Pre-op blood work came back positive for pregnancy! Wow! Cancel surgery
and anticipate a Christmas baby! The specialist was honest about
the risks.
Increase chance of miscarriage, of pre-term labor, of complications during
delivery....We could only grin. "But then there is God!" We
would wake up
at night and laugh for the joy of it. Another child! Hallelujah!
The pregnancy was normal: lots of morning sickness, a bladder infection,
heartburn, and tiring very easily. While I tired easily, our baby
did not.
Ultra sound showed us a perfect, active little boy. I would sit in
my
rocking chair looking out at the bay and mountains, feeling him wriggle
and
play within me. I could catch his little foot, tickle. When
his big
brothers poked at him he poked back. At church he would bop to the
praise
choruses. I would feel his hands flutter when he looked for his thumb.
Then I would feel stillness followed by hiccups. We agonized over
a
name....when I went into labor we still had not decided......
Christmas eve morning my water broke. The ultrasound the day before
showed
he was high, but when they checked me at the hospital his head was engaged.
Labor did not start on its own, so they started induction. The contractions
started and the monitors showed everything fine. Until 2:44 pm.
Our son's
heartrate decelerated and didn't come back up. Lifting my gown the
nurse
could see the cord, and called for OR. Within minutes the room was
flooded
with midwife, doula, nurses and doctors. The baby was pushed back
in off
the cord, I was given oxygen, prepped for surgery.....I remember
the pain,
trying to relax and breathe. When the baby was pushed back there
was a gush
of blood. My husband thought he was watching us both die.
Anders was delivered at 3:17 with a slow heartrate. The team worked
to
resuscitate him for two hours. Thirty minutes into the resuscitation
his
heart beat irratically for 10 -15 minutes. He never breathed on his
own.
I woke up vomiting, and turned to my husband, "Our baby?" He explained
that
they were doing all they could to save him, that they had called the air
ambulance to take him to Anchorage, and he would have to leave me and go
with our son......
"Anders. His name is Anders Theodore Izaak." I didn't
want my baby to die without his name. My heart broke. I was
afraid my son
would go to Anchorage and die and I would never even get to see him.
But he
had to go if there was hope to save his life....
Then the doctor came in and told us it was no use, his spirit was gone.....
Our midwife and nurse bathed him and brought him to us. The big brothers
came in crying. This is not how I had envisioned introducung them
to each
other. We took turns holding him. He was so beautiful, so peaceful.
I
just wanted him to wake up.
Friends came quickly to our side, to cry and pray for us. They cried
while
I could not. How can this be true? He was so alive not long
ago. How
could life be snuffed out so quickly?
Tears did not come until after I was home. My husband and I went
to find a
container for his ashes. We live in Homer, Alaska. There are
many art
galleries here. At one we found a beautiful wooden box, hand crafted
by a
local artist. Then the tears began to flow. The lady
at the counter
patted my hand, and I stammered "It's for the ashes of my son."
The day after buying the box, we went to the hospital to say our last good
byes. Our living sons touched, held, kissed Anders. My parents,
who had
flown in, saw and held him for the first and last time. When
alone, my
husband and I changed him into the little outfit we had purchased to bring
him home from the hospital. We rocked him, sang him lullabies, read
to him
"I Love You As Much..." read him the Bible passages which comfort
our
hearts.....
Then it was time to let him go. I would have let him go to Anchorage
to
save his life, now it was time to let him go to God.
At his memorial service we shared our hope. Anders is alive, he is
home.
He cannot return to us, but we will go to him. Each day brings us
closer to
being reunited with our son.
I don't understand why God allowed my son to die. We love him so
much! We
wanted him so much! No reason would be good enough. I come
to a crisis of
faith. There is no answer to my why question. In the absense
of answers, I
must choose if I will continue to trust. Will I curse God for not
giving me
a miracle and by doing so whither and die inside? Or will I choose
to
trust, blind faith, and have hope? I choose trust, even while my
heart is
breaking.
I choose hope because I know that my Redeemer lives. I know my son
is alive
in heaven. While still in the hospital I dreamed I saw Anders in the arms
of
God. The words of Zephaniah 3:17 soothed me: "The Lord your
God is with
you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he
will quiet
you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." Then God
chuckled and said " I can do even better than this..." I saw my husband's
father, Grandpa Olson, shining in a white cowboy hat, the biggest grin
on
his face. He was holding Anders high in his big, strong hands, proud
as
punch of his little grandson. "We're going to see the ponies!" Dad
said as
they walked away, joy in every step.
It comforts me to know Anders' first sight when he opened his eyes
was of
his Savior's face in glory. Which is why, through the tears, I can
say,
"See you in heaven, beloved son"