James' Story
It’s hard to believe that it’s been four years already. Four years since our world was shaken.
This past August marks four years since our little family welcomed a new addition- one we had eagerly awaited and prayed for, for so long. And instead of snuggling him in my bed, I was on my knees in the hospital bathroom, with my head to the cold floor, begging God to spare our son. It was not supposed to end this way. This was not what I had imagined six months before when I first saw those two pink lines.
In February 2015 we found out we were expecting our second child. Our two year old son would be getting a little brother that November. Early on in the pregnancy I went to the ER with heavy bleeding. I was sure I was having a miscarriage. But the baby was there with a strong heartbeat! They diagnosed me with a rather large subchorionic hematoma (or blood collection) between the sac and the uterine wall. It could cause complications they warned, but for now our son was healthy. Every few weeks I would find myself back in the ER with more bleeding, and each time the ultrasound would show our bouncing baby boy, seemingly undisturbed by the blood clot that surrounded his sac. We had so many people lifting my pregnancy up in prayers! I was confident we would deliver a healthy baby boy that November. But all those dreams were shaken when my water broke at only 23 weeks.
The growing clot had put too much pressure on the sac, causing it to rupture early. I would be kept on hospital bedrest until labor started, which we prayed would not be anytime soon. I had never been so thankful to see each sunset from my hospital bed. Each sunset marked another day that I was able to keep our son safe and growing. We named the baby James Tobias (Tobias means the “Goodness of Yahweh”). We chose this name early on so that no matter what happened in his life, we would be reminded of God’s goodness through it all.
Our belief in this goodness was tested on Friday, August 14 at 3:06 am when our son was born suddenly at only 24 weeks and 5 days. We held out hope for 16 hours as we watched him struggle in the NICU. Through this journey I was being forced to realize that God’s plan does not always match up with ours, no matter how wonderful our plan may seem. In my mind God would surely come through for us. Hundreds of people were praying. I had received the recommended steroid shots, he has technically past the point of viability, and he was our son. All very good reasons why God would spare him. But at 7:00 that evening, my husband and I found ourselves where we would have never imagined- sitting behind a room divider in the NICU, taking turns holding our tiny son, for his first and only day in our arms.
My worst fear had been realized. It’s a strange feeling, one I can’t really describe as we kissed him goodbye. A strange, peaceful sadness as we handed him into the arms of Jesus. It was over. Our long journey of fear, anxiety, and hope was over. We had reached the end. It wasn’t the ending I expected, but it was over. I had an eerie sense of relief that the struggle was finished, but it was replaced with a gaping hole of sadness and unanswered questions. A feeling of having been betrayed. God had betrayed us, it seemed. He had given us this gift to love and then snatched it away. I couldn’t sing worship songs without crying. He hadn’t been our “Healer” or “Deliverer”. I had asked Him to be, but we were met with silence.
During this time a dear friend admonished me to hold onto the goodness of God. It was hard but I began to look for ways that He was good in this story. He was good because He gave me 6 months to know and feel James in my womb. He was good for allowing me to see the love and kindness from so many friends and strangers alike. He was good to give us pain medicine so that my son could pass peacefully. He was good to give us 16 hours to love on him. He was good to give us the chance to have James grasp our fingers in his tiny hand and try to open his eyes at our voices. He was good to allow us to carry him to the arms of Jesus. He was good for sparing not His own Son, but giving Him up as a ransom for James. He was good for creating a way for all of our relatives and friends to hear the Gospel at his memorial service. He was good for making James so perfectly. He was only allotted 16 hours on this earth and yet he was made with as much care and artistry as someone who would live for 95 years. When I looked for it, I was blown away at all of His goodness.
Now it has been four years. I still look at the pictures of James and try to take my mind back to that day- his one day with us. And surprisingly, God has become our Healer. Yes, it was His will to take our son, but He did not leave us forgotten. He came to us. I don’t know when it was exactly, and I don’t know how, but He came. And he brought salve for our wounds. The wounds are still here, but He has been faithful to His word and has bound them up. This is not the end of our journey through grief, but I can now say, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.” (Job 13:15). As a child of God and someone who has lost her child, you will feel hurt and confused and betrayed and alone. There is no specific time for these feelings to pass. But don’t give up on your Father. We may not see the why, but with time, He will make sure we see His love again. And like myself, one day-even if it’s only in Heaven- you will be able to say, “It is well, it is well with my soul.”