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Our Story of Hope- Impey Family (Stevie)

It had been a perfect Mother’s Day weekend. Our family had gone out of town, with a large group of close family friends, several with young children. The weather was unseasonably warm for Washington State, so we swam all afternoon on Sunday before heading home. It wasn’t surprising that our 2 young boys, 2 ½ yr. old Stevie and his 11-month old brother, Matthew slept the entire 3 hr. trip home! I worried the boys might not want to go to bed when we returned that Sunday night. I was 7 months pregnant with Drew and was ready for a good night’s sleep in my own bed. It’s a memory I will always cherish.

Monday morning, Stevie awoke cranky, not his usual content disposition. Both boys had a cough and a runny nose, but nothing concerning. On Tuesday, Stevie’s cold turned into flu-like symptoms and his demeanor began to worsen. He eventually grew listless, so both my husband and I felt we needed to take him to the E.R.

It was decided Bill would take Stevie, and I would stay at home with Matthew. I became anxious when I didn’t hear anything for several hours. Then, around 2:00 AM on Tuesday, the phone rang. I was alarmed that is wasn’t Bill on the line, but a nurse: “Hello, is this Leah Impey? We think your son has something wrong with his heart. Can you come to the hospital now?” 

By the time I reached the hospital, the Pediatric Cardiologist told us that Stevie was fighting some kind of an infection that was affecting his heart. They said “He is a very, very sick little boy. We are doing everything we know to do, but don’t know if he will make it through the night. His heart is being attacked, and is already half-dead. If he survives, he will need a heart transplant, and will not be able to live a normal life.” I can remember the horror and total disbelief what we were hearing. Fear gripped my body and soul in a way that’s indescribable. 

Since you are reading this story, you probably know the outcome. Stevie did not survive. By Thursday evening, our precious Stevie had lost the battle against a virus. I could share the part of our story where we felt like we might be losing our mind, and all the stages of grief we experienced, which certainly has value. Yet, I feel compelled to focus on the parts that helped us to keep breathing and living.

One memory that is crystal clear was on the first morning after we arrived at the hospital. Family and friends began arriving to offer support. We all gathered in a waiting room for prayer. My Dad made a statement before he prayed. It went straight into my heart and has guided me many times since: “We will not look to our circumstances, but to God.” I began to ponder the profoundness of that statement. That single sentence was absolutely pivotal. In one moment, the terrible, dark fear vanished. I had always known that the presence of God was always with me, but as I “looked to God”, I became aware of it. I “felt” the Peace that passes all understanding wash over me like a warm shower. I could breathe normally!

Don’t get me wrong. I was still very much in the middle of the most traumatic experience of my life. Both my husband and I were desperate for our son to live. Yet, somehow the Peace never left. 

There were lots of tears as we talked, prayed and waited to see if he could just hold out against this infection. I can remember sitting on the floor in the waiting room the second day, saying to some family members, “If God chooses that Stevie is not to be healed, I want to ask God for 2 things: 

  1. You are going to have to make me O.K. because I don’t know how I will ever live. I will never be O.K. if he dies! I think I will die too. Please, will you do this for me? 
  2. I want to make sure that we will have opportunities to talk to people about the Lord because of this tragedy. If you take Stevie home to Heaven, I need you to give us opportunities that last for as long as we are here on this earth. I can’t bear to be separated from him if there isn’t an on-going, redeemable value. I know suffering is never in vain in God’s economy. If you will allow us to make a difference for eternity, then that will make the separation more bearable. After all, God gave up his Son for the sake of the world, how could I not be willing to trust God with our son too?”

God honored me by answering those prayer requests in ways I hadn’t anticipated. I already believed that God is never surprised by events the way we are. In other words, He is all-knowing (Omniscient). I also believed God is never constrained by time the way humans are. Simply put, He is eternal. 

God displayed these two great attributes of Himself in a powerful way. Not being constrained by time, and by knowing all things, God had been providentially preparing me for a future He knew was coming my way. During those dark hours of worry and fear, He was gently aligning my heart with His. 

To say it simply, He walked with me “through the valley of the shadow death.” God gave me His eternal view of life, which included Stevie’s life. He impressed upon me that even if Stevie dies, yet will he live. God helped me to really believe this deep in my heart not just in my head. I knew that Stevie would still be alive in God’s heaven. This began to help me be O.K. if he died. This is how God comforted me. He was preparing me for my future, preparing me to live and die too. He answered this prayer by doing this for me. 

God honored my other prayer request by giving my husband and I opportunities to talk to other moms, dad who had suffered the death of a child. But we’ve also been able to minister to many people in various struggles as a direct result of Stevie’s death for over two decades. He was giving us a purpose, which is to bring hope to others who suffer. In doing this, we have found healing and have joy in our hearts. I cannot imagine how we could have healed and live, without God’s promises!

Just like you, we both still hate being separated from our Stevie. Yet, God has used our tragedy in so many redeeming ways, that we see are making a difference for eternity. This has made the separation more bearable. God has healed our broken hearts. 

For us, 25 years have passed. A couple of months after Stevie went to heaven our boy Matthew got to meet his newborn brother Andrew. Then came Claire, followed by Samuel. Now our 4 wonderful children are fully grown. Recently, our family grew again as we welcomed Jessica, our first daughter-in-law, into our family. 

Leah, Bill, Samuel, Claire, her boyfriend Hunter, Drew

Our new daughter-in-law Jess and son Matt

God answered my two prayers, and over the years He has answered so many more of our prayers regarding our children. God desires to answer your prayers as well. He also desires that you experience His presence in your time of loss. God has healed our broken hearts and He will heal yours too, simply by turning to and trusting Him. His comfort and presence are a divine gift to anyone who asks for it and receives it. 

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Our Story of Hope- Steubing Family (Rylan)

Out of our four children, Rylan was the only one that I knew with 100% certainty the night she was conceived. Probably way too much information to begin a story with, but it sets the tone for her uniqueness.  My heart just knew that a beautiful baby had been made and somehow I knew that the beautiful baby was a she.

Before Rylan

After a few tumultuous early years, James and I foolishly and rashly decided we couldn’t be married anymore. We were just too “different”(insert eye roll!).  I look back on those days now and alternate between feelings of shame at our choices and a peace and certainty that God was still working and the story of our lives were being written.

After a year of separation and much growing up and reconstruction, we remarried on a cold December day. Our little five year old Jordan standing up with his young parents, watching us recommit to being a family again.  The next December he would welcome his baby sister.

She’s Here

On the night of December 3, 1997 an incredibly beautiful baby was born. Her birth was the easiest of the four babies and she was a true cherub.

For some reason, (I actually  think there’s no such thing as “some reason” as it’s now clear to me that God gave me some distinct and lasting imprints of her life that I now treasure deeply) but the first night after she was born and I was alone in the hospital room with her I had a moment that I have never forgotten. The previous night when I went into labor, there was a blizzard. As in blowing snow, you can’t go over 25 mph and I was convinced she would be a floorboard baby! But if you have ever experienced a snow storm, the first night after the storm is magical. The sky is completely clear and the moon reflects with an incredible brightness of the white landscape. It’s wonderful!

So that night, as I sat on my hospital bed with this little angel laying in front of me, a moonbeam shining through the window illuminated her like an angel.  In that moment, this overwhelming, indescribable love came over me. In that moment, we bonded. I can think of it today, almost 21 years later, with perfect recall.

Did I bond with my other children? Absolutely! But for “some reason” Rylan’s was burned into my memories unlike the others. God knew.  He knew I would need those memories to survive the day he took her from me.

She grew up healthy and beautiful and a complete joy to our family and friends. She was adorable and to add a cherry to her cuteness, she was irresistibly sweet.

Two more baby sisters would be added to our family over the next 15 years. Morgan came three and a half years after Rylan and then our little “surprise package” Maren, arrived when Rylan was almost 15 and Morgan was 11.

I can say with certainty that the day Maren was born was the best day of Rylan’s life. Sheer joy was on her face in that delivery room! She was the most excited person in our family that a new baby was coming (James and I were still thawing from our shock of being parents again at 41 and 43!).  For Maren, I often think the loss of Rylan will be the most significant because she never got to fully know how much she was loved by her big sister. To be loved the way Rylan loved Maren is truly the cure for humanity. I will spend my days telling her how much her sister loved her.

She had her first seizure at 13. It was nocturnal, no one saw her have it and thus would begin the mystery of her epilepsy. At first we were told it was likely brought on by adolescence and there was a good chance it would leave her by the time she reached her twenties.  We were hopeful! It was mild at first and she only had five or six seizures the first year.  When the meds began to fail, one after the other, our first tastes of fear began to settle on us.  I began to wake up every morning with my first thoughts being “did she have a seizure last night?”  It would become an all consuming thought over the course of the next five years.

Ecuador

In early 2013 we began to feel an almost magnetic pull to move outside the U.S.  For over a year we diligently prayed and talk through what such a life changing decision like that would like.  I still struggle even today to adequately explain the process of how and why we ended up in Ecuador. It was so incredible, hard, scary, daunting, exhilarating and overwhelming.  While all of our children were on board and excited to go, none as much as Rylan. She rarely expressed second thoughts like the rest of us.  She KNEW it was the path we were to take.  She jumped in immediately to our new culture. She studied her Spanish with such diligence! She was by her nature shy but very much a people person. She longed to communicate and get to know our new neighbors.

After enrolling the girls in private school, they began to speak and understand Spanish at a rapid pace! They were such brave girls!! I still beam with pride when I think of how they stepped into the adventure with such courage.

The Change

In the beginning of her senior year, she came to me and said “Mom, I am so torn about school. I’m struggling academically and maybe I should homeschool and finish?”  For “some reason” she approached me with the idea of going to Youth With A Mission (YWAM, pronounced *why wham*) and doing a Discipleship Training School. A program held all over the world in virtually every country.  She was going to finish home school and start YWAM the following fall. She would attend Midwifery school after her DTS in Kona, Hawaii at University of the Nations.  Her acceptance into the program there was one her great joys. She loved babies and women and birth with a passion I’ve rarely seen.

For “some reason” I knew it was the right thing for her but that she shouldn’t wait to go, I told her to to apply right away to YWAM.  I remember the night I told James I was questioning my parenting in advising my child to stop her senior year of school to leave and go on a six month adventure! But I knew she was to go.

We began to correspond with a wonderful American missionary family in Cusco, Peru running the YWAM base camp there.  Jordan and Joy Allen and their three children would become a second family to Rylan.

Letting Her Go

I began to immediately question my decision to let her go with the epilepsy getting increasingly worse. We agreed that for safety reasons she would stay on a med that had horrible side effects but reduced the seizures (but not stop them entirely) while she was gone.

In February of 2017 we said our tearful goodbyes in the airport and James flew with her to Peru. My baby girl. I can still feel her hug goodbye.  I couldn’t wait for her excited phone calls and she couldn’t wait to tell us everything she was doing!

My amazing little girl turned young woman, learned and grew and studied. She went to the jungles of Colombia, Peru and Brazil. She swam in the Amazon, preached a sermon with a translator, played with sloths and indigenous tribes. She grew in her faith, matured in ways I don’t think most of us ever do. She lived a life most never dare to live.

Coming Home

I counted the days until her July 2016 return to Ecuador. I was overjoyed to see her.  While God had graciously protected her while she was gone, and she had only had two seizures in the months away (a miracle!) I was concerned. The medication side effects were awful and had taken their toll.  We set up another intensive visit with the neurologist and the endless tests as soon as she returned.  He suggested yet another new med to try. Five  days on the new medication she came to me and said words I will never forget. She in essence said she didn’t want to disobey me (and she never had) but she was done with the meds. As in she was not taking meds anymore. Ever. At this point we had done every diet, oil, alternative treatment known to help epilepsy and no success. She said at 18 years old she felt she had the right to choose and she was tired. Tired of the side effects and the life it took from her.  What could I say? I didn’t push. I just said ok and then began to beg God for a cure, healing, new medication..something!! I was beginning to get scared.

A few weeks before she was to leave for Hawaii to start university, I woke up in the middle of the night with the absolute certainty that she couldn’t go.  I woke up James and tearfully told him what I was feeling.  He agreed and we prayed right then that if God was showing us she wasn’t to leave that Rylan would be in agreement. I was distraught to tell her we didn’t want her to go. It was her dream!! She was so excited! But the next morning she tearfully agreed. My heart broke for her! We all agreed it was just a delay until we got her health under control. But it was not to be.

Going Home 

On February 22, 2017 my precious moonbeam baby returned to her heavenly home.  I was the one to find her. It was a surreal moment. I had been in the hospital for a gallbladder removal, a surgery I had been putting off for over a year. James came to pick me up and take me home after taking Morgan and Maren to school. He left Rylan at home, she told him she hadn’t slept well and was laying on the couch when he left.

My momma’s heart knew she had left me before I even found her. I was so certain of it I jumped out of the car (with a sore abdomen and stitches) and ran screaming her name into my house. The deafening silence that answered me confirmed my biggest and longest held fear. One of my babies had left me.

The aftermath of child loss is like a war zone.  People walk around disoriented and shell shocked. Picking up what remains with a feeling of hopelessness.

I picked her up and rocked her like a baby and begged God to send her back. I asked to switch places with her. It’s an anguish there are just not words in the universe that describe it.

We had to fly our baby back home to Texas in a coffin. The details of those days following her death in a foreign country and the miraculous ways God provided are stories in and of themselves.  From our amazing neighbors and friends who basically took over and called all the proper authorities and drove a grieving James to a morgue. To our missionary friends (who had also lost a daughter just two years prior) who came immediately and virtually never left our side and brought food and practical care as well as helping us just survive.

The Aftermath 

One day in my early thirties with three young children, I had a conversation/deal making talk with God.  I said precisely this:

“Please do not ever take one of my children from me. I will carry any cross you ask me to but please not that one”

But He did.  I didn’t think I could survive it. My own childhood pains and struggles had created in me a desire to be the best mother I could. I loved them more than my own life. Maybe more than I loved God.  I did not want a life without one of them. It just seemed too much.

It would take an entire book, one I just very well may write, to tell of the ways God prepared me to carry the one cross I asked Him not to make me carry.  He answered my prayer not by sparing my child but carrying me and carrying the cross with me. We believe we are entitled to a long life with our children. With our spouse. With our parent. We are not. Each day is a gift, it is not promised.

There is life after death. On this earth for those who remain and for those who put their hope in a loving God and pass from this life into the next. Yes He is loving. Even when then the unthinkable happens. When you have to take up the one cross you didn’t think you could ever carry. He carries us.

Rylan Richelle Steubing 

1997-2017

My daughter and precious friend. I can’t wait till we meet again. 

John 14:2

Check out (Rylan’s Sister) Morgan’s story of Hope about losing her sister HERE

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Our Story of Hope- Cain Family (Lilliana)

Lilliana Joy was supposed to be our rainbow baby, before I even knew what that term meant.  Once we made it through the first trimester, we were overjoyed!  Lilliana was perfect: no genetic issues, no pregnancy-related concerns, everything was functioning perfectly. Except none of that mattered. 

During my third trimester, at 31 weeks, our precious daughter’s heart stopped beating.  We don’t know why, and we don’t get to find out this side of Heaven. I had to wait 4 torturous days at home with my daughter already gone before being induced.  I just wanted to see her face and hold her.  My induction did not go as any of us had planned.  The result was a very scary placental abruption, and an emergency C-section.  Through it all, I continued to cry out to God to just help me through this.  Lord, help me through my first spinal, my first surgery, my fears, my first glimpse of Lilliana, and the overwhelming sound of silence after she was born.  She was delivered on a Sunday, 11/30/14 at 4:02 p.m.  There has never been a more deafening sound than a quiet room after your baby is born.  We were able to hold her, look at her, and try to cherish our short time with her.  She was 3 pounds 12 ounces, 16 ¾ inches long, and had dark hair.  She was perfect.  And we didn’t get to keep her.  She was already with Jesus. 

Lilliana’s life verse: “The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and He helps me.  My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise Him.” –Psalm 28:7

Did you know that to experience sorrow does not eliminate your joy?  That sorrow can actually deepen our capacity for joy?  It’s not natural to experience profound joy in the face of heartache.  It is the very joy of Christ within us.  God showed me that joy, in little glimpses after Lilli was gone.  He stayed by my side, comforting me through my heartache, helping me to survive this, the unthinkable, every mother’s worst nightmare.  

I read this quote in the months after we buried Lilliana.  It resonates.

“It’s a delicate balance between letting yourself grieve the way you need to and functioning in a world that keeps reminding you of what you have lost.  Live life gratefully.” –Angie Smith

Today, I am grateful to have three amazing little boys at home, one precious daughter in Heaven, and one miraculous daughter on the way.  I don’t know what our future holds, but I do know that these children are God’s children, not mine.  I will love them every day that I have them here with me, for as long as that may be.  

I gladly relinquish control to God, and pray fervently that we get to raise this baby with her big brothers.  Our hope is in Heaven, and I cannot wait to all be reunited again.

“Through it all, through it all, my eyes are on You. It is well, with me.”

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Our Story of Hope- Rogers Family (Everly)

On June 30, 2017 my life changed.   The little white test said the words I had never before seen, “Pregnant”.  We got pregnant easily, but I still was in shock!  We then spent the next few weeks keeping the ultimate secret.  I watched what I ate, double checked what medications were safe, drank more water and started working out.  I was determined to have a healthy pregnancy so I could have a healthy delivery.  My first trimester was a breeze.  Minus some added tiredness, I was golden.  Never had any morning sickness and if I felt a little weak, a snack fixed me up every time.

We told family around 6 weeks but waited until the “safe” zone to make our pregnancy public knowledge.  Everyone was so excited and just positive their gender guess was correct.  My response was always along the lines of “you have a 50% chance of being right!”  October 24 we had our 20 week anatomy scan. Our child was being less than cooperative.  Hal laughed and said, “that is you in there!”   I apologized while laughing to the ultrasound techs for my child being so difficult.  Everything looked perfect, just a petite baby at 13 oz.  After seeing my OB, we had to go back to see if we could find out the gender.  Stubborn baby thought they needed to sit with their legs crossed covering themselves.  Hal & I all but started taking bets.  I said girl, he said boy.  The ultrasound techs said they were pretty sure baby was a girl. I laughed a joyous laugh.  Hal became silent.  It was funny watching his face.  You could tell his mind had just started running wild on how he would parent a girl, protect a girl, teach a girl, love a girl.  We then kept her gender a secret until the gender reveal for our loved ones on November, 4.  Everyone was ecstatic!

I had horrible headaches during the week of Thanksgiving.  I figured it was just the stress of traveling to see family all over the northern part of the state.  A week after Thanksgiving and after a stressful day and hormonal breakdown, we went to the store & got a blood pressure cuff.  I felt my blood pressure may have been elevated.  Sure enough, it was.  After multiple readings spaced out over several hours we decided to go to Labor & Delivery Triage, just in case.  I assumed we would go to the hospital, they would set me up on the monitors for a few hours then send me home.  I assumed they would probably laugh at me as an overly cautious first time parent.  And in part I was right.  My blood pressure wasn’t insanely high,  but baby Everly was having decels as the nurse called them.  That is where the heart rate dips low or decelerates.  That isn’t always a reason for concern,  but our sweet nurse had an intuition to have it checked out further.  We stayed the night in the hospital.  Around 8 am, I was wheeled in for a detailed ultrasound.  When your ultrasound tech jokes around and smiles with you, you know everything is great.  When they are serious, you learn real quickly something is wrong.  I started crying.  I didn’t even know what the issue was, but I knew it was serious.  Once the Maternal Fetal Medicine (MFM) doctor came in, he gave us a diagnosis.  The placenta wasn’t sufficiently giving Everly the nutrients she needed to grow.  She was growth restricted (IUGR).  She was 25 weeks 4 days at this point, but was measuring the size of a 20 week baby.  We were told the chances of survival were not great and to go home and prepare for her to “expire” in my womb in the weeks ahead.

We began seeing my OB weekly.  Every appointment I was terrified there would be no heartbeat.  And every appointment resulted in the same strong heartbeat.  We cried, A LOT.  We prayed more than we cried.  Every day I thanked God for another day with a live baby in my womb.  For a baby to be viable after birth, they have to weigh 500 grams which is 1 lb 2 oz.  That is the smallest they are able to intubate.  And a 1 pound baby would most definitely need to be intubated after birth to assist with breathing.  Lungs are the last organ to fully develop in the womb.  On December 28, we went for another ultrasound.  We prayed for a 500 gram baby!  She had already survived a full month after a grim diagnosis.  We knew God had big plans for Everly.  And she sure loved showing us what a fighter she was.

God answered our prayer, she was 523 grams!  Our MFM decided it would be good to go ahead and start steroids to help strengthen her lungs.  We had also made it to the third trimester which was HUGE! After getting my first steroid shot, my MFM called me from his cell phone.  He told me after talking to the head of Neonatology (head of NICU) he thought it would be best to deliver soon. I’m freaking out.  I have no idea what to expect.  I had my second steroid shot 24 hours later and had my bags packed just incase.  We called the MFM to meet us for the shot.  He told us he wanted to wait a few more days.   My OB was out of town at this time, so I was completely ok with waiting a few more days until she was back.  We scheduled another ultrasound for January 3 to check the cord flow.   This time our MFM was in the room during the scan.  He looked at us and said, “I think I’m ready to see her on the outside.”  We didn’t ask many questions.  We knew delivery was the best option at her survival.  Hal and I had decided the best chance at us having a live baby was a cesarean birth.  The risks of stillbirth were too great with the induction of a vaginal birth.  We went home, finished packing our bags and were back at the hospital less than 2 hours later to get checked in for the birth of our daughter.

At 2:16 pm on January 3, 2018, Everly Jade Rogers came into the world via cesarean.  She weighed a mighty 570 grams or 1 lb 4 oz and 12 inches long.  She literally came into the world kicking!  She was the strongest, most beautiful baby I had ever seen.  Shortly after her birth, she was whisked away to the NICU with her daddy in tow.  She was remarkable.  She may have been the size of a Coke bottle, but once in her presence, you quickly forgot her size.  She had the biggest personality ever!  She kicked and threw her arms around all the time.  At one point, they had to restrain her little arms & legs to be able to put an IV catheter in.  The nurse told us “your daughter defeated me.”  We laughed, Everly Jade didn’t know she was little.  After less than 24 hours she was extubated and changed to a CPAP machine.  This is the same type of machine you get if you have sleep apnea and snore at night.  She was doing so well!  Shortly after CPAP, they changed her AGAIN to nasal cannula.  This is the same type of nasal tube I had been given during my cesarean.  I was the proudest mom.

The only way I have found to describe the next few days is as follows.  She did so well, until she didn’t.  It seemed every time we would get 1 step ahead, we would get followed with 2 steps back.  We couldn’t get ahead of her.  Her belly started swelling late one night.  The doctors did ultrasounds to figure out if she was bloated due to air or liquid.  At the time, nothing could be determined.  On Sunday, the beginning of the end started.  Her body was becoming acidic.  If the acid in her blood wasn’t able to be under control, her organs would start to fail.  The doctors quickly decided to put in some “pigtail” drains in her abdomen to release the pressure created from the bloating.  At this time, we realized she had liquid in her abdomen which was probably causing the acidity.  We were sat in a room with the doctor and asked the question no parent is ever ready to answer.  “Do you want us to resuscitate your daughter if her heart rate drops?”  Hal and I looked at each other.  We weren’t ready for this type of parenthood.  I finally answered, “can you resuscitate her until we can make a decision based on the situation?”  The doctor agreed and assured us that could be done.  She also told us if her acidity level didn’t change, her organs would begin failing and in a sense she would become pickled from the inside out.  We didn’t know what to do.  So, we prayed.  We asked our friends to pray, our families to pray.  We even asked our preacher to come pray with us as soon as he was done with his Sunday sermon.  We were so close to losing our baby girl.  After her next blood gas, the doctor came to us in disbelief.  Her ph level was starting to come back to normal.  We were overjoyed.  Her next blood gas came back.  It was right where it needed to be.  That evening, I asked the doctor if she was going to sleep that night.  She probably thought I was crazy.  I wanted to know if she felt comfortable enough to close her eyes that night or if she would be near in case of another episode. She told me, she was going to sleep so I should too.  I took great relief in that, and did my best to rest.   She congratulated us again on our daughter. She knew congratulations were in order because of the close call of losing her.  Monday was slightly better than Sunday, but just as bad in a sense.  Due to how distended Everly’s belly was over the weekend, her lungs ended up collapsing.  I stood outside her room, while another surgery took place on my 1 lb diva.  This time, they were placing tubes in her lungs to help where they had collapsed.  At this point, my angel baby is on sedatives and paralytics.  It’s hard seeing our baby lay there so still.  They placed her on the paralytic since she was such a wiggle worm!  They were afraid she would start tugging on drains or tubes that she didn’t need to be messing with.  She was notorious for pulling on tubes.  That night, we went home to rest and left my dad on Everly watch for the second night in a row. It was the worst feeling of my life.  I had a feeling I didn’t need to be far from my baby girl, but I also knew I was helpless in her care.  Around 2:30 or 3:00am, my dad called Hal and told him it was time for us to come.  The doctors were running out of options.  According to my dad, before we got there the monitor screen was blank.  No heart beat, no blood pressure, no oxygen.  He circled the doctors, nurses, my mom (who had beat us there) and anyone else in the room and prayed.  He was terrified we would walk in and see the blank monitors.  After praying, a beep occurred and everyone looked up.  Her heart rate was back where it should be.  Another beep, her oxygen level was picking up.  Another beep, her oxygen level was back to 100%.  Everyone in the room starred in awe at the monitors.  The doctor told my dad, “I believe we just witnessed Divine Intervention.”  Hal and I walk in at this moment.  I couldn’t understand what the fuss was about, her levels looked great!  Her blood pressure wasn’t measuring but I figured she had just moved where it wasn’t able to get a good reading.  I put my fingers on her tiny blood pressure cuff & I begin to pray.  After less than a minute, her blood pressure is perfect.  The next little bit happened so fast.  As quickly as everything went good, it went bad just as quickly.  Her levels started tanking.  We all step back as chest compressions & oxygen are administered.  I sat next to her praying & singing “He’s Got the Whole World in his Hands”.  The doctors and nurses have exhausted every measure by this point.  The doctor looks at me with love and sadness in her eyes and says, “I think its time for you to hold her.”  I knew what that meant.  It meant it was time for my daughter to pass away peacefully in my arms.  We asked if we could call our preacher so we could have her baptized first.  She agreed.  The doctors and nurses then took turns doing chest compressions and oxygen on Everly as Hal and I took turns holding her.  Once our preacher arrived, he baptized our sweet baby, Everly.  At 4:51 am, Everly Jade Rogers went to be with Jesus while being held in her parent’s arms.  While nobody prepares you for the birth of a child, they certainly can’t prepare you for the loss of a child.

The rest of the month was a fog.  I had been pumping milk for Everly every 3 hours while she was alive.  She’s deceased so now what?  My body didn’t know she was gone, so I kept producing milk.   The milk that was going to be her lifeline is now a painful reminder that she is no longer on earth. Before her funeral, we decided I would keep pumping to avoid mastitis and that I would donate all of my milk to a baby I had found out had RSV.  What was supposed to be a few weeks of pumping, turned into months.  In 16 weeks, I roughly pumped 20 gallons of milk.  Even though my pumping journey is done, Everly’s milk is still being consumed by the sweet baby we donated to.  Even though today marks 4 months since her birth and the 4 month mark of her death is fast approaching I can tell you, she impacted far more people in 6 days that I have in all of my years.  People from all over the world have been lucky enough to learn of a loving God that is providing peace and comfort to Everly’s grieving family.  With Mother’s Day around the corner, I know I am a mother.  I may not look like a mother to a stranger, but the mark she left on my abdomen and my heart will stay with me forever.  I told my dad that since becoming a mom I will never be the same.  He replied, “You are forever changed, forEverly changed”

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My Story of Hope- Morgan (My Sister Rylan)

Rylan Richelle Steubing, 19 years of beautiful life… Her name was so unique that she could never find it on a keychain, (much to her dismay) and almost everyone pronounces it “Ryland” and she was so sweet and shy that she would never correct them. So me being four years younger, yet ten times bossier and louder I would correct them for her.

When we were younger, I was about 5 and she was 9 and she would make me answer the phone because she was too shy to.

But… just a few months before she passed, she preached an entire sermon to spanish speaking people with a translator by her side in Peru.. yes! Peru. Safe to say she’d come a long way not only in her shyness but in her walk with God.

Her soul was so pure and sweet and so rare and her death is such an enormous loss to this world, but I can only imagine the praises that were sung when she returned to her heavenly father

Since the day of her death, there are so many “nevers” in my mind that I don’t think I could even list them all:

  • I will never hear her laugh again.
  • I will never see her smile again.
  • I will never fight over her clothes again.
  • I will never go to small coffee shops with her and play jenga ever again.
  • I will never get to hug her again.
  • I will never get to eat the cookies she made (and sometimes burned) ever again.

I’m sure everyone who’s lost someone has these thoughts. This negative, never-ending feeling of despair.
God has taught me in the last year, to take those “nevers” and turn them into being thankful:

  • I am thankful that she got to laugh and had the exact amount of time God himself had planned for her, even if it isn’t what we’d hoped for her on Earth.
  • I am thankful that she had moments in her life that made her smile, and that for the time she was here, she was happy.
  • I am thankful that I had a sister to steal clothes from and bond with.
  • I am thankful that God gave me a built in best friend to live with for the first 15 years of my life, that was a beautiful example of God’s love and being his servant.
  • I am thankful that I got a sister that made me cookies

God has numbered our days. He holds us in the palms of his hands, he knew my sister before she was in my mother’s womb and he knew she would pass away on February 22nd, 2017 in the morning. He knew she would be diagnosed with epilepsy at the age of fourteen and he knew that she would become an amazing woman of God.

All things work together for our good, and we have a good God that will not let me fall no matter the amount of grief I’m under.

Losing my best friend will forever be the most painful thing i’ve ever experienced, but I am more than grateful that I know she is with Jesus, and I know he planned for all of it to happen.

(Say Goodnight written by Morgan Steubing)