The night before I had cried more than I ever thought possible. I passed out in the car on the way home from the hospital in Longmont, Colorado only a few minutes after I called my mom and dad at close to midnight to tell them that their first grandchild was no longer alive inside of me. Looking back I don’t know how I made it through that phone call, how I found the words to actually say out loud what had happened.
I remember crawling into bed that night. I felt dirty, broken, disgusting. Emotional pain the likes of which I had never experienced, where I felt nauseated and sick. I felt like a failure of the worst kind.
The next day, February 23, we drove to the hospital. It was sunny outside and we saw people driving in for work, but to me it felt like the end of the world. I didn’t understand how the sun could still shine when we were hurting so badly and our world was crashing down.
We talked to the doctor, and she confirmed it – our baby was no longer alive. There was no heartbeat. It had probably been that way for weeks, but they couldn’t be sure. She could do the surgery that day. Since it had been so long she recommended it.
And then our first baby was taken from my body. And I felt numb.
That night we had cheeseburgers as big as our heads, fries, milkshakes. We had two incredible friends over who watched When Harry Met Sally and The Hangover with us. We talked about everything except what had happened that day. As they left Stefanie handed me a note and a gift bag and said to read it whenever we wanted. I read that same note the other day and was overtaken by the kindness and the hope and the love in it.
I’ve never cried like that before. And I’ve never seen Nate cry like that before. We were so weak, so sad, searching for why all over the place.
I went in to work a few days later and my sweet friend Lindsay took one look and knew immediately. I’ll never forget the kindness I felt in just the simple look of sorrow she shared with me.
It’s been 3 years since we lost Story and the pain we felt that day is still just as stinging. We are so overwhelmingly and incredibly blessed because we are parents to the sweetest boy ever known, and the reality is that Wes wouldn’t be here if Story was. It’s hard to reconcile that sometimes, because we are so happy where life is right now. And we are so joyful in knowing where Story is. But it’s hard to look back at that day 3 years ago.
I said it in a radio interview recently, but one thing that makes me so happy is knowing that Story left an incredible legacy behind. I’m the mother that I am today, I appreciate our family the way I do, and God has comforted thousands of women, all because of a baby that needed to go home earlier than we wanted. And my prayer is that I leave that same legacy behind when I go.
Oh, Heather. I think about that all the time too…that Owen wouldn’t be here if our first lost baby was. Also, I’m so glad to hear that you did everything but think about losing Story the day you lost her. The day we found out we were going to lose our first baby, we had a 6-hour drive ahead of us. I bought myself a giant caffeinated drink and Bossypants by Tina Fey and laughed as we read it outloud. And then that night I cried so hard I threw up. I love you and your family – all of its members…and am so thankful for this little bit of vulnerability on the Interwebs.
Heather, what you said about “the reality is that Wes wouldn’t be here if Story was. It’s hard to reconcile that sometimes, because we are so happy where life is right now…” really resonated with me.
When you are content and joyful at where God has brought you…and yet you wouldn’t be in the place you are (or be who you are) if you hadn’t experience such sorrow and loss…it creates a strange tension to live in. While my story is different than yours, sorrow and suffering of any kind is so relatable once you have experienced it yourself. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I find myself wishing that I could have had the heart change apart from the sorrow–but that is not how it works.
It can be so difficult to accept that a time of pain and loss led directly into the following season of restoration. And while the joy of what has been given, restored, and built is something priceless…it is the very pain and sorrow of the past that is infusing the present with its depth of meaning and joy. Like I said, it is a strange tension to live in. “…Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.” (2 Cor 6:10)
Oh, friend. 🙁 I’ve walked this very journey and want to say you’re in my prayers, especially on this day each year.
xo
Thinking of you today and keeping you in my prayers. I cannot imagine that pain and sorrow you both felt and are still feeling with you think of your precious baby.
I wish so much I could have been there to hold you. You have such a wonderful husband who could comfort you and you him and blessed with such good friends. Mom
I’ll never forget that horrible gut-wrenching feeling of being told my first baby did not have a heartbeat. So many tears. So many dreams crushed. It was almost 18 years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. Love to you this day friend.