My husband and I compromised that we would wait a year after our wedding before we started “not-not trying” to have a child. A month after our anniversary I found out I was pregnant! We had our 8 wk ultrasound and began sharing with family and close friends. We took “photos” with these people that were actually videos and told them we were expecting to capture those beautiful moments of sharing our first child with them. Everything was going great. I had an appointment near early 11 wks. Once we hit 13 wks we announced to the world the day after my birthday that we were expecting! At 14 wks we did a little photo shoot in the backyard. Finally, at this point in the pregnancy I was getting excited. I thought it would take longer to get pregnant. I wasn’t ready. But finally, I had gotten on board. I even designed our baby shower invites!
Two days before we were 16 wks we had another appointment. There was no heartbeat. Our doctor walked us into an ultrasound room. The sonographer just immediately blurted out “Oh this is all wrong. Look at all of this blood in here. I didn’t cry. I focused on the payment plan of all things. That was our first appointment on the pregnancy plan thing and what would that mean now?? Silly thing to worry about right then. My mom was at our house within an hour of being home. We had our close friends come the following evening—they thought we were going to tell them we were having twins. I called a few of my closest friends to tell them. These women were invited on my grief journey; I opened the door to them by reaching out. I expected them to check in and felt safe to share my feelings. I texted most-semi close people that we miscarried and that I didn’t want to talk. As soon as I came to terms with the reality and spoke to everyone we felt should know, my body responded as well and that weekend, the days were fine and the evenings were filled with contractions all night and passing an incredible amount. My husband sat on the floor of the bathroom by me in silence. There was nothing to say. Later there were things to say, like how every time I used that restroom, I relived those evenings. Those things eventually had to be said for the sake of a husband that didn’t fully understand all of thing things I carried with me while I was no longer carrying our child. But I am grateful that he was there, and willing to listen and understand my grief that was in some ways so different than his.
I make videos. Our announcements are videos. Since we had just posted our announcement video 2 wks before we found out about the miscarriage, we made a video explaining where we were and posted that four days after we found out. We weren’t trying to rush, but we are both on staff at our church in a small town we were both born and raised—we just wanted people to know and not have to retell our loss over and over again. It was nice for us to each express where we were with the loss, our hope in Jesus, our boundaries for that time in our life and specific things people could do that would be meaningful for us, like send us cards. We barely had anything physical to commemorate that child and I desperately wanted things to hold that reminded us of the truth that we had a child, it was a part of the world, and people knew it.
Six days after learning about the miscarriage, we had a D & C. Honestly, going into the maternity ward could have been one of the worst things but it was so healing for us. The staff treated us like parents, they were so sympathetic that we lost our first child, and treated us with such dignity and care, it really helped us to feel validated to grieve like parents that lost their child.
Another huge moment for me was when talking to my sister-in-law that lived across the country and to hear her heartbroken and grieving for the child she wouldn’t meet and realizing that I wasn’t the only one that got to love our baby, and that I wouldn’t be the only one carrying on its memory. I think all any mom wants is for their child to experience an incredible love in this life and no pain of this world and that’s what our child had.
Thankfully the God who created me, knows me. He knows I want to do things on my own. I wouldn’t have wanted to tell anyone of our loss. But I needed our community. And we had an incredible community that never let me miss that God was providing for us every step of the way. He literally carried us for months by His local body and other mother’s that were courageous enough to share about their own stories. As much as I hate how stupid I feel for not knowing I had miscarried. This story wouldn’t be our story. I would not be a woman others feel like they can share with when they don’t tell anyone else. I wouldn’t be the encouragement others found when they needed to express their loss. God has opened so many doors that had I not announced our pregnancy I would never have walked through. I didn’t get to carry our child for long, but now I have the privilege of carrying the memory of so many precious little ones with their mommas.
It was over a year later, on a quiet winter afternoon that I was doing the dishes and thinking of our sweet little one that I finally heard the whisper in my heart that we should name the baby Hope. Up until then—we never knew if it was a boy or a girl and I had always just called it baby Hickum and that was fine for me. And I just say that because it was so long after! But we’re still on the journey. Trying not to rush the process. Trying to be obedient and trusting and patient. And to continue to have hope. And every time we think of that babe we can’t not be thinking of hope! We’re going to meet someday! Super excited for that. And super excited to raise children to know about this child, and about God’s plan and powerful love in hopes that when they experience loss or know someone that does—that they are a strong, gracious, patient and encouraging friend during that time. That’s Hope’s legacy.
Zara; their precious rainbow baby.
The Hickinbotham Family with their little rainbow baby Zara; Hope’s little sister.
That feeling you get when you hear for the first time “I’m pregnant!” The joy it brings your home and marriage. Going to the doctor and seeing the ultra sound, your heart racing with excitement for this new journey. Then the day comes when you find out if its a boy or girl.
I can remember that day just like it were yesterday…we were so exited we were going to have a boy. We named the him Joshua Alexander. On October 6, 2015 we got to meet little Alec. The first time I held him, it was like we were the only people in the world.
It was so much fun to watch Alec grow and learn new things. He was extremely smart and picked up things very quickly. He loved all things music and instruments. We just knew he was going to be the next Beethoven! lol
The 2 years with Alec seemed to go by so fast. Alec was a healthy kid and rarely got sick. In the beginning of January 2018 we took him to the doctor for minor symptoms. She said he had the stomach virus and in his age group it takes a couple weeks to get back to normal and he didn’t need any prescriptions. During Alec’s sickness, he would go from playing, to just cuddling, then back to playing etc. the day before everything happened he slept a lot. We thought he was getting better, he watched cartoons and even wanted macaroni to eat.
That night Alec was uncomfortable and couldn’t sleep. My wife (who was 6 months pregnant at the time) thought he might be more comfortable in the living room so I laid with him on the couch while he slept on my chest. I think God knew we needed this time together. Alec woke up in the middle of the night vomiting and having seizures. We called the doctor and she said it wasn’t problem just a seizure due to the fever, but call 911 just to be sure. So we did. It seemed like forever before they got there. He was seizing and unresponsive. They rushed Alec to the closest hospital.
The doctors at the hospital couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. He was still unresponsive. They wanted to move him to Vanderbilt to get a more thorough exam when they got him stabilized. Then we got the news that no parent ever wants to hear. He said Mr. and Mrs. Birkey you son has a brain mass and bleeding on the brain. We need to do emergency surgery to reduce the swelling and even then we don’t know if he’s going to make it.
Our world was crashing before us and we were devastated. The longest days of our life were sitting in the hospital praying and wondering what was going to happen next.
We spent 2 days in the hospital crying, praying and begging God to do a miracle to save our baby boy. Then the moment came when the doctors said “there is nothing else we can do”. Never did we ever think we would have to tell our baby goodbye. You go through life, make plans and dream about about the future. This wasn’t part of our plans. We cried out to God, “Why?? We want our baby! Don’t take him!!”
Still praying and believing that God could do a miracle, we kissed our baby boy. Through the tears and the broken heart, we told him we loved him and we said our goodbyes. Alec took his last breath here on earth.
Even though we never got a miracle, we know that we will see Alec again. No one ever asks for this path in life, it’s a hard, long journey and every day you wake up and do it again. We have found hope and healing in Christ even through the passing of Alec. I heard a statement that really helped me “God doesn’t make things happen to us, he allows them, so he can work through us”.
The only way we can make it through is to hold on to the promises that he has made for us. We pray every day that through this pain, God would work in us to help others who might be struggling and suffering. That we might be able to show them that there is hope and his name is Jesus. Even though the pain is there every day, we pray God turns the PAIN into PURPOSE.
My name is Katelyn; my husband’s name is Brian. We are the proud parents to three handsome boys; Brandon (17), Braxton (13), and Briggs (forever 2), as well as one newly-added baby girl, Bradlee HOPE-Marie (6 months). We are the Welch Family. This is our story of HOPE and our beautiful Briggs.
Faith. What is faith? Some say so convincingly that it is our blind belief in God and the promises He makes to us in the Bible. Some say more simply that it is our ability to believe in something bigger than ourselves and this Earth. I don’t think either is a “wrong” answer. However, prior to August 24, 2017, I probably, in efforts to be politically correct and to not offend anyone, would have given you an answer more like the latter. Then, in the blink of an eye, my world shook and our family’s lives were changed forever, our hearts were broken into a million tiny pieces. That was before we experienced what I can only describe as my son Briggs’ “double death.” You may be thinking to yourself, “double death”? I’ll get to that.
As a high school special education teacher and softball coach, my summers are my golden, shiny treasures every year, the time I get to relax and recharge. This was my motto the summer of 2017. Relax? With a toddler? Maybe that was wishful thinking, but recharge while spending every moment I could with my almost two-year-old son, Briggs, was all that I had on my agenda. No extra coaching, no extra camps, no extra work, just me and my boy. It was beautiful and magical. I could go on and on about how great June and July were to us. We watched Moana probably 200 times, ate all the Chick-Fil-A chicken nuggets, played at the park, napped together, swam in his pirate-themed backyard pool together, and read his favorite book, “Wherever You Are, My Love Will Find You,” too many times to count. We were thick as thieves.
Like all great things, the Summer came to an end, and back to work I went. It’s so hard to imagine how life is so normal. Until it’s not. Typically, August was always one of my favorite months. Several of the people I love the most are born in August; my father, Murray; my mother, HOPE; my father-in-law, Harold; my niece, Henley…and our youngest son, Briggs. We celebrated Briggs turning two with a pool party at my folks’ house. It was a beautiful, sunny day spent with all of our pals, full of presents and cupcakes. Normal. Happy. Typical. Eleven days later, Hurricane Harvey would roll into town and turn our world upside down.
It was a Thursday. A normal Thursday. August 24, 2017 to be exact. On my way to work, I sent out a Remind101 message to my softball team reminding them that we were only one short day away from the release of Taylor Swift’s Reputation album, pretty standard business for a Thursday. Everyone was talking about Hurricane Harvey, when he’d hit, how hard he’d hit, but most of all, everyone wanted to know if school was cancelled. Brian and I had been texting all day about what we should do. Should we use this as an excuse to take the kids and get away for the weekend? Should we hunker down, buy a ridiculous amount of junk food, and ride out the storm? On my way home, I got the news that school was indeed cancelled. My husband got word he was officially off work as well, so we decided we’d head to a friend’s house to hang out and eventually decide what we’d do about the storm. We had time. So we thought. Again, normal. I picked up Briggs from my parents’ home where he stayed during the day, swung by and picked up Brian’s two older sons, and we headed home to meet him, grab our suits, and make our way, all together, to the pool party. I do remember thinking how the weather seemed to be making its way to us sooner than expected because the sky was already so dreary and painted a dark grey. Now, in retrospect, I suspect some foreshadowing. This dreary day would become the day of my Briggs’ first death.
In short, the thing happened that every parent thinks can’t or won’t happen to them. Us included. A parent’s worst-case scenario. Briggs wandered away. I was inside the home, my husband outside, he saw Briggs come inside to me, I knew he was outside with my husband. In all actuality, he was finding his way through an ajar side gate to the backyard and into the pool. A pool much like the one he had just celebrated his birthday in not even two weeks prior, only this time, he didn’t have a puddle jumper strapped to him, and he didn’t have his mommy or daddy watching him. We will never know how long he was in the pool, anywhere from one minute to five. I went outside asking my husband where Briggs was, that’s when we discovered he was with neither of us. I ran frantically through the house calling his name, desperately looking for him. When no sight was made, I darted to the backyard. Our friend, Andy, had already jumped in, retrieved Briggs, and was administering CPR to my lifeless baby. I froze, time stood still, the Earth literally shook. I screamed, but no sound seemed to come out. I fell to my knees, beating my hands into the pebbled concrete around the pool. I knew in this moment that my son was gone forever. The paramedics arrived quickly, and he was rushed to the nearby hospital.
The next hours and days are hard to recall. We were living every parent’s worst nightmare. There, in a spare hospital room, I fell to my knees yet again, only this time I began begging God to save my son while continuous tears streamed down my face. I begged and pleaded for forgiveness, to please not punish my son for my shortcomings as his mother, to please take me instead, to please give me another chance, to please not take my baby. I was convinced if he died, I would die too. I wanted to die. Who wants to live in this situation? I prayed that if He took Briggs that He would take me too. I didn’t deserve to live. The guilt, the shame, it was all so real and so palpable that it took over my soul. I simply wasn’t a good mother, I had done the worst thing a mother could do. I allowed my son to die. My sweet, innocent, full-of-life son.
After 45 minutes of working diligently, the nurse, who was also a friend of mine from high school, came and got me, told me it was time to be with him, that there was still no heartbeat. I walked into the room, saw my beautiful baby on the gurney. I took his cold lifeless hand in mine and began telling him how sorry I was, how much I loved him, how he had changed me, how he had made me a better person, how he was my greatest achievement. Then, just like in the movies, suddenly, his heart began to beat. A drop of HOPE washed over us all. Briggs was airlifted to a Houston trauma hospital. The next four days were torture, but, in hindsight, necessary. The night he arrived at Memorial Hermann, the first thing we wanted was for him to be baptized, so he was. In a beautiful and intimate ceremony. Unfortunately, Briggs would never regain consciousness.
Hurricane Harvey hit the following night. It rained and rained like it was never going to stop. We prayed and prayed to God. To be completely honest, I remember telling Brian how guilty I felt praying so hard. We are both Christians, both baptized, raised in the Methodist and Baptist churches, but we weren’t consistent church-goers. Here we were asking God for the biggest miracle, and, in my eyes, we weren’t his most devoted fans. Briggs had been to church once in his life, and I knew once again that I hadn’t done my part in making sure he was a child of God. In that moment, I felt terrible in all aspects. The guilt covered me like a thick, scratchy, burlap blanket. The blanket was heavy and hot, I could hardly breathe. I spent those days in between reading to Briggs from a children’s Bible his grandmother, Betty, had given him. We prayed over him. I shared all my love and aspirations I had for him, and Brian did the same. We stayed, all together, my parents were there too. They spent a lot of time with Briggs as our pain was their pain. We all soaked up every moment we had with our son’s Earthly body.
On Monday, August 28, 2017, the time came to say goodbye to our Briggs. While I held and rocked him in his final moments, Brian shared the story of Jesus with Briggs. It was the sweetest, most genuinely loving moment. It was in that moment that God brought me this unexplainable sense of peace that I so desperately needed. I felt Him lift that heavy, scratchy blanket off of my shoulders. I felt fresh air on my skin. I felt His forgiveness wash over me. I felt Briggs’ love, and I knew in that moment that he knew the depth of my heart and love for him. God carried me through the hardest, sweetest, and most raw moment that I will ever experience here on Earth. He walked beside me through my son’s second death. I realized how thankful I was to have gotten to hold my baby when he came into this world and to hold him in my arms again when he was lifted up and taken home to Heaven. And while I sit here writing this story of HOPE, it has occurred to me that this was God’s reasoning for Briggs’ “double death.” It was so that I could share in that moment with Briggs and Brian, the moment of Brian sharing the story of Jesus with Briggs with God present so that all three of us could be completely immersed in His love and mercy.
I won’t lie and say the road to today hasn’t been and isn’t still paved with some hurt and heartache. It most certainly is. But since Briggs’ home-going, I have learned so much about my God and built such a stronger relationship with Him. He doesn’t keep score. He is merciful. He promises eternal life where our entire family will be reunited with not only Him, but with my Briggs. I rest on that promise. Our family will be all together again one day. The time I have left on this Earth is a mere blip to our loved ones in Heaven, my son doesn’t miss me. His days were predetermined. He lived 745 days on this Earth. In those 745 days, he taught us all so much about love and compassion.
Briggs was loving, rambunctious, adventurous, funny, and full of life. He fulfilled his mission and was called Home. Too soon for me, I would have loved to have more time with him, but because of God’s promise,I will have all the time one day. That is what gets us through this as a family. We speak of Briggs every day. We tell stories, share memories, and see his sweet, beautiful face EVERY SINGLE DAY.
We have since welcomed a baby girl into our family, Bradlee HOPE-Marie. She reminds us of Briggs so much that we just know he had his little hand in her being given to us, and we take comfort that he met her long before we ever did. We are devoted to always sharing her brother’s legacy with her. HOPE is what we have, HOPE carries us, HOPE is God’s gift to us daily. That, my friends, is our story of HOPE and my newfound definition of FAITH.
My name is Karinne Greve. My husband Landon and I live in Dillon, Colorado and have been married for six years. We have three boys, Gunnar 3.5, Griffin 2, and Grady, who is now with the Lord. I am grateful for this opportunity to share our story with this amazing Hope community because we appreciate any chance to talk about our sweet Grady Jake and bring honor to his short life. Each of our stories is unique, and yours’ have deeply impacted me. Even though the common thread is loss, pain, and sorrow, we have discovered that amid the sadness and grief, we also find hope. When I read your stories, I experience your emotions as my own. As parents with children in heaven, our similar journeys provide me a safe place to cry, grieve, and experience all that is associated with our aching loss. Every story has touched my heart, and I realize it takes courage to express our pain with words. I applaud your bravery and willingness to share. Here is our story. Thank you for reading it.
Our story began in September 2016 when we found out we were pregnant with our secondchild. We went to our first doctor’s appointment in anticipation of seeing and hearing our baby’s heartbeat but was surprised to find out there were two! It was early in the pregnancy, so we were instructed to return in two weeks to make sure things were progressing normally. That next visit, the ultrasound screen confirmed what we had expected: identical twins! Completely surprised, I was flooded with anxiety as I thought about what life would look like with three small children so close in age. At the time our first child was 12 months old and I was breastfeeding once a day and still trying to adjust to being a new mom. After the initial shock and stark reality of seeing two babies on the screen, my feelings of joy, excitement, and wonder of what identical twins would be like finally arrived! We were full of excitement as we anticipated this new season in our lives.
In January 2017, our 20-week ultrasound showed both boys doing well; both happy, growing, and healthy. A twin pregnancy automatically places the mom in a “high risk” category, so as a precaution we had our first appointment with a high-risk doctor the following week. We arrived excited to see our babies again and observe how much they had grown in two weeks; we had no thoughts of worry or concern especially since our 20-week ultrasound was so positive. Little did we know; our lives were about to take a dark turn. The ultrasound tech began the scan on our boys and then abruptly left the room. Looking at the picture, I never suspected a thing and only saw my sweet Grady Jake looking back at me with his hands pulled close to his face. I never even considered that something might be wrong. Looking back at those pictures I now see that something was wrong, but my mother’s love for my child saw straight past it. The ultrasound tech left and returned twice, and at that point, I began to feel concerned.
We completed the scan and were ushered back to the doctor’s office, where we received the grim news. The scan had shown that our sweet Grady Jake now exhibited severe fetal anomalies that included clubbed feet and hands. The preliminary diagnosis was arthrogryposis, but the physician also mentioned the possibility of Trisomy 18 as well. There were no apparent signs that Griffin was also affected, but concerns were high since they were identical twins.
Hearing this news made my heart feel like it was exploding into a million pieces. Every parent’s worst nightmare was suddenly our stark reality. Not only was something wrong with one of our babies, but now both of their lives were in question. As identical twins, the boys shared placental blood flow which put both at risk. Tears immediately poured down my face as I began trying to process this overwhelming nightmare of thoughts and concerns for my unborn children. This devastating news started us on one of the most demanding and challenging journeys of our life.
After being blindsided, I was overwhelmed by agonizing guilt. Guilt takes many forms in our story, and this was only the first glimpse of what would soon emerge regularly. Almost immediately, my thoughts were filled with questions like, “What did I do to cause this?” “It must have been my fault that my son’s hands and feet developed like this.” I combatted those thoughts with logical information like “I’m 27 years old and have never tried drugs or exposed my babies to anything harmful; I didn’t and don’t drink. I took prenatal vitamins and did everything possible to keep my babies healthy.” Even with all the logic, I still questioned myself and wondered why. “Why was this happening to us?” The agonizing weight of guilt was unbearable.
The high-risk doctor put us on the schedule at Children’s Hospital in Denver for a full day of testing to determine what exactly was going on with our boys. We had to wait two grueling weeks for the test results to come in–I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, could hardly take a breath. I had thoughts of not wanting to live if I was going to lose both of my babies. I repeatedly called the hospital to see if we could schedule an earlier visit in hopes of getting definite answers so that this nightmare would end, and the feelings could go away. I just wanted my babies to be ok.
The two brutal weeks passed, and we entered the hospital for another round of tests. MRI, heart echoes, and more laborious ultrasounds. When the tests were done, we were again escorted into a room, but this time it was a conference room filled with fifteen people–doctors, nurses, social workers, and some of the best surgeons in the country. Terrified out of my mind, I spotted two empty chairs in the middle of the room waiting for my husband and me. Trying to hold back tears, and bracing myself for the outcome, we walked in and sat down, while everyone in the room awkwardly stared at us. I avoided all eye contact and silently prayed that somehow God would heal our babies so that everything could return to normal and silence this cruel nightmare. I prayed over and over, “Please God, don’t let us have to make decisions that involve the fate of our children. Please save our babies…if you need them back; please take them with your hands, not ours.”
The doctors began to talk and show us images of our little Grady Jake. I looked up, and there he was. He was perfect. Still growing, still thriving as a twin, but his hands and feet weren’t typical. The doctors explained to us that the tests had come back normal, with no signs of stroke, all organs functional, all ultrasounds and heart echoes, healthy, and no indications of Trisomy 18 or any other genetic condition. Essentially, the experts were saying that they had no idea what was wrong with our son and they had never seen anything like this before. The doctors warned that even though his organs appeared to be functioning normally, ultrasounds are unable to determine if they are fully functioning. The doctors also suspected that his clubbed feet and hands most likely indicated some mental dysfunction as well. Trying to keep from bursting into tears and using every inch of my body and mind to hold myself together, I sat unsure of what all this meant. The doctors then began to explain the most complex and devastating aspect of our unfolding story. They said that our son Grady was sick; they just weren’t sure the extent of his illness. They also said that Griffin might also be sick because they were identical twins. They were unable to fully tell without an amniocentesis, which was far too risky; so we would have to wait till they were born.
We then received more devastating news; there was a high likelihood that our son Grady would pass away in utero. The physician said that if he made it to birth, he would probably pass away shortly after; if he did survive, he would most likely suffer severe and challenging handicaps throughout his life. We then discovered that identical twins uniquely share 100% blood flow, so if Grady passed away, it would cause a severe drop in Griffin’s blood pressure, which would result in either Griffin’s death or possible mental handicapping.
Our minds were overwhelmed with information and data and words we had never heard before. We sat stunned and shaken in the middle of all that confusion, as the physicians presented us with three possible scenarios.
The first option was to continue with the pregnancy and let it run the natural course. Things would be allowed to progress organically, and we would stay consistent with routine check-ups. If Grady passed away in utero, we would run the risk of also losing Griffin or him being disabled the rest of his life. Depending on how far I made it, and if both boys survived, one of the following would be a likely outcome: Grady would experience serious physical disabilities and possibly severe mental disabilities; Griffin could be entirely healthy, or more likely suffer mental effects from Grady’s genetic inclination. Both could be stillborn; or both born prematurely, potentially causing one or both to have cerebral palsy.
The second option included medical intervention. Generally, in this type of situation, they have the technology to split the blood flow between the babies which creates a separate outcome for each child individually. In our case, this wasn’t possible due to how close the cord insertions were. The only other option in this scenario was to perform a procedure called RFA (Radio Frequency Ablation). This procedure completely stops blood flow to Grady to save Griffin from the effects of the blood pressure surge. They assured us that the procedure was 80% effective and if all went well, I would most likely make it to 36 weeks, giving Griffin the best possible chance for survival. This procedure came with a significant number of potential risks, including infection, premature delivery at 23 weeks (due to ruptured membranes), Griffin’s reduced chances for survival, and an increased chance that Griffin would suffer the ill effects mentally,
Our final option was to be admitted to the hospital at 24 weeks for the duration of my pregnancy to monitor our sons till birth. If anything looked like it was taking a downturn, they would endeavor to respond quickly enough to save Griffin. The physician then added the caveat that this option carried the risk and possibility of a delayed response time that still put Griffin’s life and condition at risk, along with the likelihood of early labor and delivery, which lowered both boys chance for survival outside the womb and increased the likelihood of cerebral palsy.
We left the hospital that day overcome with emotion and having no idea what decision to make. We continued to pray like we have never prayed before– prayed for our babies to be healed. Prayed that if God were going to take our babies, he would do it with his hands, not ours. Prayed that if we were going to have to make this choice, God would give us some solid direction by revealing regression and decline in Grady, so that we could absolutely know that his hand was in this heartbreaking decision. My husband and I are strong Christians, so we would never consider an option that required an active choice on our part. Never would I have thought that God would even remotely put us in this kind of situation. We knew God was big and that he was in control and firmly believed that God wouldn’t give us something we couldn’t handle. But wow, we were completely and utterly overwhelmed.
We felt paralyzed at a crossroad, unable to move. The brutal reality of having to select one child over the other consumed my anguished thoughts. It felt like our children were standing on opposite sides of a cliff; one was falling, and the other was trying to save him. If we reached to help pull them up, we knew there was a good chance of saving one but only a minuscule chance of saving the other. We also knew that our “help” could potentially cause an irreparable loss. Ultimately, we understood the reality that if we didn’t do something, we’d most likely lose them both.
Our hearts ached, and all we could do was cry and pray. We made an appointment for the following week and made space for God to answer and act. We fervently hoped he would respond in an apparent and divine way, but we were also acutely aware that God sometimes answers with silence. Nevertheless, we secretly dared to hope and pray.
During that week, we began to pray that if we were to intervene medically, there would be measurable regression in Grady’s condition by our next appointment. We asked God to show us that Grady was headed to heaven. If we weren’t supposed to intervene, we asked God to have the ultrasound indicate that he was thriving, rather than regressing. Our prayers became specific and intentional—we had to hear from heaven to make this agonizing decision.
A week passed. At the follow-up appointment, the scan revealed that Grady’s condition had deteriorated and he was experiencing backflow to the placenta along with an abnormal Doppler reading in his liver. Both confirming indications that his condition was grave and that his passing was imminent. Tears poured from my soul and streamed down my face. God had spoken, and we were compelled to listen. He had heard our prayers and confirmed the direction we were to take. His timing is always perfect.
We returned home for two sad and mournful days. We arrived at the hospital on February 16th, 2017, which would forever be the last day that I would carry Grady’s spirit in my body.
The hardest day of my entire life.
We were admitted early that morning and prepped for the procedure. The ultrasound tech did one last scan that would be the final moments we would ever see Grady alive on this earth.
The tech told us that Grady was in an abnormal position for a baby in utero, which confirmed my belief that he would have passed away soon after, if not that day, and was just holding on to save his brother. Just one of the many confirmations that we received from God. The decision was made. We would have the procedure.
On the way to the operating room, I experienced a panic attack.
I couldn’t breathe–I couldn’t move–all I wanted to do was back out and go home. I had never had a panic attack before, and I was terrified. I had no idea what was happening as I was overcome by every possible emotion I have ever experienced at once. Thoughts of what was about to occur overwhelmed me. The attack was severe, and I felt satan looming in the background trying to attack at my weakest moment. God’s presence and grace came through and gave me the strength to walk into that operating room. I left my husband, who was unable to go back with me and took the biggest step of faith in my entire life. I would not have been able to walk back into that operating room had God not been right by my side. I was only lightly sedated for Griffin’s safety, and aware of everything that occurred throughout the procedure. Each minute detail of that hour and that entire day replays in my mind repeatedly and often.
After the procedure, they wheeled me back to our room where I saw my husband again. The ultrasound tech was with us monitoring Griffin and said how smoothly everything went. The smoothest she had ever seen. Again, another confirmation from God.
I laid there and wept. The realization that I would not get to meet Grady till the day I see him in heaven was throbbing and raw. All I had were his ultrasound pictures (which I regret not getting more), his movements in my belly, and now only his lifeless body inside of me. His spirit was now with the Lord.
We were released later that day, earlier than expected. Another confirmation from God because things were going so well. I was on modified bed rest for the duration of the pregnancy. That precaution created another painful, guilt-inducing point in our story–I couldn’t pick up our oldest son, Gunnar or care for him the way I felt a mother should. My relationship with him languished and struggled as I physically and mentally could not be the mother I wanted to be at the time.
Days, weeks, and three months passed. Doctors’ appointments and stress tests every week to monitor Griffin’s progress and condition made for a long, arduous journey…We continued to be hopeful that Griffin would have every possible opportunity to thrive and be healthy. Always hoping and praying that we had made the right decision.
At 35 weeks 5 days, I went into labor and delivered the boys on May 22, 2017, at 9:01 p.m. We celebrated Griffin’s entrance into the world and then given the opporuntiy to see Grady and spend time with him. Griffin was born a healthy 6.2 oz. and 19 in. long with no signs of any health or genetic issues… Praise Jesus! A joyful and difficult day for us. We were so grateful that God allowed us to have Griffin.
Despite the mountain of relief that Griffin was alive and healthy, my heart still ached and cried that I no longer had any physical connection with Grady. I had allowed myself to hope and imagine that when Griffin was born, I would finally be able to breathe normally again–and that the stress and multitude of emotions would subside. That did not happen, and the tension between gratitude and searing loss continues to battle in my soul, every day.
Grief is my daily companion, and no doubt will continue to be until the day I see Grady in heaven.
We think about Grady every single day and have a tangible reminder of him when we look at Griffin. God was sweet to make them identical twins so that we could get a glimpse of what Grady looks like and who he would have been.
Grady’s brother, Griffin will be two next month. He is a happy, healthy, thriving toddler, developing normally, and meeting all his milestones. We watch him running, walking, laughing, and teasing his older brother and realize what a gift he is to our family—such a special soul. He is our affirmation and daily evidence that we made the best possible decision for both our sons.
When we look back and replay all the options and possible outcomes, we realize now that guilt would have been a factor in every single one of them. Our family is still learning how to process and face grief and guilt—two steps forward, three back some days. We intentionally seek wisdom, people, and connection to keep guilt at bay in order to move forward, all while being intentional about carrying Grady with us. In reality and through all of this, one thing that I have learned about guilt is that you can’t avoid it, you can’t run from it, and you can’t hide from it. In some ways and if I’m honest, I almost feel that if I don’t feel guilty, I am not honoring my son…That I am forgetting about him. I know this is a lie from Satan and understand that guilt is a paralyzing, fear inducing monster that he uses repeatedly to keep us stuck and lifeless. We are intentional about turning our hearts toward God and seeing the pain in our journey as a result of living in a broken, disconnected, and fallen world. We know that God is always redeeming these painful and broken places and making good growth out of them, despite how difficult it is to see at times and in those painful seasons. We choose to honor God and Grady by honoring our story and being authentic with our pain.
As we continue this journey, we are learning to navigate our story with our boys; especially about how to guide Griffin through his story. The bond that identical twins share is uniquely special and one that will be implicitly present in him throughout his life. Doctors tell us that he will most likley sense a part of him missing and will likely express these feelings through different outlets throughout his childhood. For example, he may draw two of the same objects, experience an imaginary friend, or include an “extra person” in pictures before ever being told that he has a brother. With this in mind, we are preparing for how best to guide Griffin in this tender process. We openly speak of Grady and want him to be a normal part of our family just like our sons, Gunnar and Griffin. We take each day one at a time and through counseling and wisdom from our family, friends, and mentors, we hope to guide our sons toward a healthy, fulfilling, and redemptive life empowered by God. Fueled by his grace and inspired by their brother Grady. We hope Griffin finds purpose and joy in his life and that he never feels unworthy or guilty for the life he was given.
God ultimately gets the glory in our story, and I can genuinely say that I am honored that God felt he could entrust us with this journey, with his children, and with this agonizing and painful decision. I wasn’t able to see this prespective until we met our pastor for coffee not long after the boys were born. During our conversation, he told us that when he heard our story, he was deeply moved and that he wanted to get to know the people that God entrusted with such a momentous decision. This really moved me and thankfully altered my perspective of our story. It really made me ponder the meaning and reason for our story. In many ways, our story resembles that of God giving his son Jesus for our life. Jesus died for our sins so that we could live in eternity with him and have connection with him now. Grady’s life sweetly resembles Jesus as he sacrificed his life so that his brother could live. I love all three of my children so very much. People may judge, and thoughts will loom, but I know in my heart that we made the best decision we could have possibly made.
Hear Cammy share the story of losing her son Lewis… and the miracle God provided her in her darkest hour.
This vine…I bought it last year in early Spring with high hopes for it to become a plush and bountiful thing of beauty. Fresh blooms after a long winter always refresh my soul, and I just knew that this would bless me for years to come as it continued to grow and fill out my trellis. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before it turned brown and died…there was seemingly no hope. I tried several things to bring it back to life but to no avail, so I gave up. But, last week a miracle occurred…from the brown crunchy vines left behind over the winter, sprouted NEW LIFE! A tiny bit came from the soil below, but the greenest came from the very top of the vine! Those darn brown vines still had something left in them after all and produced not one, but five big blooms and a sixth on the way!!! I went out and stared at it…I found it fascinating that it was the old seemingly dead vine that sprouted those giant purple blossoms. You would think that only by starting over, and starting fresh, you would see such rich color and life…but no. It was the vine that stayed the longest, endured the most, lived, suffered, and died…and now it comes back to life bringing with it such beauty and hope. Sound familiar?
You see…God is not done with me. He is not done with any of us! Tears well up in my eyes because this vine represents so much of Gods love and faithfulness in my life this past year! I too was once planted in rich soil, loved, and showered with living water…the water of life. I grew bountiful leaves and flowers from the “true vine” as Jesus describes so beautifully in John 15. However, it wasn’t long before I found myself brown, dry and crippled in the loss of my son. The leaves and flowers gone…and all that was left was this thick brown vine clinging to the trellis. There seemed as though there was nothing left…and that life was to be restored only by ripping out the old and growing brand new. Daunting…the idea of completely starting over. I have walked this past year with only hope in my heart…trusting that in time my soul and the very essence of me would bloom again…and that all of me was not lost in the wake of losing my boy. That becoming whole again wouldn’t mean starting over and losing everything that made me who I am in the process. Would my laughter come back? Would there be joy? Would I ever recover from this? Will there come a day that I feel the peace that comes with knowing God is at work even still? Isaiah 43:18-19 speaks of NEW THINGS and that God is making a way! But what was the way for me? Where would these new things come from? When will I come into my life again and produce plush green leaves and beautiful flowers…when will I produce the fruit that is promised to come?
When I look at this vine on my trellis, I can see what God is doing. I am reminded that God is capable of restoration no matter how far gone we are. No matter how dead we think we are…no matter how broken and crippled we are “after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.” (1 Peter 5:10)
My first picture with Lewis.
Each day I am reminded of my Lewis…and thoughts of the loss of him are slowly replaced with thoughts of the gift of him. I see his baseball hats that float around the house and smile thinking about that curly hair that used to pour out from underneath them. I look upon his pictures around my house and remember that sweet smile and I glance over at his ashes on my dresser only to be thankful for ever knowing him much less being the one chosen to bring him into this world. Now I look upon this vine and I see what God is showing me, “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.” Isaiah 60:1…and a few verses later it even says that I will be “radiant” and my “heart will throb and swell with joy.” Bless it…I feel you God…I know you are working miracles in me.
To me, these blossoms represent my family…me and my boys…and the bud on the left side is for the one on the way…our sweet Thatcher growing inside of me. God is this vine…we are the branches. As John 15 says…”If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” My favorite thing in this picture below is that this beautiful new growth and life comes from the vine that I thought was once dead. It grows bigger and faster than it did the year before. I didn’t have to rip out the old to grow the new…I just needed to wait upon the Lord…and “He shall renew their strength; they shall soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” God keeps His promises…and He brings hope for our future.
My last picture with Lewis.
As for my roots? I will leave you with this…Ephesians 3:16-19 “I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ.”He’s not done with me yet…He is not done with you either.
