Still Birth- From Empty Arms to Hope and Healing

Today we launch our newest resource on Stillbirth. We're praying for those who will hear these moving stories of two families who experienced that unthinkable loss of their babies - still born - but still born.  In this blog post, Carrie D'Antuono, one of the mothers we interviewed, shares some of her struggles with the question "why?"  On Thursday, I'll post a story  that we included in our book, Treasures of Faith, Living Boldly in View of God's Promises, about Michelle McConomy, the other mother we interviewed. Please pass on these blogs with the link to this resource to friends and family who have experienced the still birth of a child.  It's our prayer that these stories will help turn their hearts toward our God.

Tiny Footprints on a Momma’s Heart

Guest Writer, Carrie D'Antuono

My Journey through Loss, Grief, Hope and Healing

I am broken…

…but I am healing.

I am grieving…

…but not without hope.

I am learning…

…to find my new normal.

Isabella's Footprints

Bella and Immanuel's Garden

As I write today, I am sitting on a garden bench surrounded by beautiful flowers. The wind is rustling softly through the trees. This is my haven, my place of peace. Here, in this very spot, many tears have been shed. It is where I go to remember. It is our memorial garden, lovingly designed by my mother in memory of our daughter Isabella, who was born still on June 13, 2012.

We named it “Bella’s Garden.” A month after the garden was planted, we lost our son, Immanuel, on November 19, 2012, due to miscarriage. The garden is now in memory of our two precious babies who were born into heaven.

Into the Pain

June 12, 2012

8:00pm. My husband, Justin, and I had entered maternity triage an hour and a half earlier. I was 25 ½ weeks pregnant with our second child. I had no idea that in the next few moments I would take my first steps into the most painful events of my life-that my heart would be ripped to pieces.

 We’re so sorry, we cannot find a heartbeat.

The walls crashed in around me. I heard myself wailing “NO! NO! NO!” I flung myself into Justin’s arms and buried my face there. Time stood still. I felt like I was outside of my body, watching as we sat there and cried, sobbed, and hugged each other tighter than we ever had before. I kept saying ,“It’s not true, it’s just a bad dream! I just want to wake up!”

Hollow, empty, hopeless.

This is not fair, it’s just not right. We were supposed to come to the hospital, find out the baby was okay, and go home. This is not what was supposed to happen. After the first few minutes of agony, shock, and disbelief, the doctor began to talk about what would happen next. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing- that within hours I would have to come face to face with the most difficult events I could imagine. I would have to deliver the baby. I asked about C-section, wanting to avoid the emotional trauma of labor and delivery. She stated that it would be too much of a risk for me to undergo surgery. This was incredibly hard to wrap my mind around. I would have to deliver our baby, knowing full well that I would not hear him or her cry as they were born.

Bella's Stepping Stone in our Garden

Bella's Stepping Stone in our Garden

That we would not take our baby home. The doctor also began to tell me about other decisions we would have to make following delivery of our baby- autopsy, genetic testing, funeral homes, planning a funeral service. Within a few hours we had been given devastating news, and had been confronted with decisions that we never thought we’d have to make.

June 13, 2012

. Last night was excruciating. Denial and reality were constantly warring within me. Sometimes reality would hit me like a ton of bricks and I would cry and groan, my body trembling out of fear, tremendous sadness, and emptiness. Sometimes I felt numb. And other times, I just knew I was going to have a normal, healthy baby- that the doctor in triage missed something and my baby was going to be fine.

I was so scared. It was so hard to wait, but at the same time, I didn’t want to rush what was inevitable. By mid-morning I started to feel contractions, and by late afternoon my contractions were 2 minutes apart. Around 4:30pm, it was time. Contrary to what I had expected, the whole delivery process was so quiet and so peaceful. Within a half an hour, it was time to push.

Tears streaming down my face, 

I cannot believe I will not hear my baby's cry. My baby is not going to cry.

Carrie and Isabella - Photo by Barb Kelly Our girl. Isabella Josephine. Our sweet, precious daughter.

I could not believe we had to go through this. I wanted to meet the baby, but I didn’t want to have to do it this way. I longed so badly for things to be okay. By 4:56pm, I was cradling our baby in my arms.

She was perfect. At 1 pound and 6 ounces, she fit perfectly in my hands. I brushed my finger against her soft skin and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Bella. Mommy is so sorry.” I spent the next hours trying my hardest to memorize her every little feature- her tiny hands that I could wrap around my finger, her rosy lips, her precious little feet. I just couldn’t believe this was happening- that I wouldn’t get to know her, to see her smile, to hear her soft baby sounds, to watch her grow up. My heart was broken, shattered. Why?    

Immanuel's Stepping Stone in our Garden

In the hours, days, weeks, and months after losing Bella, one of the most difficult questions that I have struggled with is “why?” Then, 5 months after we lost her, we lost our son, Immanuel.

Why did this happen, and why me?

From my perspective, it did not make any sense. I am healthy. I was considered “low risk” during my pregnancies. I had nothing to be fearful of, nothing to cause worry, nothing to make me question whether or not my babies were going to be born lively and healthy.

…Until the day Bella stopped moving.

                        …Until the day I began to bleed when I was carrying Immanuel.

And now two of my sweet babies are gone. Why? I have no answer for this. The medical community hasn’t been able to shed too much light on this question either. We had extensive testing done after Bella died- autopsy, genetic testing, rounds of labwork. No answers. Only with Immanuel did we find out why he hadn’t made it through the 1st trimester- Trisomy 9. Even having a cause for his death did not relieve me from this question. It’s still hard.

I struggle seeing parents with multiple children. I ask myself, “why do they get to have all of their children here and I don’t?” I wrestle with my jealous heart. It is difficult for me to be around babies the same ages Bella and Immanuel would have been- to watch them grow, and to see them experience the love of their families. My heart breaks over and over again. I miss my babies incredibly. Many times I have to pray a moment-by-moment prayer for God to replace my envy, jealousy and bitterness with His grace. It is a daily process that I know I must go through, and that I need God’s strength for. God has given me His grace and strength as a result of my prayers- even if just for that moment. This is what He requires of me- constant reliance on Him through the grief and pain.

Why Me?

       Why did God allow this to happen to me?

                                    God knows I would pour so much love into these children!

            I deserve to have these children, don’t I?

                                                            I thought you loved me, God?!       

                                    Where are you in all of this?

I have poured out my heart many times to the Lord, through journaling, praying out loud on my knees, praying silently through tears. These are hard questions. My cries to God lead me to the Scriptures.

My questions push me to re-explore what God says about who He is, and what He has promised to those who love Him. God has directed me to look into His words- His promises- not for the answers for everything, but to help me understand more about Him. In asking the question “why me,” God turns my face to Him. Instead of giving me all the answers to my earthly pain and suffering, He focuses my attention heavenward. He reminds and teaches me about who He is. (See below for many of the promises God gave me that were like medicine for my broken heart.)  My conclusion to the question "Why?"

His ways are not my ways, and His thoughts are not my thoughts.  There is just no way for me to understand all that He does, but He asks me to trust Him and who He is.  The words to the song Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus have become near and dear to me in the past months. The words resonate in my heart and confirm the truths that God has been teaching me:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus, Look full in His wonderful face.

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

 In the light of His glory and grace. 

Many times when I ask the question “why me?” he turns my eyes to Him. And in these moments, my questions seem to fall away. I must trust Him even when I don’t understand Him. This is the essence of faith. Trusting that what He promises in Scripture is absolutely true, and leaning on these promises. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. And…my life is not my own. It’s all about Him.

Carrie and Justin and Bella's Hands - Photo by Barb Kelly

Trusting that no matter what He brings into my life, that there is a reason, a purpose. He is in control always, and He will lead me through. He is sovereign over all things.

This is hard.  Grief is a process, and God has to turn my face toward him again and again, because I have a tendency to look away and try to figure everything out on my own so many times.  I still hurt, I still cry, I still long for my children. But I am trying to rest in His purposes, and the truth that He does

have the best and most perfect plan, even though I don’t understand many times. I know that He loves me, He loves my family, and He loves every single one of my children.

I am still on the journey of healing, and my prayer is that you are able to see my Hope shine through my pain.

In His grace - Carrie D'Antuono

Comfort from Scripture

He is my Creator. 

He has known me intimately before I was even born.

He loves me so much that He gave His most precious Son for me, so that I am freed from eternal death, and instead will live eternally with Him.

Nothing can separate me from the love of Christ.

He has promised never to leave or forsake me.

He has promised that he will be with me through every kind of trial.

He does not promise a pain-free life, but states that we will

have trouble and hardship but to FEAR NOT, for he has overcome this broken world.

He has every intention to work out all the details of life for the good of those who love Him and for His glory. 

He has good and perfect plans for me.

He is bigger and more powerful than I could ever comprehend, and yet He is tender, compassionate, intimate and loving.

He cares deeply about every single detail of my life- even the number of hairs on my head are counted.