Uncharted Waters Part 10: The Weight of Grief and Glory|A Mother’s Journey from Death to Life #PregnancyandInfantLossAwareness

THE WEIGHT OF GRIEF AND GLORY

Burying Luke made it final. He was no longer with us.

There would be no rocking our child in the wee hours of the night or cradle bed to lay him down to sleep. No gentle rhythm of baby’s breath or plaintive cry for midnight feeding.

Our house lacked the smells of baby—the lotion, the powder, the diapers, empty or full. I missed simply being able to rest his cheek against mine. To pat his small frame, having my heart swell with motherly love.

All these losses added up and left me restless. Sleep became elusive to me. As I lay in bed, I needed to hold something to fill my empty arms. I grabbed a small pillow and cradled it. Maybe I could fool my heart into believing my baby wasn’t gone.

THE TOLL OF GRIEF

The next morning, Billy and I woke up with a high fevers, chills, and aching bodies. We could barely get out of bed to drive to the doctor. We both had come down with a bad case of strep throat. Grief must have taken its toll and wreaked havoc on our immune systems.

We started a regiment of antibiotics right away. With pulsing head, I rested on the recliner in the living room. Billy was sprawled out on the futon. People from church brought us soup, but neither of us had the strength to heat it up in the microwave.

My stomach growled, and I knew I needed to eat something soon. “Could you heat up dinner, honey?” I croaked.

“Can you do it? I can’t get up,” groaned Billy.

We went back and forth, each trying to coax the other into making dinner.

Finally, Billy spoke up with frustration in his voice. “You’re gonna have to get it. I’m too sick.”

“But, I’m sick and still recovering from having our baby,” I cried out emphatically. “Why can’t you make dinner?”

Billy buried his face deep into his pillow and moaned. April looked worried and upset that her mommy and daddy were arguing.

“Well, if we’re both too sick to even make dinner,” I lamented. “Then who will take care of April?”

“Fine. I’ll call someone.” Billy got up and gave my aunt a call. She agreed to watch April for the night. Forcing myself out of the recliner, I heated up the soup and made us dinner, grumbling inwardly about the unfairness of it all.

A few days later, we were on the mend, but something had shifted between us. Like grief was so heavy, our deep love for each other got buried beneath it. Our relationship was set off course and we drifted further and further apart.

At the same time, something like a shadow crept over me. Even when I went outside in the bright sunlight and pushed April in her swing, it brought me no joy. All I could feel was the heaviness and the shadow.

THE NEW NORMAL

After months of drifting in darkness, Billy and I attended a missions conference for our church. During worship, I felt so overcome with grief, I could barely lift my head. As the music played, I bowed down in worship and felt some of the burden of grief roll off my shoulders.

We partook of communion and a church elder handed me the bread and the wine and spoke a verse over me.

“The old has gone, the new is here.” (2 Corinthians 5:17, NIV)

Everything was different now, but I couldn’t get used to this new normal. I wanted things to go back to how they used to be, before Luke died.

I didn’t know how I could ever be happy again.

For Part 1, click here.

Part 12 is available here.

Uncharted Waters Part 9: Winter's Loss|A Mother’s Journey from Death to Life #PregnancyandInfantLossAwareness

WINTER'S LOSS

On December 6, 2003, the day after Luke died, a hospice volunteer came into our hospital room and handed us a bright purple folder with a butterfly on the cover. There were resources inside listing different ways to cope with grief. One pamphlet gave an explanation for the process of filing a death certificate, tips for planning a funeral, and phone numbers of local funeral homes.

I heaved a great sigh. "This is too overwhelming. I don’t have the strength to sort through such things."

"I'll do it." Billy took the hospital phone and started dialing. He explained our special circumstances and asked if the funeral home had services for babies. He called a cemetery next and found one that offered plots for infants. "This one gives complementary burial services for young children. I think we should go with them. And this cemetery is close to our house."

"Sure. If you think they'd be good. I've never had to plan a funeral before. I have no idea what I'm doing." I started packing up our things.

"Me either." He shrugged.

We headed to the funeral home. The only thing we had to pay for was the coffin. The funeral director guided us through the one page in the catalog full of tiny caskets. When I noticed the prices, I felt anger well up inside of me. Death surely isn't free. But why is it so costly? Aren't we suffering enough?

Nearby, we drove to the cemetery, which housed a section just for babies called "Babyland Garden." We'd have to purchase a plot and a marker. By this time, my mind was swirling, and I just wanted to go home.

Billy filled out the paperwork for the plot and escorted me to the car. I was in excruciating pain by now, not only emotionally, but physically. I didn't have a baby, but my body didn't know that and made milk to feed my child.

At home, my pregnancy and infant books said hardly anything about infant death. I did find a way to help with my engorgement. Cabbage leaves and an Ace bandage. So like Eve, in the garden, I covered myself with leaves and wound a bandage over my wounded heart. It didn't help much.     

FAMILY MATTERS

My small group leader, Mark and another friend, Barb, called us and offered to create a plan for the funeral. Barb designed a beautiful card with Luke’s picture on it to give out, and Mark offered to help arrange all that would be shared.

The date was set and many friends and family said they would come, including my mother, stepfather, and dad. It was comforting to know they would be there for us in our time of grief.

The night before the funeral, my mother called to say she wasn’t going to come. She said my stepfather and older brother got into a heated argument, and he was too upset to drive her to the cemetery.

It would have meant so much for all of my parents to come to Luke’s funeral.

That night, I shared the problem with my small group. As I wept, they all laid their hands on me and prayed. They were the hands and feet of Jesus to comfort me in my time of grief.

“As a mother comforts her child,
so will I comfort you;” (Isaiah 66:13)

BLUE SKIES AND HOPE FOR TOMORROW

The day of the funeral, I decided that I wasn’t going to wear black. Instead, I wore a sky blue blouse and a skirt covered with blue cornflowers. Wearing blue reminded me that I had hope, because I knew, one day I would see Luke again.

We drove to the cemetery, where empty chairs stood beneath a green canopy.  Luke’s body was encased in a baby-sized white casket on a table. There was a small rectangular hole dug in the ground behind the canopy, which was the slightly larger than the coffin.

The funeral staff asked Billy if he wanted to place Luke in the grave by himself. His mouth dropped. Then he slowly nodded.

Soon, people started to arrive and toiled their way up to the canopy. One by one, they paused at a table that held the coffin, reflected for awhile, and placed a daisy on top. Many hugged us as they offered their tearful condolences.

Unexpectedly, my mother and stepfather toiled up the path. Despite my grief, a spark of joy touched my heart. They gave me a hug, and I invited them to sit with me.

Mark stood up and spoke a about Luke’s short life, and our hope in Christ. My brother and sister in-law, John and Krista, had agreed they would share next.

Krista read a poem that I adapted for Luke called “Reunion” from Misty by Carole Gift Page.

Someday when I’m old

And someone asks if I’m looking forward to heaven

I’ll say I’m eager to see my Jesus

But there’s someone else I want to see too.

I’ll say

It’s been thirty or forty years since I’ve seen [him].

And the time we spent together was all too brief—

[eight hours]

That’s all,

And [he] was so tiny and frail

[He] spent that time just trying to breathe.

I never had a chance to find out who [he] was

Or what [he] was like—

What [he] could have done,

What [he] could have been,

But [he] was my child,

Flesh of my flesh,

My own,

And I love [him]

With limitless love.

My other children grew up

And grew older with me

But this one—

The one I’m longing to see—

Stayed the same through the years—

[His] face fixed in my memory like a faded snapshot,

Its corners worn from too much handling.

Through the years,

The good and bad times,

I’ve dreamed of that distant reunion

And imagined the moment

I could look [him] in the eyes

And say,

Darling,

Your mother’s missed you

But we’ll never be apart again.

Adaptation of “Reunion,” from Misty by Carole Gift Page

Our brother-in-law ambled up to the front of where everyone was seated. He lifted a folded piece of paper and opened it. Billy had written the letter for him to read:

Dear Luke,

What can I say? You are my one and only little boy. I held you in my arms for such a very short time. Eight hours, that was all the time that God allowed us to have with you. But, let me assure you that they were some of the best hours of my life. It was pure joy for me to hold you and kiss your sweet little head, and place my finger in your tiny little hand.

It was simply pure joy to know you little one. When your little hand seemed to squeeze my finger and one of your little eyes opened to peek at me. To see you breathing much longer than the doctors said you would.

I’m sorry that I did not get to know you better in my life. I’m sorry that we didn’t get to do all the things that daddies and little boys get to do. I wanted so much to take you to the park and push you in the swing, teach you how to ride a bike, take you fishing, and play catch.

But, that was not in God’s plan. God’s plan was for you to stay with your mommy and me for just a short time, and then to go to heaven to be with Him. God loves you very much and has a special purpose for you there. I think you are very happy there, too. There is no sickness, no pain, or cruelty up there like there is down here. Heaven is a place filled with love, for God is love and you can trust Him to take care of you.

As for me, I’m happy that you’re with Him, but sad that you’re leaving without me. Your mommy and I miss you very much and will think about you every day. But, don’t worry, one day we’ll come to heaven to live with God, too, and we’ll be with each other again.

Remember that I love you very much and you will stay in my heart forever.

Love,

Daddy

A few puffy clouds floated across the sky like woolly sheep on a baby blue blanket. A gentle breeze made the air cool and pleasant.

As a friend strummed the guitar and sang, “Amazing Grace,” Billy stood before Luke’s little coffin and wrapped his arms around it. He hugged the box which housed his son, close to his heart.

My family softly gasped.

As he stepped one foot at a time into the grave and gently lowered the coffin, setting it down onto the cool, soft earth.

When Billy came up out of the grave, he stood next to April and me. She was holding a red balloon that pulled to the right as the wind rushed past us. We all held the balloon and then released it together.

The balloon sailed high into the sky, floating up to the clouds. At the same time, I lifted my hands in worship of my Lord and King, who I still believed was good, even though He had allowed us to experience such sorrow.

“Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
they are ever praising you. 

Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. 

Lord Almighty,
blessed is the one who trusts in you.”

(Psalm 84: 4, 5, 12)

For Part 1, click here.

Part 10 is available here.

Uncharted Waters Part 8: Departure|A Mother’s Journey from Death to Life #PregnancyandInfantLossAwareness

HOLDING ONTO HOPE

Hours passed. Luke took small breaths every now and then. The nurses brought Billy and me some turkey sandwiches. I forced myself to take a few bites, knowing that I needed to keep up my strength to be there for Luke.

Billy shook his head somberly, refusing to eat anything. This only sapped his strength and before long, he fell asleep.

“While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept, for I said,

‘Who knows whether the Lord will be gracious to me, that the child will live?

(2 Samuel 12:22 ESV)

TIME TO SAY GOODBYE

It was around eleven o'clock at night. While I held Luke, my small group leader Mark, and my sister-in-law, Krista conversed freely about the excitement of going on mission trips. I shared about my trip to Ukraine, and the joy of sharing Christ with people of other nations.

In the middle of our conversation, I hugged Luke to myself. He seemed lighter. As if he was gone.

The nurse on hand checked him. "No heartbeat."

Mark gently awakened Billy. Amidst tears, I passed our baby to him. "He's with the Lord."

Billy was struck with the weight of grief as he cradled the body of our son.

An hour before midnight, about eight hours from when Luke first entered this world, he had silently slipped away.

A GRIEF SHARED

As I watched Billy, I realized Jesus was now holding Luke safe in His arms.

“He tends his flock like a shepherd:

He gathers the lambs in his arms

and carries them close to his heart” 

(Isaiah 40:11)

I didn’t want us to hold on to Luke’s body too long. I wanted to remember him as he was, before he started to lose his rosy color.

After the nursing staff rechecked his vitals and confirmed that he was gone, we passed his body to them to be held for burial.

That night, Billy and I fell asleep holding each other in the hospital bed. We both woke in the middle of the night and remembered Luke. Billy started weeping first, then I joined him.

The grief we shared that night echoed the throbbing pain in our hearts.

For Part 1, click here.

Part 9 is available here.

Uncharted Waters Part 7: Arrival|A Mother’s Journey from Death to Life #PregnancyandInfantLossAwareness

“Jesus called them to him, saying,

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them,

for to such belongs the kingdom of God.”

(Luke 18:16, ESV)

THE WHY OF SUFFERING

On December 5, 2003, stabbing pain sliced through my abdomen every few minutes.  Thinking I was in labor, Billy drove me to the hospital.

The maternity ward was full that afternoon. We had to sit for a long time in the waiting room. A young woman with a swollen belly like mine took a chair next to us. She looked like she was about seventeen and was giving birth alone.

As we talked, I found myself starting to feel jealous of this young girl who was probably going to have a healthy baby. Why couldn’t I have a healthy child, too?

The girl left to have her baby, and I was left to struggle with trusting God. The “why” of suffering threatened to overwhelm me and steal my peace. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the truth. God is letting me go through this valley of grief, but He is not going to leave me. He hasn’t turned His back on me. Will I turn my back on Him?

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I fear no evil, for You are with me;

Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.” (Psalm 23:4, NASB)

PEACE RESTORED

My peace returned when I thought of Christ’s unfailing love for me displayed in His suffering on the cross. Despite my sinfulness and brokenness, He still loved me. I could still trust in the One who died for me.

Billy and I prayed for the girl that she would come to know Christ and know that she was never alone.

There were no rooms available, so we were ushered to a bed separated by curtains from other patients. The labor was long, and it was hard telling each nurse attending us that our baby was going to die. One nurse, who was sympathetic to our situation, found us a spare room.

It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and the time had come for the baby to be born. A resident doctor originally from India took up the assignment to deliver our child. She was young, but I felt confident I was in good hands. As I gave the final push, the nursing staff stood by, quietly awaiting to attend to our baby.

SILENT NIGHT, HOLY NIGHT

As soon as I gave birth, the doctor gently unwound the umbilical cord that was wrapped around the baby’s neck. She delicately passed our child over to the attending nurses.

Everyone was silent.

Billy watched as the nurses checked over the baby. I watched for a sign, a miracle that kidneys had suddenly appeared and everything was going to be fine.

Another doctor listened to the stethoscope on the baby's chest and then pressed along the baby's back. "Bilateral renal agensis and pulmonary hypoplasia."

"You don't want emergency medical interventions?"

Billy shook his head no.

My eyes filled with tears. We had agreed to let our baby die naturally. "No intervention." I barely said the words.

The doctor placed our child in Billy's arms.

“It’s a boy,” he said with tears glistening in his eyes.

This stunned me. I thought our baby would be a girl, maybe because we already had a daughter.

I reached out and placed my hand on his little head.

Luke Joseph Griese is name, and he is our son.

Billy gently handed Luke over to me. He wasn’t much heavier than the blankets he was wrapped in. His eyes were shut tight.

I wanted so much to hold his little hands. I unwrapped his right hand and held it.  These were the five miniature fingers that I longed to touch as he pushed against my womb. Nestled up to my chest, so small, so precious, I could almost believe he was going to live. My heart swelled with love. A love which pushed out all fears.

A few close friends and family members came to visit. My small group leaders Mark and Cecilia Groff, my uncle Donald, and Billy’s family. 

Everyone gathered around us to admire the beautiful creation laid in my arms. We were surrounded by love.

Uncle Mike

Nana

PERFECT PEACE

Cecilia, suggested to me that it would be a good idea to nurse him. I was reluctant at first, afraid that he would choke. But, after some thought, I reconsidered. When I tried to nurse him, he was too weak, and by the time I finally gave up, both Luke and I were frustrated.

Mark read to us from the Bible, Revelation 21, a passage which vividly described the future city of God, the eternal home of His children.

“Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God Himself will be with them and be their God. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”   

Then He who sat on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new” (Revelation 21:3-5). 

As he read, Luke stopped breathing. His lips paled. I felt him slipping away. We silently prayed for him and waited.

He moved his arms. His rosebud lips turned pink and his cheeks became rosy. He cried and put his hand to his mouth. Was he hungry?

I attempted to nurse him again. This time, successfully. We lay there together in perfect peace.  Luke opened one eye to peek at me. He caught a glimpse of his mommy who loved him with all her heart.

Luke was breathing, but he still had Potter’s Syndrome. His lungs hadn’t fully developed, and he had no kidneys. I knew he wouldn’t have much time with us. I thanked God for each hour that we were granted to spend with our little boy.

“Love never ends…So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:8, 13)

For Part 1, click here.

Part 8 is available here.

Uncharted Waters Part 6: The One True Ballast|A Mother’s Journey from Death to Life #PregnancyandInfantLossAwareness

NOWHERE ELSE TO TURN

Utterly alone, I longed for Billy to lament with me but he was avoiding his own grief.

“Billy, I need to tell you something.”

He shut off the T.V. “What is it?”

“I don’t think God is going to heal our baby.”

“Stop saying that. Just keep praying.”

“I have been praying. But every time we go to the doctor, the baby’s kidneys still aren’t there.”

He got up. “It’s getting late, and I have to work tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.” He kissed me on top of my head.

A BETTER COMFORT

I tried to sleep, but with no amniotic fluid, the baby’s movements were not cushioned. Pregnancy had become painful. I worried that if I was hurting, was the baby suffering? 

When the worries became overwhelming, I grabbed my Bible and new leather journal and headed out to the living room. I snuggled into my plush recliner chair, placed the Bible on my swollen belly, and poured over Scripture.

As I read each Psalm, I knew my Savior was with me. He instilled in me His strength and peace. I poured out my heart and prayers to the Lord and filled the empty pages of my journal with any encouragement I could find.

November 28, 2003

I lie awake in bed this morning, not wanting to get up. This being the last trimester of my pregnancy, I have felt too weak and tired to pray. I looked at my Bible thinking, there’s no way I’ll wake up enough to read. 

The urge to use the restroom got me out of bed. As I trudged to the bathroom, I realized that I needed the Lord to give me enough strength to desire to “seek His face,” so I prayed for help.

My mind was foggy, but I sensed God speak to my heart. “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, his love endures forever.”

I spoke this truth out loud and then prayed again.

“Please, Lord, give me the strength to seek Your face diligently, and to read Your Word.”

I opened my eyes and felt strengthened. I grabbed my Bible and happened to turn to the gospels, in the Book of Luke and my eyes landed on Chapter 19, verse 28.

It was when Jesus entered Jerusalem at the time of the Passover feast, before He was crucified. I thought about how joyful the people were when they shouted, “Hosanna!” which means, God saves. 

Many people recognized that Jesus was yet again fulfilling prophecy about the Messiah, and they cried, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord.”

I wondered where this prophecy was in the Bible. The footnote said Psalm 118:26.  I turned to Psalm 118 and the first verse said,

“Give thanks to the Lord for he is good, his love endures forever.”

The very same verse God spoke to my heart.

Yes, the Lord is good, and His love endures forever, and He shall reign as King forever. He reveals Himself to me and reminds me who He is. He is the God who saves.

STAYING AFLOAT

Facing the death of my baby was like acknowledging I was on a journey aboard a ship I didn’t want to be on. With the storm clouds of grief looming over the horizon, I needed something to keep me from sinking.

During rough waters, the extra weight of a ballast or heavy load of stones would right a ship and keep it from capsizing.

The one and only true and perfect ballast that kept me from sinking was Jesus Christ. When the waves of grief crashed over me, threatening to submerge me in its dark, despairing depths, His love was deep within my heart, keeping me afloat.

The Lord was taking care of me. I could still trust Him in my pain.

When I was overwhelmed, His words became real to me, and my only anchor of hope. I knew He wasn’t going to leave me—especially now that I needed Him so much.

Some nights, I agonized about what was going to happen and became captive to all my fears.  The burden of it threatened to crush me until I surrendered my worries to the Lord. I laid them at His feet in prayer and entrusted myself to whatever He had planned for me and my baby. I was finally able to sleep peacefully and had enough strength to make it through the next day.

For Part 1, click here.

Part 7 is available here.