May 25th is forever woven into the patchwork quilt of mine and Dave’s lives. 10 years ago I left for my job as an L&D nurse to go deliver other people’s babies. I was 22.6 weeks pregnant with our Baby #6, Molly. I had no idea that by the time I finally returned home, we would have held our baby in our arms and said our goodbyes.
10 years ago, I was in the middle of my third shift in a row. We had been slammed and barely had time to sit down in between delivering all the babies. I realized I hadn’t felt my baby move since the night before, but assumed between sleeping and working that I had just been too busy to notice. I did what no nurse should do and quickly listened for “heart tones” to reassure myself that she was doing just fine in her warm, dark, and safe home. But she wasn’t. And I knew instantly, when I couldn’t find her heartbeat, that she was gone.
My fellow nurses were wonderful to me. They took over my patients I had been caring for; tucked me in a quiet room; comforted me as silent tears poured down my cheeks. My charge nurse, Heidi, called my husband and told him what had happened and that he needed to come to the hospital to be with me.
I got an epidural quickly, not because I couldn’t handle the pain, but because I didn’t want to associate labor pains with heartache. I don’t remember most of the day. I remember Dave sitting by my side, comforting me, holding me, and being the amazingly strong husband for me, despite his own pain he was experiencing. I remember the moment she was born and how all of a sudden it was so real that she was truly gone.
After Molly Claire was born, Dave and I spent a long time holding her, crying, and praying. I remember looking at how her second toe was longer than her first, just like me and a few of her older siblings. I remember she had Dave’s nose. She had blonde hair and a perfect round little head. She was beautiful. My nurse friend, Sabrina, took some beautiful pictures for us. My other nurse friend, Rita, brought in a hand sewn pink little dress and bonnet for her. I was treated so wonderfully, so compassionately, that it made all the difference for Dave and I.
I remember having to let her go, giving her to one of my nurses, knowing she was going to go down to the morgue, to lay all alone, in the dark and in the cold. But Dave wrapped his arms around me and reminded me that she was no longer in that earthly body. She had already gone to join Jesus, and because of that, I was able to let her go.
The pain of losing our child, that I had never met, was almost more than I could bear. It wasn’t just her that we lost, but our hopes and dreams for her, the future we had planned for her, welcoming a little sister , a granddaughter, a niece into our family…But our story does not end there.
Through all of the pain, God was there with us. His grace, his mercy, his peace, and his goodness, carried us through those moments. It wasn’t easy, but God was there with us every step of the way.
I remember a few weeks later, we were at church. One of our pastors, Wayne S. Butts, asked me how I was doing. I said I was fine. I lied. But he saw through it and asked me how was I really doing? I was honest with him, because he really wanted to know. It wasn’t just pleasantries. And through his kindness and prayers, there was a turning point that day, healing began for me. God began to renew me.
I went back to work in L&D, when I had wondered if I would ever be able to walk through those doors again. A year or so later, God began to speak to me and spoke to my heart that we would have another baby. We would have a boy and we would name him Samuel. 10 months later, Samuel was born.
While losing Molly was the hardest thing we have ever had to bear, God was with us. How can I say I lost a child when I know that she is being held in My Savior’s arms? He was faithful, like he always is. He has used my pain to help others in similar situations. He is a good God and I look forward to one day holding my daughter in my arms again. Thank you to everyone who loved us through that time, so long ago. You made all the difference in our lives.