Last week I got the worst text I’ve ever received from a client:
I lost the baby. We had an ultrasound and they couldn’t find her heartbeat. I’m delivering now. Call me when you can.
At 36 weeks, she lost her first baby. And even though she texted me at midnight, I called her right away. I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.
And I think of this baby
who was only a week away from her induction date
whose young mom was so excited for her to come
who was diagnosed with medical issues but was doing well so far
whose mom wasn’t anxious about her baby being in the NICU or having multiple surgeries, and was still as excited as she could be
whose room was ready for her to come home to
And I think of this mom
who took care of herself so well
who was engaged in our home visits and loved learning about her child; who asked excitedly at the end of every visit “what are we talking about next time?”
who painted a chalkboard wall in her baby’s room so that she could draw on the walls when she got older
who picked out a special name and called her by name regularly
who had a great team of doctors working with her; who was consistent with multiple weekly appointments even though they were an hour + away
who was excited to breastfeed and wanted to do everything she could to help her baby be healthy
who had a stress test 2 days earlier and heard baby’s heartbeat, then went in for a doctor’s appointment and was told she was gone
who now has to plan a funeral for her baby, her first child
And I’m heartbroken.
And even though it is such a fraction of the pain and loss the family feels, there’s a loss for me too. I’ve been working with this family for months. I’ve seen this baby grow. I’ve walked with them as they found out about her diagnosis. I was excited for her to be born and I was so excited to see the wonderful mother her Mom would be.
But now we’re all standing here empty handed. And it’s easy to play the “why” and the “what if” game… but one thing I know is true: even though I don’t see it in these circumstances at all, I know that God is good. I would crumble if I couldn’t cling to that truth.
And I know some of you have walked in these shoes. Whether you’ve lost a child through stillbirth or miscarriage, childhood cancer or a car accident, the loss is so heavy. I pray that even when it doesn’t make sense, when your head hurts from weeping so hard and so long… you can know that God is good. He loves you and He cares for you. He is holding your sweet baby and I pray that He would hold you and comfort you too.
He has kept count of your tossings and every tear. (Psalm 56:8) Cling to him, cast all your sufferings and hurt and fear on Him because He cares for you. (1 Pet 5:7)
I pray these truths permeate your hurting hearts.