Grief hits home

| May 11, 2012 | 0 Comments

 

Julie called to say they were at the hospital. “They’re having trouble hearing the baby’s heart beat and they want to check everything out.” For twenty-three weeks everything had gone so well.

I prayed for everything to be all right, but I didn’t get what I prayed for.

When Lyn and I walked into the hospital room Julie was already in the patient garb and Scott was fidgeting with something. A nurse was just finishing an Ultrasound, so we stood along the wall and waited.


“Mom, I don’t feel any movement, no kicking!” Julie’s eyes filled with tears and her voice broke. She was so brave!

We prayed for the baby, for Julie and Scott, for the nurses, for the doctors. We prayed for God to change what we feared had already happened.

Next, Julie’s Doctor did the final Ultrasound, after a few minutes she put down the pad and looked up, “Julie, there is no heartbeat; the baby’s dead.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I think the clock stopped.  We were lost in shock. Before anyone could react, Julie cried out in a long wailing moan of agony that ripped at my heart. “Noooooooo!”

All I knew was that I wanted to comfort her, to hold her, to grieve with her. I took a step, one step toward the bed, but before I could take another, my heart was hit with a double whammy.

Julie reached up into the arms of Scott. He was her comforter. He was her first touch.

That day, March 30, 1999, we lost Madeline, our first grandchild. We mourned her before we even knew her. And, on that day I finally realized my oldest daughter had grown up and it hit me hard. Scott had taken my place. It was the way it should be, but the loss hurt just the same.

Only God knows how to comfort that kind of grief. And true to his promise he was more than a guide; his presence reassured us all and strengthened our faith. And I felt his touch and heard his voice.

And, before I knew what had happened, he had used those moments to restore my soul.

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