. As I walked out of Children's Church that Sunday, I remember stopping to read some of the printed testimonies. As I read them, something in me began to cry out to God, "If you are real, please show Yourself to me."
I went home that day and thought a lot about some of the things I'd read. Later that evening, I went to my room and knelt down beside my bed with tears streaming down my face. "Dear God, please come into my heart… be my Lord and Savior, like You are for these other kids." I just cried and cried as God lavished His love upon me. After some moments had passed, I went into the living room where my older sister was playing the piano. My mom and dad were sitting on the couch. I walked over to them, tears still streaming down my face, and told them that I wanted to know Jesus. They prayed with me. That was the beginning of life's most meaningful journey…
As I grew into my teenage years, my family eventually started attending another local church. There was a couple at this church that really had a desire to disciple young people. Our church was small enough that I was one of the few youth in the church for almost two years. The youth leaders, Dave and Marilyn Dayton, poured their lives and ministry into my life during that time period. I grew tremendously in my walk with God and became more sensitive to the move of His Spirit in my life.
As the years passed and I grew into young adulthood, I met a gentleman who was called into the Ministry. We dated for about 8 months and later became engaged. I had always dreamed of marrying a man who was called of God to minister, someone whose preaching talents I could complement in music ministry. After we'd been engaged for about 1½ years, it became apparent that our lives were moving in different directions, and we broke the engagement. That was the first major test of my faith in God.
I truly wanted to believe in my heart that this young man and I belonged together. After we broke up, I felt that I'd disappointed God, that I'd let Him down, in my ability to hear His voice. About three weeks after we called off the engagement, we both went on a missions trip with a group of teens from our church to Scotland… On one particular day during our trip, we, as a team, spent some time together just ministering to one another. God gave a word to Dave Dayton for me that day: "Surrender the desire, and you'll see that what I have for you will be greater than what you could ever think or imagine." "Great," I thought. "God is going to work everything out with my ex-fiancé and I - it's just a matter of His timing." Well, that was not the case. We never reconciled. But God was faithful. About six months later, just when I was least expecting it, he brought someone else into the picture.
After returning from our missions trip, our youth group hosted a Puppet and Drama Convention for other area churches. After the convention, Dave and I were cleaning upstairs. He came over to me and said, "Michele, you know what you need? You need a man in your life." I promptly responded, "Dave, that is the last thing I need." About two weeks later, he introduced me to a coworker named Jeff Gehbauer. Well, we all ended up going out on a double date. After that date, I'd decided that Jeff definitely wasn't my type! But, after a few months of sitting at home by myself, Jeff called on me again, and I decided to go out with him again. This time it was different; we really enjoyed being with one another, and getting to know each other more. And so a new chapter of my life began to open. Three years later, Jeff and I were married on July 14, 1990.
My plan was to be married for two years, and then start working on a family. But as things turned out, Jeff lost his job in '92. He decided to go back to school to get his computer programming degree, so I had to support us while he was in school. In '94, Jeff graduated and accepted a job. The following year, in Aug. of '95, we decided to start trying to conceive. I thought it would be simple. After all, I had no reason to believe we would have any trouble.
After about 14 months of trying, we finally had success in Oct. '96! We were pregnant! I can still remember the look of utter joy on Jeff's face when I told him the news. We just stood there in the kitchen, hugging each other with excitement! Everyone was so happy to hear of our news. This would be the first grandchild on his side of the family in almost 12 years, and the first grandchild in almost 4 years on my side of the family. Other couples in our church announced their good news of arrivals due the next year as well. We each began to look forward to all the excitement the next 9 months would hold.
On Dec. 19, I began to have some light spotting and cramping. I went in to see my doctor, and he did an ultrasound. He stood there by my side, looking at the screen for what seemed like hours. Finally, he looked at me and told me there were no signs of a heartbeat. Either I wasn't as far along as he'd thought, or something had gone wrong with the pregnancy. I could either wait another month until my next visit and perform another ultrasound to see if there's a heartbeat, or just wait things out to see if I would in fact miscarry. I left his office in tears, wondering how I was going to break this awful news to my husband, who just weeks before was ecstatic at the thought of becoming a father. When he came home from work, I told him the news. He was crushed. The next few days were quite stressful.
As time passed, however, I did begin to miscarry on my own. When it finally began to happen, I went into the kitchen and told Jeff, "Honey, it's starting to happen, and there's just nothing we can do to prevent it." Immediately, he began to weep. I just put my arms around him, and cried with him. Then we both prayed, and committed the baby to the Lord. It was so difficult. But yet, I'd never felt so close as a couple. This was the first time in five years of marriage that we'd had to face death together. How could this be happening, and why was it happening to us? Why were others allowed to carry their babies to term, and not us? We'd prayed so long for a child. We were doing everything right. We loved God and we were serving Him; we were tithing faithfully; we were trying to live godly lives. None of it made sense! We tried to compose ourselves as best we could to make the trip to the hospital. Later that night, I had a D&C.
We came back home, empty handed and broken hearted. We felt like we were having a nightmare and should be waking up at any moment. How could we experience such excitement one minute, only to be gripped by pain and heartache the next? It wasn't fair! How could we get through the Christmas holidays? How were we supposed to celebrate the birth of a King when we'd just experienced the death of our child? In ourselves, it was impossible. But God in His faithfulness carried us ever so gently. I remember writing in my journal about the hours I'd spent at the hospital: I can still remember laying on the table alone in the emergency room, sobbing - feeling like a huge part of me was about to die. It was as if I knew what lay before me was final and inevitable, but yet wanting desperately to hold on to the little one that had been growing inside of me.
Night after night, I cried myself to sleep, feeling an emptiness within, but yet I felt God's peace. In my grief, I felt His arms around me, holding me - sustaining me. Sometimes when I'd cry and think about our baby, I'd just pray and ask the Lord to hold our little angel in His arms. I didn't understand why God had allowed this to happen to us, but someday I would. I only knew that at that time I would grieve, and hold on to God. I knew that a new year was coming, and that healing would come with time.
The days passed, and with time, healing did begin to come. It was the beginning of a new year, but I didn't look forward to it with anticipation or excitement. I still longed to be pregnant again. Nothing could seem to fill the emptiness I had inside. I continued to ask God for another child. Month after month went by, with no success. Frustration after frustration birthed anger and resentment. I began to question God, to question if He'd even been hearing my prayers. Why had He given me this painful desire? Were we even supposed to have children? Question after question, but no answers.
I remember going to my cousin's baby shower in November of that year. Why was she chosen by God to be blessed with a child? Another cousin of mine was also at the shower, and had announced news of her second pregnancy. I couldn't put it all together. It didn't make sense. Where was the justice in all of this? It was all I could do to get through the baby shower and get back home.
When I came home, I let all the emotions go. Jeff and I talked for a long time. It was mostly me that did the talking; he listened. I know he must've been frustrated too. It was hard for him to see me suffer emotionally month after month, and not be able to do anything about it. In his frustration, he silently began to question God as well.
I finally fell asleep that night. I remember waking up to turn over in bed. My chest felt very tender. I had felt this sensation before… could it be? Could I be pregnant? I tried to quiet my anxious mind and get back to sleep. The next day I decided to take a pregnancy test. The results were screaming at me: "You're pregnant!!" Oh, I couldn't believe my eyes! I just began weeping. My heart began racing. Fear set in immediately. I had desperately wanted to be pregnant - I'd prayed so long for this, but could I handle the possibility of another heartbreak again?
The next few weeks were another big test of my faith. Jeff and I both tried not to get excited about the news. Neither of us wanted to be hurt again. Week after week, I wrestled with fear. We both tried to act as if nothing exciting was going to happen. I wanted to be happy about the pregnancy, but with each twinge, with each strange pain, I worried that I was going to miscarry again. I went down for prayer on a Wednesday night after church, and from that night on, God gave me tremendous peace, and a Scripture verse: "I am confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Phil. 1:6
That verse was so comforting to me. God was showing me that He truly was in control, and that He would be faithful to finish the work He had begun in me. Throughout the weeks ahead, I meditated on this verse. At a little over six weeks, Jeff and I went in to have an ultrasound done since I'd miscarried once before. We saw the heartbeat on the monitor! How exciting!! We even got to take a picture of our new little life home with us.
About two weeks later, on Dec. 12, I awoke to find that I was bleeding lightly. Unlike the first time, I didn't become alarmed. I told Jeff that I was just going to go to the doctor to make sure everything was OK. He met me over at the doctor's office, believing that everything was going to be all right. The doctor told me that everything looked good internally. However, he was concerned that brown blood is usually a sign of old blood, and that it could be coming from farther up in the pregnancy. So, he decided to do an ultrasound. Jeff went with me to see the ultrasound. I didn't have a good feeling. The staff members were quiet. I was starting to relive some of the same scenes I'd gone through the first time. When my doctor did the ultrasound, he looked at us and said, "Well, guys - it looks like it's happened again. I'm so sorry." Jeff and I just burst into tears. I think that Jeff took it much harder than I this time. I'd never seen him cry so hard. How could this happen again? We really thought everything would be OK this time. Why did this have to happen again at Christmas?
Once again, I prepared to go to the hospital for a D&C. After the nurses finished prepping me for surgery, Jeff came into my room with tear-filled eyes, took my hand and said, "Honey - we'll just get back on the bandwagon and try again." If I'd ever questioned his love for me before, I knew at that moment how deeply he loved me. He was so caring and compassionate and nurturing. Once again, we were faced with death and grief. But once again, God carried us through the valley of death.
As the months passed, Jeff had gone back to work and tried to go on with business as usual, and so had I. We both tried to be strong. We talked about our grief and emptiness a few times after the miscarriage. Sometimes, he'd just hold me and let me cry, and sometimes he'd cry with me. Even in the midst of such pain and agony, God was drawing us so close to one another. We held on to each other and to God.
During those agonizing months, I watched friend after friend announce the news of their pregnancies, and saw healthy children born to them. It just didn't seem fair. What did I not learn the first time around that God was trying to teach me this time? Where had I failed?
Time after time, I found myself at the altar of sacrifice, laying down my desire for children, begging God to take it from me. He never did. Instead, He allowed me to walk through deep valleys of doubt and discouragement, so that I would know a greater aspect of His grace.
Before our struggles with conceiving, I would hear reports of couples who had lost children, unaffected by their pain. But now, suddenly I found myself feeling their loss, weeping with them, even if I didn't know them personally. I found myself crying out to God on their behalf, asking Him to be their comfort and peace. Never before had I known this aspect of compassion. But now, I see what God has been doing in my heart and in my life.
Over the past two years, I have learned to draw close to God like never before. I have had to depend upon Him over and over again. It has been a painful journey. I feel like I've had open-heart surgery, but it's been a precious journey. My passion and desire for God are stronger than ever. I want to honor Him with my life and with my testimony. Jeff and I still continue in our quest to conceive, and I have since been diagnosed with endometriosis.
God keeps showering His grace upon us. As I said earlier in my story, I had everything outlined as a young adult, but God had a different plan in mind. Looking back, I would not trade this experience for anything. I'm not saying I want to feel the heartbreak all over again, but now I know that no matter what He allows, it will not destroy me; it will only serve to strengthen me and help me minister to others in need. I don't know if Jeff and I will ever have children. If we don't, I know my heart will be somewhat empty, like a hungry heart, but God will be our sustenance.
I hope that somehow through our story, you will be able to draw encouragement and faith from the experiences I've shared with you. God will be faithful. He will always be there. He will never leave you. Remember that "He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." May the peace of God carry you!
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Hannah's Prayer is a California based, non-profit 501(c)(3)
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