Baby Sister

Somehow a month has gone by. Milly Joy was born on October 15, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. A day when I will always think of my Ellis and now will always celebrate my Milly Joy. I'm glad my two babies can share that day.

She's named for two of her great-grandmothers -- Mildred and Joyce. Two women that left amazing legacies of faith. Two women that I hope Milly will grow to be like. And, I love the sentiment of her carrying the name Joy. She has renewed our joy in ways I didn't anticipate. I didn't know we could feel like this again.

Bringing Milly home has made me miss Ellis with a new intensity. I'm seeing and doing all the things I longed to do with him. It allows me to cherish these moments with Milly, but makes my heart ache for what was lost. It's been difficult to put any of this into words, but I do know the emotions run deep. I've become accustomed to the tangling of joy and sorrow in my life, this last month accentuated that. With time and practice I'm finding better ways to wear both well.

Sharing Our Story

Elizabeth's writing is something I have come to love since meeting her last December. I suppose it's because so much of who she is comes out in her words. Today some of our story is being shared over at her blog. Feel free to take a peek. While you're there, I hope you'll take a moment to read through some of her pieces. I think you'll leave refreshed.

One year

My dear, sweet Ellis,

      Today you would have been one. That means, a year ago I held you in my arms for the first and last time. How could a year have passed already? I think of you so often throughout the day. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have you here. Or sometimes I try to imagine what your life must be like in Heaven. Mostly, I just plain miss you. My mama heart grew the moment I found out about you and kept growing until the day you were born. From June 27^th on, it has felt like my heart might burst with all the love I have for you. But with nowhere to place that mama love, I could feel myself being crushed from the inside out. You are missed, my little one, and you are loved. Oh, are you loved.

     In my mind, I find myself replaying the events leading up to your arrival, as well as the moments that define your birthday. Although I don’t always feel the intensity of the ache I did then, I find the mere memory of that day allows me to feel it all again. People keep telling me that with time the pain will soften. In many ways I’m grateful. It’s hard to live life with this aching burden permeating every inch of my soul, but I don’t want to forget how I felt in the days when I was closest to you. It’s part of my experience with you and that is something I don’t want to lose.

     Remembering your birthday also reminds me of so much good. You were born alive and I held you in my arms. That alone is evidence of God’s grace and kindness to us. But, He didn’t stop there. He allowed so many members of our family to be there when you were born and many others to join us later that day. He looked on us with favor when He allowed such kind nurses and doctors to be on duty while we were there. And His peace and presence was so evident that day. I remember feeling like the gates of Heaven were opened up in that hospital room. Daddy and I held you first, but later we knew we had handed you straight to Jesus. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Ellis, the joy of that day was that although your life wasn’t meant to be spent here on Earth, I know you are living healthy and whole in a place I don’t yet know. You were healed that day. Not in the way I had hoped and prayed for, but something I’ve come to learn is that the ways of our God are perfect, even when it doesn’t match my plan.

     Early this morning we went to your tree. When the clock turned to 5:08am, Daddy and I recalled the joy of that moment. “He made it! He’s alive!” Your strong Daddy exclaimed. We held you, watched you breathe, experienced your life. It was short, much too short. And the seeming injustice of celebrating your birthday by standing in the quiet next to a tree instead of with loud shouts of “Happy Birthday!” and singing to you for the hundredth time that day weighed heavy on my heart as the minutes at the tree ticked by. I don’t always know what to do with those feelings, but our big, good God does and even now, as my heart hurts so deeply, He’s meeting me here like He did in that room one year ago today.

     I hate that I’m writing a letter to you that I don’t know if you’ll be able to read. It feels like I need to cram a lifetime of love onto this page, but Ellis, I know there’s more to look forward to. This isn’t the end. “He has placed eternity in the human heart,” and I can’t wait to meet you there someday.

     Today, Daddy and I will do our best to remember you well. We want to celebrate your life, acknowledging the great gift we were given when God allowed us to become your parents.

I miss you, Baby Bear. Happy Birthday.
Love, Mama 

A sister for Ellis

We’ve been told this little growing life is a girl. And, we’re thrilled. I think it would have been an emotional experience no matter the gender of this baby. It suddenly gave dimension to this baby’s role as a sibling of Ellis. I’ve been missing him intensely these days. It’s been nearly a year since I held him in my arms and I can’t stop thinking about that. I suppose I’ve learned to carry my grief in my heart and not so much on my sleeve, but recently it’s spilling out, often unexpectedly.

All this remembering of his little life is coming at a time when I’m also flooded with thoughts of the future. What will she be like? What will she look like? How can I make sure she learns to know Ellis even though he left before she came? How do I help her love Jesus?

The sorrow intertwined with the joy in my life right now is a bit overwhelming. Call it grief, hormones, emotion, or what have you. Call it life. This side of heaven I don’t know how to reconcile this dichotomy in my thoughts and emotions. So, I keep on doing what I’ve been doing for the last 15 months: “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

Redemption

With great frequency, I find myself re-reading my words from this time last year. I’ve yet to do so and not burst into tears. It doesn’t take much for my heart and mind to rush back to that time, experiencing those emotions as if it’s for the first time. Sometimes, I’m still shocked this is my story. Is it really possible we lived through that? Did our firstborn really come and go so quickly? It seems to be common of the human condition that we struggle to embrace parts of who we are or what we’ve become. I’ve never felt that so strongly until I became Ellis’s mother. And yet, in all of this mess, I see Him doing something beautiful. I look at the short life my baby boy was blessed with and know that God did something amazing there. As I read the words I wrote then, His presence is palpable, even a year later. If I’m being truly honest, I have to admit I struggle to feel and know Him now like I did then. I cling to what I know to be true, but sometimes I wonder how I did it at the time, because it seems more difficult today.

Angie Smith wrote about it this way. I resonate deeply with her words here. It hurts and it’s harder than I thought it could be, but I trust, I know He will redeem all things. The beauty in that promise is simply overwhelming. It restores hope and awakens joy to the inner reaches of my weary soul. 

He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."
Revelation 21:5

Movement

Sometimes it feels like my brain is stuck, unable to move away from painful memories of the past, anxious thoughts about the present, and worries regarding the future. Thankfully, God’s grace is all about making us completely new, a catalyst for change and renewal. I need that, desperately. Recently, I’ve been pondering where I get stuck and beginning to recognize the spaces where movement is taking place in my life.

A year ago at this time, my heart was aching for Ellis. He was here, with me, all the time, but I was anticipating his early departure. I knew it would come soon and frantically sought to bottle up every moment I had with him.  Looking back, I see that time as this strange combination of the best and worst time of my life. It was good because he was here. I could feel him move. After he was gone, I missed that experience the most. But knowing it wouldn't last long made that time feel terrible. I find myself re-reading journal entries from that time in an attempt to feel close to him again.  That old, familiar pain rushes in and I miss him with renewed intensity. Part of me is thankful these days don’t feel so laden with sorrow, but I long for those days when I grieved with him still in my womb. Today, the grief certainly isn’t gone, but it’s evolved and at times, is much more muted. Movement. A shift has taken place in my heart, where I now look back to time already spent with him and look ahead to when I’ll be with him again.  Surges of hope, remind me that this isn’t where it all ends. I’m so thankful. 

The greatest shift has occurred in my status as a mother. Ellis made me a mama, but losing him complicated that. Yes, I was still a mother many promised me, but truth be told, it’s hard to feel that way when you aren’t actively doing so. My “mama-love” threatened to crush me from the inside out, but with nowhere to place it, I felt stuck. Today, I again fall into the category of Expectant Mama and it feels so good to mother again. This new little one, Ellis’s little sibling, has provided an outlet for my “mama-love” and I no longer feel so overwhelmed by that urge. Movement. It hasn’t replaced the pain, but it has certainly been salve on a deep wound. Every time I feel this baby move I am reminded of the goodness of our God and how He’s carried me over the course of this year. Without Him, I would be permanently stuck.

Psalm 40:1-3a
I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. 

6 months

Half a year. It doesn't seem possible for my time with him to be so far away on the calendar. Soon we'll turn the page to a new year, leaving him behind in 2011. Part of me is ready to start a new year, hopeful that it won't be so hard as this one has been. But, the other part of me is sad to move on into a year in which he never lived. For Tim and me, 2011 was defined by Ellis. I remember pondering that during New Year's Eve last year. I thought to myself, "This is the year my baby will be born. 2011 will always be important to us." I had no idea that it would also be the year my baby would die.

6 months later I still struggle with the idea that all of this was unfair. I see God's blessings and grace and know that those too are unfair, but the unfairness of losing Ellis does not sit well in my heart. I don't always feel this way, but it would be dishonest to say that I never felt this way. I'm working on it. I'm learning to trust that His way is truly good and that the plans I concoct for myself are not promised and may not even be good. It's a difficult road to navigate when what you desire seems to be a good thing. Seeing Ellis healed here on Earth, didn't seem like a bad idea. And yet, God in his infinite goodness chose to do otherwise.

I spoke with another grieving mother on Christmas Eve and she shared wonderful insight and words of love with me. She reminded me that we have a choice when we suffer and that licking our wounds, dwelling in the dark, is not going to bring about healing. The little baby born in the manger should cause those of us who suffer to celebrate more than the rest this Christmas. I have to admit, my heart did not feel very celebratory over the weekend, but knowing that my baby boy is rejoicing in Heaven this holiday season reminds me that I should be rejoicing with him. He sees it from a different perspective than I do, but we celebrate the birth of the same Savior. And without that Savior, there would be no reason to rejoice.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, as well.

With love,
Rebecca

Thoughts at 4 months

Here we are again, acknowledging the passing of another month. It’s been four now. Sometimes I allow myself to think about what it would be like to be celebrating four months of life, as opposed to only remembering that it was four months ago he was here. It’s a big difference. He’d have grown so much by now, I’m sure. Now that autumn is truly here, we’d make sure to bundle him up warm and cozy…probably acting as over-zealous first time parents who are sure the baby will freeze in this mid-fifties weather. Maybe we would’ve moved him from our room into his room. I’d probably be missing him at nights, wishing he were closer. Kind of like how I miss him now, perpetually wishing him to be somewhere nearby. And of course, I’d be worrying and researching about taking him on his first airplane ride as we’re heading to see family over Thanksgiving and then again at Christmas. Instead my life is very different, quite void of all of that.

I’ve found I can’t let my mind stay in that place where “what if’s” contrast so starkly with reality. It’s not good for my mind or my soul. But Tim and I both think about it from time to time and it makes me wonder what it would be like to experience all of that. For now I watch those life-altering transitions occur in other family’s homes and hope for the day when it will happen in mine. This is a House of Hope, after all. Our minds may get stuck in the wondering why this is our reality and not that, but that does not mean we are not without hope. Our tender hearts are learning to trust that our big, good God knows what He is doing. I can rest in that, even when my heart becomes anxious wondering what our future will look like.

There are still some who are brave enough or kind enough to ask us how we’re doing. I know not everyone is sure how to handle that. I think some are afraid they will open up a wound by asking, but the truth is the “wound” is still open and never far from our minds. We’re not being reminded of its existence when someone asks, but more being reminded that others remember Ellis too. Tears may still come when someone asks, “How are you,” but that doesn’t mean we don’t welcome the question.  And still, four months later, we don’t always know what to say. So, we often stumble over our words and come across as confused. I guess that’s because we are. Grief is quite confusing.

Let me explain.

We ache. My heart still physically hurts most of the time. Even in those moments when laughter fills the air and there's fun to be had, it's still there.  

We have hope. We pray for restored joy and believe that God will grant us that. It makes it possible to get up and do it all again each day.

We’re scared. What will the next year of our lives look like? We’re now very aware that you can plan out your life all you want, but no moment in the future is certain. It can be hard to face an unknown future without fear.

And yet, we’re thankful. God has been so incredibly good, even in this. There is honestly so much to be thankful for that I don’t know where to begin. So, you’ll just have to trust me that we are truly blessed people.  

The emotions are conflicting and it’s hard to convey all that we think, feel, and experience. As much as I can write and talk about all of this, I feel as though I can’t adequately describe the journey. We appreciate that we’re still able to tell our family’s story. For now, we continue to heal, grow, and change through all of this.

With love,

Rebecca

October 15th

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  It’s a day set aside to pause and remember each of those little lives that have made such a big impact. It’s not just Ellis. Every day others’ stories are being written. In many ways, October 15^th is just another day for us, but now because of the turning point in our own story, today is an opportunity to stop and reflect…to remember. Perhaps, for someone else, October 15^th means something, just like we have many dates that carry deep meaning for us.

December 16^th: we found out a baby was on the way. Worry, fear, and elation filled our souls.

January 5^th: we caught our first glimpse of that precious baby. Joy and anticipation beat within our hearts.

April 6^th: we saw him again, but also heard those awful words, “incompatible with life.”Again, fear, worry, and now sorrow coursed through our veins.

June 27^th: he came and he went, we held him in our arms. Overflowing love, indescribable ache, forever changed.

August 17^th: his due date. He was already gone, but that date represented something poignant, something that might have been. Empty arms and lingering pain, but paired with hope and, again, anticipation of joy to come.

So, although today, October 15^th, is just another day for us, it now carries meaning because of all those other dates that tell our story. Today is a reminder that all those lost babies were precious lives, particularly for those that carried them, whether in their womb, in their arms, or in their hearts. The parents of these babies remember them every day. Other family members and close friends may as well. Today we ask that others do too. It might not be your story, but it is ours. So, please…remember with us today.

3 months

3 months. In many ways I’m shocked to find myself here. How did time move so quickly? My heart remains bound to the moments when I could feel Ellis kick, hear his heartbeat, or better yet, hold him in my arms. And somehow, our time with him seems so far away. For many others, his life may seem distant despite the fact that thoughts of him fasten to every other thought in my mind.  I guess it is just that way when the baby was yours and not somebody else’s.

And yet, with each new day I’m reminded that I’m one day closer to him. My baby is already living a jubilant life in Heaven with Jesus. When I stop and truly consider that, it’s astounding. He’s living and he’s in Heaven with Jesus. It’s exciting. It’s overwhelming. It’s hopeful. It’s good. In my best moments, this is where my mind dwells. I’m praying for more moments like these.

3 months later, there is still so much to process. I keep discovering new things about myself, my husband, our families, our friends, and our God. Every child is a gift and we are continuing to experience the blessing of Ellis, even if we didn’t bring him home with us.  Our hearts ache, because we were the ones left behind, but our hearts can simultaneously celebrate because new life is ours too. Since our God was and is willing to give “new life so generously” we can hold onto that hope. One day, one amazing and glorious day, we will live as Ellis lives: in Heaven with Jesus. I can’t wait.

Titus 3:3-8 (The Message)

"It wasn't so long ago that we ourselves were stupid and stubborn, dupes of sin, ordered every which way by our glands, going around with a chip on our shoulder, hated and hating back. But when God, our kind and loving Savior God, stepped in, he saved us from all that. It was all his doing; we had nothing to do with it. He gave us a good bath, and we came out of it new people, washed inside and out by the Holy Spirit. Our Savior Jesus poured out new life so generously. God's gift has restored our relationship with him and given us back our lives. And there's more life to come—an eternity of life! You can count on this.”

Don't miss the miracles

Someone observing our lives for the last five months might come to the conclusion that God didn't answer our prayers or perform any miracles.  After all, numerous people from all over the world joined us in lifting up Ellis in prayer for almost three months, yet he died shortly after being born much like the doctors expected.  We believe that over the last couple months God answered many prayers and even performed miracles. 

It's true that God didn't answer our major prayer request the way we hoped He would.  For reasons we don't understand it was His plan to take Ellis home.  Ellis was God's to give and Ellis was God's to take.  But there were many other prayer requests that God graciously granted to us.  Topping the list was that we met Ellis.  From the first ultrasound when we found Ellis's complications to the 25th week when the amniotic fluid went bone dry to the moments when we lost his heart beat during labor, Ellis wasn't supposed to make it.  We prayed fervently that God would give us the chance to meet Ellis alive and God obliged.  God also answered prayer by giving us peace through the really tough times.  There were many occasions between April 6th and June 27th when God covered us in grace, but the one time that sticks out in my mind was our last few moments with Ellis's earthly body.  It was a moment I had dreaded.  In the hours leading up to saying good-bye I didn't think I could do it.  I thought I was going to have to be physically held back from chasing the nurse down the hallway after she took Ellis's body.  In that time we were covered with peace.  We had a wonderful last couple of moments saying good-bye to our son that I will never forget.  It still wasn't easy but we both felt an overwhelming peace when it came time to call the nurse to take Ellis away.

We also believe that God performed many miracles.  Miracles don’t have to break the laws of nature in front of multitudes of people.  We believe miracles are simply the works of God.  Sometimes God parts the seas or walks on water, other times His ways are more subtle but no less profound.  Ellis himself was a miracle, a wonder of God's creation.  The outpouring of support we received from family, friends, and strangers was miraculous.   The impact of Ellis's short life continues to be a miracle.  His story has been in sermons, Sunday school classes, letters, blogs, emails, and conversations.  God is using Ellis’s life, which lasted less than an hour, to reach many lives.  While we can’t fully understand God’s plan to take Ellis, we believe God has given us just a glimpse into His scheme by letting us see some of the ways Ellis impacted people.   For that, we are grateful.

-Tim

The Truth

This coming Monday it will have been 7 weeks since we met our baby boy and held him in our arms. It feels like a long time ago, which is hard. We don’t like feeling so far away from June 27^th, because it makes us feel far away from Ellis. The memories aren’t as fresh and already we begin to wonder, “did it happen this way or that way?” For us, the memories are a mix of joy and sorrow. We met Ellis! But, we also had to give him away. It’s not easy to do that so quickly.

Daily we’re asked, “How are you doing?”Honestly, it’s a tricky question to answer. Sometimes we don’t know what to say, because our emotions are all over the place. In the moments when I’m feeling at peace, I fool myself into thinking I’ll feel this way all day. Only to be kicked in the gut with sorrow or frustration. When I feel deep in the pit, I think I might never get out, yet joy and peace find their way in. So, to answer your question: We’re doing OK…I think. We have moments of joy, sorrow, peace, and frustration. Sometimes, all in a row (practically simultaneously), but from what I hear, that’s OK.

As Tim and I navigate this path, there are three thoughts I keep running into. You know when you feel like God’s really trying to teach you something because you keep hearing or reading the same idea over and over. Well, that’s me right now. Ever since April 6^th, when we heard something was wrong and knew our lives would be changed because of it, I kept coming back to the simple truths about God I’d been taught my whole life. These three truths have been in my thoughts frequently these last few weeks.

1.       We are in the midst of God’s perfect plan for our lives. Strange isn’t it? Life doesn’t feel perfect right now, yet I know God is sovereign and I believe His ways are perfect. This is part of God’s plan for our lives. I don’t fully know why, but I know I can trust His will for my life.

 “This God – his way is perfect”  
-Psalm 18:30 (ESV)  

2.       God’s grace is sufficient. It’s bigger and greater than my biggest and greatest problem. Those low moments we find ourselves in are not without hope, because we KNOW God’s grace still covers us there. And it is He who carries us through those valleys. It is in God’s nature to give abundantly and He gives us a bottomless ocean of grace.

 “But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 
- 2 Corinthians 12:9 (ESV)

3.       He is near. These last four months have been hard and there have been moments, days, and weeks when we felt like we were just scraping by. But, I can say with confidence that I have never experienced the nearness of God like I have in these last four months.  There are days ahead that can bring me to my knees with fear and anxiety, but thoughts of those days are coupled with the knowledge that God is near. I have never been more certain of that in my life.

 “But as for me, the nearness of God is my good”
-Psalm 73:28 (NASB)

Today, nearly 7 weeks since Ellis was born and died, we are thankful to know that our God is good. He is so very good.  

“Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good. His love endures.” 
-Psalm 136:1 (NIV)

With love, Rebecca

Lesson from Ellis

I've been encouraged by a few people to post what I shared at Ellis's service. It is a bit long for a blog post so here is a link to a pdf of what I said.

Tim 

Two Weeks Later

Somehow two weeks have managed to pass by. It seems strange that two weeks ago, Ellis was still growing in my womb. At the start of that Sunday, I thought he was still safe. I knew he wasn’t healthy, but for the time being, he was safe. This morning when I woke up, it felt so much like that Sunday, except that the absence of Ellis was piercing my heart. I know he’s in Heaven…it brings me joy when my heart is feeling especially heavy, but sometimes Heaven seems so very far away. I want to picture him there, but sometimes I can’t. I often pray that God will give me glimpses of Heaven and what Ellis’s life might be like there.  

I’m reading a book by Randy Alcorn titled Heaven. It’s putting details into what my imagination had already begun to envision, but I think God is helping me to see what that place is like. Reading about it and pondering it helps it to feel not so far away. Our little Ellis taught us so much these last few months. He helped to set my sight on eternity. Although I knew this was the ultimate as a child of God, I don’t know that I truly lived it until now. God created us for more than our years here on this Earth. He created us with eternity in mind. Our little boy, the one whose breaths only lasted a few minutes, is the one who taught us that lesson. It’s humbling. And thankfully, God is gracefully using it to bring me joy. There is joy in knowing that Ellis is already living out his eternal calling.

With love, Rebecca

Letter to Ellis

I wasn't sure what would become of this blog after Ellis was born. We started it with the intention of keeping people informed, allowing them to pray more specifically for us. Some have asked me if I will continue to write now that Ellis is gone. While pregnant I spent alot of time reading the written words, through books and blogs, of those who had experienced the loss of a typical pregnancy, a "typical" child, or the life of their child. Those words have been encouraging and educational to me as we've walked this unusual path. Now that we are on this side of things I continue to journal, just as I did before. Writing has been a healing process for me and I hope to continue. So, for now, House of Hope will be a place to continue telling Ellis's story and share our thoughts as we process this experience and heal. I hope my words can be an encouragement to others. Thanks for being with us throughout this journey. We have loved sharing Ellis with each of you.

Below you will find a letter that was a compilation of two different journal entries I wrote in the days after we met Ellis. My sister, Sarah, was kind enough to read this for me at the memorial service this past Friday.

My sweet Ellis,

      Monday was your Birth Day. On that day, you blessed us in a whole new way. You came to us. You took a few breaths and your heart beat to the sound of life. You came feet first –leaving your footprint on our world. Daddy and I were scared about you coming, because we knew you’d probably be gone so soon. But, you came and we loved every moment we had with you. We long to hear your beating heart again, like we did as we waited for you to come in that hospital room. We hated to say “Good-bye,” but are so glad we got to say “Hello.”  There is joy in knowing you are home with Jesus.

       I love to picture you running, jumping, and laughing in heaven. My heart is full knowing the joy and freedom you have there. You’re worshipping the Lord fully there, perfectly fulfilling your purpose as a sweet child of God. Daddy and I can’t wait to see you there someday. It gives us hope and helps us push through the days.

      Ellis, your Birth Day was so special and there aren’t words to adequately describe it. I held you in my arms on that day. I don’t ever want to forget how that felt. I want to remember the excitement of hearing Daddy say, “He made it! He’s alive!” I want to remember seeing your full, dark head of hair, feeling your soft skin, smelling your fresh baby scent, and noticing your chin looked like Daddy’s. I miss having you here. I think about how I carried you in my womb and in my arms. I miss your kicks and tumbles. I miss hearing your heartbeat. I miss your long fingers wrapped around mine and your soft, rosy cheeks.  Your earthly body is what I picture in my mind, but I’m sure your heavenly body won’t compare.

      It’s difficult for my mind to stop thinking “pregnant,” where my every thought was, “What does Ellis need right now?” I thought about you all the time. From the way I made sure to lie on my side as I slept, to choosing the right food, to praying over you when I would wake in the night. How could I not think of you in every action when you were my constant companion? You needed me. And now, you don’t. Although Jesus met your needs better than I could while you were here, He is certainly providing for you now. He’s healed your body completely. I can’t stop imagining what that must be like. You are perfectly healthy and whole in ways that you weren’t while you were here. Our big God is so good, but, of course, you already know that…much better than I do.

       My sweet baby, there are hard days ahead for your mommy and daddy, but we are at peace knowing you are in a much better place. I’m praying Jesus will share my written words with you. I can’t wait to be with you again. You will have to show me the best parts of Heaven. For now, I’ll worship our big, good God with you from this place. I love knowing that is something we can still do together.

                I love you, Baby Bear.

                                -Mama

Part 3: Going Home

Part 1 and Part 2 of the story.

Our hearts were full. He was here. And, he was alive! We saw him gasp for a few breaths and felt his body move in our hands. For us, those were sacred moments. Ones we will never forget. Although he only breathed for a matter of minutes, his heartbeat lingered for a while longer. During that time Grandma Linda, Grandpa John, Aunt Sarah, and Aunt Hannah got to meet and hold him.

The rest of the day was truly beautiful. We were able to hold our son, take pictures, and share him with family. Tim's parents and brother, Nate, all made it there that day as well. Uncle Matt, Aunt Molly, Aunt Heather, Uncle Scotty, Aunt Lydia, and Uncle Dave were all there via skype and phone calls throughout the day. We wish we would have had more time to spend with Ellis and to share him with our family and friends, but God gave us a great gift in what we had that day.

Another blessing was the incredible medical staff who took care of us during our stay at the hospital. Every nurse and doctor showed compassion and respect while dealing with such a difficult situation. We felt they truly cared for us and Ellis. It helped make the day more sweet.

At the end of the day, we had a time of prayer with our family. It was a time of thanksgiving for Ellis's life and to say good-bye to his earthly body. After our extended family left, we had time to say our final good-byes and spend a short time together as a family. We journaled with him in our laps, read him one more story, took a few more pictures, gave him one last kiss, and said good-bye. God covered us with grace and peace in that moment.

We miss our boy, but celebrate that he is healthy and whole in Heaven.



Part 2: Hello Ellis

Part 1 of the story can be found here.

As Sunday night progressed into the early morning hours of Monday, Rebecca was able to get some rest. With Ellis's heartbeat as the continuous soundtrack, Tim stayed awake and waited. Rebecca's family arrived around 2:30am. We were so grateful and relieved to see them. It was hard to believe only a few hours earlier they had been home in California. After hugs and hello's, they decided to wait "with" us in the hospital's waiting room instead of going to Rebecca's sister's house to sleep.

The contractions continued to grow in strength and frequency. With each contraction, Ellis's little heartbeat began to waver. Our growing fear was that we would not be able to meet him before he left us. The nurse and the doctor both came to see if we wanted to continue monitoring Ellis's heart. We wanted to hear his heart as long as it had life and so kept the monitors in place. The next hour and a half we had as a family, we will never forget. As the monitor would periodically lose Ellis's heartbeat, we pleaded with God for the chance to meet Ellis. Each time, his little heartbeat would resume. In between our prayers, we read books we'd read to Ellis throughout the pregnancy, as well as our favorite portions of Scripture. We are so glad we had that time as a family.

When we weren't sure how much more time we had with Ellis, we both heard a strange noise. Rebecca's water had broken. The doctor told us it was time. The next 15 to 20 minutes seem like a blur, but in that time we experienced the miracle of life. He surprised us all by coming feet first. The greater surprise was the doctor handing Ellis to Tim and Tim exclaiming, "Rebecca, he made it! He's alive!"

Part 1: It's Time

As promised, we wanted to share more about Ellis's life and the opportunity we had to meet him. We will share the story in parts.

Last Sunday began in a very typical fashion. We had no reason to suspect that anything was different and, in fact, we were quite at ease considering the journey we'd already been on for almost 12 weeks. Soon after waking Rebecca noticed something of concern and decided to call the doctor. He suggested coming in to see him at Labor and Delivery. So, we grabbed our hospital bag and went to the hospital, nervous, but not really thinking this would turn into anything. Rebecca remembers praying that God would prompt others to pray for us at that moment. The uncertainty of the last few months was only multiplied in our hearts as we drove to the hospital.

The doctor monitored Rebecca for a couple of hours, noticed she was having irregular contractions, but decided to send us home with directions to return if the contractions increased in pain and frequency. We left feeling relieved, but aware that something had changed. We had a sense that we'd be meeting Ellis soon, but thought we might still have a little bit more time to prepare. Hungry after a long morning at the hospital, we enjoyed brunch together and then spent the afternoon resting at home.

Rebecca felt contractions on and off throughout the afternoon, but nothing was consistent, although she could feel them with greater intensity. Around 4:40, a series of contractions began that were not only consistent, but continued to grow in strength. Before an hour had passed, Rebecca had 6 contractions and we called the doctor back. He asked us to come in so he could monitor further, but indicated we might be able to go back home either late that night or the next morning. We left for the hospital worried that this might be the real thing. With so many stable appointments in the past month, we had fully expected this moment to be coming in a number of weeks, not hours. It was daunting, but God gave us grace in those moments. This included the willingness of Rebecca's sister, Sarah, to come back to the hospital with us that night. We were so glad to not be going in alone.

After the first examination, the doctor decided to keep us overnight, but things still seemed a bit precautionary. We had contacted our families, letting them know we were going to the hospital, but still thought this could be a false alarm. Rebecca's parents and sister, Hannah, decided to do what they could to catch the last flight out of San Diego that night. It was a moment where they had to make a decision without much information to guide them, but they felt the nudge to go and so they did. They got the last 3 seats on the plane and began their flight to Chicago. We were relieved they were on their way, but didn't know if we would be welcoming them only to say, "Well, he's not coming yet."

By 9pm, the contractions had again grown in strength and regularity. The doctor's examination found that labor was progressing. We began to realize that Ellis was on his way and that by sometime the next day we would be meeting our son.

Baby Bump

There are some curious to see how big Ellis is getting. So, here we are: Henry Family Photo at 32 weeks!

Not much has changed...

Well, another week, another appointment, another "things are looking about the same." Fluid is still on the low end, but Ellis's little heart is beating strongly and that makes the doctors (and us!) happy. The doctor said he doesn't worry too much about fluid levels being low if the baby's heartbeat is strong and there isn't any cord compression. So, for now, we continue to wait, hope, and pray.

Conversations with the specialist and my regular OB brought up a few interesting things for us to consider this week:
1. My doctor recommended we begin looking for a pediatrician for Ellis. I was so surprised to hear him say this. It felt so good to hear him talking about the future with a positive outlook. This doctor has been wonderful and very kind, but he's been very careful to not paint any rosy pictures for the outcome of this pregnancy. I think he's pleasantly surprised by Ellis's strong heartbeat and continued growth at this point.

2. The specialist said that as we continue to keep an eye on things, he and my OB will be discussing the possibility of intervening early, if necessary. He isn't saying this is the direction we're headed, but that they're open to it if it provides a better outcome. There's a lot to consider with Ellis's development and his breech position in the womb. Either way, we're thankful for the good relationship our two doctors have and their desire to do the very best for us and Ellis.

Looking back over the last couple of months, it's hard to believe this is where we are. If you had told me at the beginning of May Ellis would still be here and that he'd still be happily growing inside of me, I would have cried tears of joy. At that point we thought it very likely that he wouldn't be here anymore. So, despite the continued waiting and longing, we are so thankful to be enjoying each new day with our little guy. Tim and I are striving to make the most of every day, recognizing that each is a gift. We find great joy in the little things, like his squirms and pokes, but also find that each new joy is followed quickly by sadness. Without knowing the outcome of this situation, we always wonder if this is the only time we'll have with him. Regardless, we're thankful for this time. And we're thankful for you. Your prayers, care, and concern continue to be a great blessing to us.

With love,
Tim and Rebecca