Fading

She is fading from me. I think this is normal and healthy, though I don’t want it to happen. The truth is I don’t feel like a mom. I know that I am one, but I feel less and less like a mother every day. I have difficulty remembering her. I am only able to do so when I read the words I carefully recorded here and in my journal. Only then am I overwhelmed by the powerful emotions that remind me of my brief and tragic experience with motherhood.

We are looking for a new house. This one is haunted. It is haunted with nightmares, fear, devastating disappointment. These walls are silent witnesses to our sorrow, our desperate, ineffective prayers. They have absorbed each sob wretched from our souls. If I am quiet enough with my memories, I hear the sound of our weeping echoing through the rooms. I’m not quite sure what to do with her room, with her things. I’ve just left everything the way it was.

We had our first visit to the psychologist last week. It was good. Nothing earth-shattering, but I didn’t expect earth-shattering. It’s a place to start. We talked a little of making peace with what has happened so we can move forward. I think I’ve made my peace. I am living with it. Mike is having trouble with the “living with it” part. When I talk with him and ride the merry-go-round-and-round-and-round of questions, I realize just what we have lost inside of ourselves through this: faith, trust, hope, security. I worry that Mike will never come back. He borders on agnostic and I understand. I have the same thoughts; I’ve just come to a different conclusion.

When I look back, I feel foolish. I feel foolish for hoping, for “acting in faith”. I should have just accepted it like everyone else who’s had to walk this wretched mile. My heart is sick. A friend told me something she heard about parenthood: “To have a child is to have your heart walking around outside your body.” In my case to have a child is to have my heart buried six feet under the ground. Sometimes I wish I really was dead. Sometimes I imagine being in a terrible accident and dying. I think of how wonderful that would be, except Mike and I would have to be together. I can’t leave him because I’m the only good thing he has that is keeping him going. I know this because he told me. We will be flying together on a trip in September. I am secretly hoping we will be in a plane crash and not survive. I understand this is morbid. I’m not suicidal. I imagine anyone who has held death in their arms has thoughts like this.  I also understand why people go insane. Not mental illness, but slipping through the elusive window of insanity. Ah, how sweet that would be. The simplicity and freedom would be such a relief.

I’ve made my peace, though, and I am happy simply functioning in my little corner. I thrive on the average mundane, the busyness of my work that takes me away each day. I spend my days in a room full of nine bright little minds that can’t get enough of learning about the world around them. It is my connection to reality. Thanks to these little ones, I won’t be finding that window anytime soon.

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Quiet

For the last two or three weeks, things seemed to be going really well. I was surprised, but pleased.  I wondered though if the pain and sadness were simply lying quiet underneath the surface. This week showed me that it is indeed still there; a poison slowly killing the soul.  The search continues for a grief counselor; someone to help us navigate the dark, uncharted waters of loss. It is difficult to find someone from a list of names in a preferred provider directory. I don’t know if they are any good, or if they specialize in grief or loss. I googled the names of doctors. I googled “grief and loss counselors”.  I eventually came up with a name that was on our list and also a search result for “grief and loss”.

Mike checked at work for coverage information and found out our insurance will pay $50 of the amount remaining after we pay the copay. Do they not realize that the average cost of a session is between $130 and $200? They probably do and that is why they limit it to $50. Also, Mike can never need the assistance of a professional again because the plan stipulates he can use it once in a lifetime. It will be worth it because it is important to the wellbeing of our lives and future, but we are already financially set back following birth and funeral costs. In a discussion this morning Mike made the statement that one person is not going to help him get through this. I agree. It is a little bit here and a little bit there. It is a process, a journey. I gain a little bit with each person I talk to. I pick up little pieces of healing and peace as I go along. I know that a grief counselor will probably not help much with the spiritual devastation. We have a couple resources of pastors who are certified counselors that may be able to help. I was reminded today that this will never really go away. Our lives are irrevocably changed.

I found an article on grief I found somewhat helpful.

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Progressing

I’m not in the same place as I was 71 days ago. I’m not sure how I got here, but I am different. I still cry for my missing daughter, usually unexpectedly, without my permission, and at odd times; like at a professional development workshop. Some days go by without my crying at all. Some days I am derailed by a thought or an event, and I spend hours in unchecked mourning. I no longer live in a daze anesthetizing me from overwhelming grief. Still, just this morning I felt that this possibly could not have actually happened to me: My brain’s way of protecting me from the horror. I’ve been able to find ways to express my grief. I write, I’ve created a memorial space for her, I talk about her when I can, I read other’s stories; their experiences and how they’re moving forward, I meet with friends, I look at her pictures, I listen to songs, and watch videos. Logically, it seems these things would be too painful, that the pain would destroy me. But I embrace the pain and the grief and, instead of being destroyed by it, I find I move past it and even feel healing. It is difficult to describe and I don’t really understand it. I am progressing.

I seem to be progressing more quickly than my husband.

He is unsure of how to move forward. He is nearly paralyzed by anger and betrayal. My heart aches to help him, but we grieve differently. Nothing I say helps. All I can do is listen to him. I feel so helpless. I grieve for him. I grieve for the husband I lost on the day Victoria slipped away. He is a different man, as I know I am different.  He carries sadness in his soul. I see it in his eyes and in the way he walks. It is a reflection of the sadness in my own soul. Sadness has become the air we breathe; a familiar, cloying presence. We are weary with sadness. It has become part of who we are. He has good days, as do I, but is struggling more than me. He knows I am slowly moving forward and he is afraid to be left behind. He has to go to work all day, while I get to stay home and process through my grief. Weekends are the most difficult for him and therefore, for me. After being distracted and preoccupied with other things throughout the week, he has time to think on the weekend and is confronted by questions, anger, and feelings of betrayal. Like a snapping rubber band the week stretches by without much emotion only to catch up on the weekend.

He has been unable to receive comfort from God though he has cried out to him. The test of faith continues? Going to church is an excruciating experience for him. Every song is about promises we never received. Every message is about faith where we have dismally failed. It is difficult for me too, but not to the same degree. I tell him everything will be ok, he will be ok. This will take time. I remind him that we will have good days and bad days. I mourn with him on the bad days and rejoice with him on the good days.

Somehow we will make it. We have to make it.

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Grief through Art

My summer is chock full of workshops to get me professional development hours so I can renew my teaching license next summer. Today was “Teaching Math through Art”. One of the projects the instructor had us do was to create a self-portrait using construction paper, scissors, glue, tissue paper, etc. The only catch was we had to use at least six polygons in the piece. This piece was based on Pablo Picasso’s abstract style. She gave us the freedom to do someone else if we wanted to, although I had already decided I would depict Victoria in the portrait.

My mind was on her and my sadness stirred because the instructor had been talking about and showing some art she did with her children at home. I imagined myself at home doing such a fun thing as that with my little one, only to be slapped in the face by the thought that I already had her and she’s gone!

I’m not very good at art, but I expressed my grief (and some math!) through my artistic creation.

 

Victoria was 15 in. long, so I measured a piece of paper for her length in my favorite color, purple, which was also the color of my dress at her funeral and of the Mother’s Day flowers we bought for me.

Victoria never opened her eyes, so one of the eyes on her face is closed. The eye that is looking directly at me has a star in the center because one of the things I will miss the most is seeing the sparkle in her eyes, the windows to her soul and sweet personality. Her lips stood out to me the most when I met her, so I made them a bright pink. Her hair was brown and she had a pretty good amount of it! I remember her arms and hands were faintly blue because her heart was so tired, pumping slowly.

The three polygons in the left corner represent the sun. Morning, noon, and night, she is always gone from me. The purple balloon represents the one I just released when I went to see her place. The rectangle represents her marker and the heart, our love for her. As I looked at it later though, I thought it looked like an envelope and reminded me of the letters Mike and I wrote to her just a few days after her birth and death that we read at her funeral, and tucked into her casket.

The circle at the top is a clock and the triangle is marking her time on this earth: 10 minutes. There is a bottle holding my tears. There are two tears to represent the two months that I have been weeping for her. The last object is a butterfly. The left wing is not fully developed. Sometime in March one of my students brought in a group of butterflies for our class to release. All of them flew away except one. One of the butterflies had an underdeveloped wing. My heart broke as I watched it struggle. I knew that it would not survive. For some reason that butterfly had not developed correctly. My heart broke because I knew the same thing was happening to the precious baby growing inside of me. I didn’t know what to say to my students, but I wanted to protect them from being upset, so I just told them, “Sometimes these things happen.”  Only one student stayed behind desperately trying to help the butterfly take flight.

I think the butterfly also represents her spirit, so delicate, fragile, and beautiful fluttering away to heaven.

I couldn’t keep her.

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Victoria's Place

This weekend we visited Victoria’s place for the first time since the funeral.  We got an email from the funeral home just before the weekend telling us that Victoria’s marker was finished and in place. We picked out some colorful flowers with a little ladybug in the bouquet that we thought she would have loved. We each got a balloon and wrote a message to her. As we released the balloons and watched them rise, I was struck with the thought of how far away she really is.

 

As difficult as it was to visit our daughter’s grave, it was good for us to grieve together again.

Life has moved on around us and we struggle to move too. How do you move forward when you have lost something so precious that it can never be replaced? I feel that I exist and that is all. It must be enough for now to simply exist. While I think I have come to some semblance of peace and acceptance, the foundation of my life is cracked. All I can do is patch it.

 Think of an earthquake. Before “the event” you live in peace and security. Then, without warning, your entire world is in upheaval. Somehow you survive, but everything you care about, everything beautiful, is gone.  

All you have now is the knowledge you live on a fault line. Nothing will ever be the same.  

Just as you can’t just pick up the pieces of your life after a damaging earthquake, you can’t just pick up the pieces of an internal earthquake. The core of our lives has been altered. Will beauty ever be found again? Sure. Life will grow in the cracks.

But the cracks will always be there. I guess that is life. I don’t like my new life. I want to escape it somehow. I want my old life back. I want my husband back. I want my joy back. I want to look forward to things again.  

I’m so tired.

I’m so afraid.

What is stopping tragedy from destroying me?

How is it that more terrible things don’t happen?

How is it that anything good ever happens?

My confidence that I am protected by God has been severely shaken.

My hope that I can receive a miracle when bad things happen is shattered.

My faith is crushed.

I’m so afraid.

I’m afraid to be pregnant again. This pregnancy was a disaster, the worst experience of my life. It’s hard to imagine anything going right after this. Logically I know this will not happen again, but experientially, emotionally, psychologically, I worry. I don’t even know if I have the strength, the heart, to go through it again: To carry a child, to get attached, knowing it’s not Victoria even though she’s the one I really want. Do I even want another baby in Victoria’s room that was specifically decorated for her, or wear her clothes, or play with her things? What if I have a boy and I’m disappointed because he isn’t the hoped for girl everyone wanted. What if it’s a girl and I don’t even want to name her because I gave my favorite name to Victoria? Mike is afraid he will compare our future children to Victoria, our perfect daughter.  How do we move forward, look forward?

Jesus said in John 16:33, “I have told you these things, so you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

And in John 14:26, “But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let you hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

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I Was Having a Good Day

…and then I got the forward from the funeral home. Victoria’s grave marker is finished.

This was my worst fear: That I would see her name on a gravestone instead of her school papers. Buried under that marker with my daughter are my hopes and dreams:

A firstborn daughter

Her beautiful name

Ballet lessons

Teaching her to read

Singing “Happy Birthday” to her

Proudly watching her in holiday programs

The sparkle in her eyes

Her personality

Family outings with her

Watching her grow up

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that everyone else gets to have their babies, but me. It’s not fair that I was robbed of a joyful pregnancy (even when I do get pregnant again will it be joyful? I will be full of anxiety and worry after this experience). It’s not fair that Victoria didn’t get to really live.

There is nothing I can do. Nothing will make this horrible experience go away. I’ve never felt so helpless in all my life as I have through this experience. Everything bad that has ever happened to me has always had an end. Not this. This will never end. Sure the pain will be less intense years from now, but it will never go away. I am marked by this as surely as Victoria’s beautiful name marks that gravestone. It is chiseled into me.

This was the last thing we were waiting for. Finally, after two months, the legalities are wrapped up. Last month we received her birth certificate (which had DECEASED written in bold letters across it) and death certificate in the same week.

Tomorrow we will visit her place.

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Videos

I would like to share some videos that I found, or were suggested to me. They have helped me to grieve and find some healing.









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A Purpose

            I just can’t believe that it was God’s will for Victoria to be sick and die. Even the idea that he allowed it is difficult for me to accept. To allow something is to agree to it and align your will with it. I believe that when Jesus died on the cross, he did so to restore to us all that had been lost in the fall of man. In the scriptures (Isaiah 53:5 and 1 Peter 2:24b) salvation and healing are specifically stated as results of what Jesus did for us. It was done by God’s grace to be received by us through faith (Ephesians 2:8). I know many people will probably not agree with me, but during the 5 months Mike and I fought for Victoria’s life this is the direction and understanding I felt God was leading me in.  I don’t understand it all. That fact is obvious in that I am bereft of my daughter as I write this. It is also the reason I cannot be angry at God. To blame him for Victoria’s death, or for not preventing it, is to arrogantly assume I know everything about God’s ways and his laws. I do not. And yet, there is a terrible discrepancy between what I know, or think I know, and what I have experienced. To be completely honest I think that I was so overwhelmed by natural fear and unbelief that I was unable to access the provided promise. I am left with more questions than answers.

            I think that God knew that all would happen as it did. He was not surprised. I can accept that there is purpose in all that happened, in Victoria’s short life, in the aftermath I find myself in. Mike and I drew closer together and closer to God because of her life. I became a mommy because of Victoria. I don’t think I will ever look at children the same way again. Each one is so precious. I will be a better teacher, and mommy to her brothers and sisters because of her. Victoria’s short life had a purpose and she fulfilled it. I wanted her to live and she did, although it was short. I gave her life. I am proud of that.

            I want to share something my Aunt Trudi wrote for me shortly after Victoria’s death. I was comforted by her inspired words and it lifted my eyes from my all-consuming grief.

My Purpose Fulfilled

By Trudi Batt

            There was a whirlwind of excitement in the air. Jesus was looking for just the right one for His Purpose intended. I urged Him to choose me. I sang and danced about, making silly faces, rolling and tumbling in the grass, trying to sway His vote. His attention was turned to me, with warm, penetrating, joyous eyes; a smile drew across His tireless, glowing face. He threw His head back and laughed. I knew He had chosen me. He held me close, and we talked about the secrets of His universe and how I would work into the plans perfectly. He held my face in his hands and spoke lovingly to me. I touched his face and nuzzled into His chest. As He told me about my mama and daddy I shivered with excitement. He loved them so much. He talked about how He had put them together, and what wonderful plans He had for their future. That I was in their future, ever how brief and fleeting they would think it was. I was going to be part of a purpose fulfilled for all involved.

            The well- wishers were many, excited about my trip to earth. Singing and laughing ensued as I embarked.

            My story began with love between my mommy and daddy. They dreamed and laughed, planned and worked toward my arrival. Mama rubbed her belly and sang to me and over me, oh I loved that! Daddy told me how much he loved me as he snuggled up to me, like Jesus has always done. Giving me kisses that I just knew, were mine alone. Daddy, you loving my mama and the kindness you show her makes me burst with joy. I feel her happiness because of it, and warmth you bring to us both.

            Parties were given to celebrate my pending arrival. Soon I was delivered into my parents loving arms. Oh how they loved me, cherishing every moment together, kissing my tiny face, holding me ever so gently, remarking on my exquisitely formed lips and the perfection of my flawless features. I loved every minute of it, the cooing and caressing, all of it. We created so many memories in that brief period of time.

            I fulfilled the purpose I was created for. Jesus you were right, they were everything you said they would be. They never raised a hand to hurt me, only to cherish and celebrate my life. I was supposed to stay just long enough to meet them, to share just a bit of heaven with each other.

            Thank you for being everything Jesus said you would be. What a wonderful journey, I can’t wait to tell the others who are waiting for their chance to fulfill their purpose in God’s secrets of His Universe.

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Father's Day

Yesterday was our first Father’s Day since the birth and death of Victoria six weeks ago. Mike’s first Father’s day as a daddy.  I asked him a couple weeks ago what he wanted for Father’s Day and he said, “Nothing”.  The only way I got through Mother’s Day, which was three days after her birth and death, and the day before her funeral, was because I had a plan. At first I didn’t want anything, but after thinking about it I decided I wanted a purple carnation flower in a vase as a remembrance of Victoria. It is something I can do every mother’s day to remind myself that I am Victoria’s mommy and she was such a precious little girl. I wanted to celebrate Mike as a daddy on this day because he is a proud daddy. He was so proud of how hard she fought for life. He loved her and fought for her when other dad’s might have terminated her life. He is a good daddy! I wanted to get him something meaningful that he could keep with him as a reminder of his little girl. I decided on a key chain engraved with her name.

On Father’s day we remembered Victoria Ann.

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Our Story

Growing our family

Mike and I met and married near the end of our 20’s in October 2008. We had both waited and prayed for so long for the love of a lifetime. We finally found each other and were blissfully happy. We both wanted children, but we also wanted to enjoy life together first, especially since we’d had such a short courtship. We’d also had a very short honeymoon; one night in a wistful inn up north and then a long 1,000 mi. drive down south pulling a uhaul with all the rest of my worldly goods to our home.  I love to travel, and Mike really wanted to see Greece since he has ancestry there.  International tickets were extremely expensive, so we thought, “Why not get our money’s worth and see everything we want to?!”  Thus ensued an elaborate plan to sprint through Europe in 3 ½ weeks starting in Scotland and working our way through London, Paris, Pisa, Rome, and finally Greece.  We saved and planned for 7 months before embarking on the adventure of a lifetime in the summer of 2010. One last fling before we started our family.

I had the perfect plan.  I wanted to get pregnant in August or September so I could finish teaching through the school year and then have the whole summer with my new baby. Mike and I began to pray very specifically every day for a baby with no defects, deformities, or abnormalities. Seriously, those were Mike’s exact words as he prayed each morning before we left for work. We prayed all the good things over our hoped for baby that I’m sure every parent does: health, beauty, intelligence.  We also prayed for a girl. I had always wanted a firstborn girl and had her name picked out since high school! Mike is from a family of all boys, so a girl would be much welcomed!  My plan worked perfectly! Within two months of trying I was pregnant.

We were both very excited, but wanted to wait until we had a doctor’s confirmation before we told anyone. I’ll never forget the amazement of seeing the strobe flash heartbeat of the little life inside me.  I was 6 weeks pregnant.  I remember feeling hesitant to tell anyone outside the parents. I worried that something might happen to the baby and then, what would I tell people? I worried about telling my students because if the baby died, they wouldn’t understand. I figured that it was probably just a normal fear that every mom-to-be feels, or natural apprehension because I have a couple friends who have miscarried their babies.  I shook it off and announced the good news by emailing a scan of our 6 week ultrasound to the parents, told my friends at work, and told my students the good news on sharing day. I couldn’t bring myself to announce it to “the whole world” on facebook, just in case. I wanted to wait awhile until I felt sure that everything was going smoothly.  I never made that announcement on facebook. 

The Phone Call

Mike and I went in for our second ultrasound on January 13^th 2011 at 18 weeks very excited to find out if it was a girl or boy.  Our technician told us the baby was sitting up with its legs crossed, but she was 95% sure our baby was a girl. We listened to her strong heartbeat and my eyes filled with tears of joyful amazement. I was absolutely floored when I saw her kick her legs and feet. Time stopped for that moment and in that moment I was changed. I was a mommy. For real. At this point I started to get really excited! This was my dream and it was really going to happen.  We made the phone calls to parents with the news that baby was a girl. My mom would have another “little woman” in the family.

I took the newest ultrasound in to show my students telling them that Victoria (we began calling her by name now that we knew she was a girl) was listening when I told them to sit up and cross their legs for circle time!

On January 17^th I got a call from my ob-gyn to tell me that my amniotic fluid looked a little low. They wanted to schedule an appointment with a perintologist just to make sure everything was ok. Meanwhile I should make sure to drink lots of water because it could be that I was just dehydrated. After I hung up the phone I felt a bit shaky and nervous. It’s never good when your doctor calls you, right? Was this the phone call? Would my worst fears come true? I called Mike right away at work. I also called my parents and reached my dad. He prayed with me on the phone, which I was so grateful for. I began drinking water like a crazy person. I even enlisted the help of my students so I would remember to drink throughout the day.

The Nightmare

  On January 24^th Mike and I went to our scheduled appointment with the perintologist feeling excited to see our baby on the ultrasound again. I had been drinking tons of water so I was confident we would get good news.  I actually remember feeling sorry for another couple there because they were having problems with their pregnancy. We got the worst possible news. The doctor told us there was almost no amniotic fluid. There were cystic masses in her abdomen, there was extra fluid around her heart and one of the ventricles looked enlarged.  The things he was seeing could not be fixed. He thought there was a very low chance of survival. At some point while he was talking I went numb. I could not process what he was saying.  It was unbelievable. I thought surely he was not talking to me. This is something they tell other people. Not me.  After awhile, what he was saying began to sink in. I looked at my baby, my little Victoria, on the screen and felt so sad that I would never get to know her. The doctor repeatedly told us this was not our fault. He repeatedly told us how sorry he was. I remember the grip of his hand on my ankle as he said those words. He gave us the option to terminate the pregnancy, which we refused. Thankfully, our doctor was very supportive of that decision and told us that he loved to be proved wrong by babies and had personally seen miracles. He also told us we could do a CVS to see if they could find out what caused this to happen. It wouldn’t change the fact that they couldn’t do anything for her, but it would give some insight into what happened and for future pregnancies.  Based on what he saw he told us this would not happen again.

We asked if we could have a moment to ourselves to discuss the CVS. Once we were alone we just looked at each other for a second like, “Did you just hear what I did?” We prayed for our little girl and cried together. We decided to do the CVS. They took a sample of my placenta to test the chromosomes. Initial testing would tell us if it was Trisomy 13 or Trisomy 18 the usual culprits for something like this. Subsequent testing would look at all the chromosomes.

Mike and I left the office devastated. Neither of us returned to work that day. We each called our parents and wept while we recounted the grim prognosis for our little Victoria. I remember the sound of our gut wrenching sobs echoing through the house as we held on to each other after that last phone call. I felt like I was mourning her then.  That night in bed through crying and talking we decided to believe God for a miracle. We decided to get her room ready for her and take whatever time we would get with her, a few days, a few weeks, a few years, a lifetime, and whatever quality of life she was given. Neither of us slept well that night. I had a dream in which I told God that if he didn’t do a miracle my baby would die. The next day we both stayed home to process and spend time together. It felt like we were in a nightmare that we couldn’t wake up from.

Hope

People from all over began praying for us as we were placed on church prayer chains. My mom told me that two of the prayer intercessors from my church said they “saw” amniotic fluid going in around the baby. Mike and I both kept telling Victoria that we loved her and that she would live.  We told her in faith that she had sufficient fluid and that her organs were functioning properly.  It was difficult to stay positive in my thoughts especially when I had to recite the grim details to others. I remember thinking that if I had just miscarried this would be over. I had to force myself to keep drinking water and taking my prenatals. I battled the thought that it didn’t matter anymore. When I first felt movement, I had to force myself to enjoy it instead of looking at it as a reminder of the prognosis. In spite of those things, I felt a peace I couldn’t explain. I still think it was the prayers and support of God’s people that brought that peace.
Mike’s parents came to visit us and brought a faith journal filled with scriptures they used when they went through the traumatic events following Matthew’s (Mike’s brother) birth. After he was born, Matthew stopped breathing. He began breathing again some minutes later, but he had one problem after another as a result.  Mike’s mom shared with us the scriptures she used for encouragement as they sought God for healing. This was a big encouragement to Mike and me. We began using God’s word to access by faith God’s promises. I began my own “Victoria Journal” where I recorded scriptures about healing, and life. The book began with:

God is not a man that He should lie, not a Son of man, that He should repent; has He said, and will He not do it? Or has he spoken, and will He not make it good?

Numbers 23:19

It is impossible for God to lie.

Hebrews 6:18

So shall My word be which goes forth from My mouth; it shall not return to me empty, without accomplishing what I desire, and without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.

Isaiah 55:11

I am watching over My word to perform it.

Jeremiah 1:12

He (Jesus) was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

Isaiah 53:5

…by his wounds you have been healed.

I Peter 2:24b

We overcome by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of our testimony.

Revelation 12:11

They shall not labor in vain, nor bear children for calamity; for they are the offspring of those blessed by the Lord, and their descendants with them.

Isaiah 65:23

It will also come to pass that before they call, I will answer; and while they are still speaking, I will hear.

Isaiah 65:24

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “ plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (we substituted “you” with “Victoria”)

Jeremiah 29:11

And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up.

James 5:15

I shall not die, but live and declare the works of the Lord. (this was the scripture I spoke over Victoria the most using her name instead of “I”)

Psalm 118:17

The word of God brought us hope. To receive God’s promise of healing we had to do four things:

     1.    Make the decision: “I will not be defeated. I will receive from God.”

2.    Resist Satan. Refuse to entertain his thoughts.

3.    Give our attention to the word of God.

4.    Refuse to speak words contrary to what you believe you have received. Answer every doubt immediately with the word.

My Grandma sent me a DVD of healings, specifically a couple who were told their baby would have Down ’s syndrome, but saw their baby healed in the womb and born normal. This was an encouragement to my faith. We prayed and spoke God’s word over Victoria for the next month.

Hope Deferred

At 23 weeks we had another ultrasound with my ob-gyn. We were hopeful and excited that we would see an increase in the amniotic fluid. There was no change in Victoria’s condition. I was extremely disappointed. I had hoped for some improvement. I felt so helpless. I had felt like I was doing something by speaking the word of God over Victoria. I had been working so hard over the last month to believe, have faith, and access the promise of healing. All I could do was trust God and rest in his promises. I really struggled after that appointment. I wondered if I didn’t have enough faith. I thought maybe I wasn’t doing it right.  I wished I’d never gotten pregnant. I wrote in my journal on 2-17-11:

 
This experience has been so awful! It is still unbelievable at moments that this is happening.

The good news was that Victoria had grown and Mike and I had been feeling her kicking! 

We were scheduled for another appointment with the perintologist a week later. I was nervous about it. I spent a lot of time praying and quoting God’s word and promises. We prayed together on the way to the appointment and I remember shaking with nervous fear. I didn’t expect to hear great news like last time. I just wanted to keep my emotions on an even plane. The prognosis was very poor. Now that Victoria was bigger they could see that she only had one kidney and it was filled with cystic masses preventing it from functioning. This was the reason that was so little amniotic fluid. A secondary issue was that her lungs would not be able to develop without fluid around her. Just as serious as her kidneys was her heart. It had to work extra hard, so it was enlarged (also making hard for her lungs to develop). The doctor told us that the membranes of the heart were very thick, making it pump stiffly instead of a nice squishy contraction. He said he saw what looked like the beginning of heart failure.  I wrote in my journal on 2-22-11:

I don’t understand why God has not healed her yet. I know this is not right. I’ve prayed, quoted God’s word, and spoke in faith.  I don’t know if I’m missing something, or doing something wrong. Maybe I’ve doubted too much. It’s so hard not to focus on and accept the negative details. It looks so bad for her. I don’t know what to do. God help us. Help our unbelief.

  

 I feel guilty, or responsible in a way for not having enough faith, or for doubting, or accepting the bad reports.

We had received the results from the CVS just before this last appointment. I spoke with a genetic counselor who told me all the results (for Trisomy 13 & 18 and all chromosomes) came back normal (Praise God!). We had the option to do a further, more in depth test, but we declined. I was also told we could do an autopsy after she passed away. There was just no explanation as far as anyone could see. We did find out with the genetic testing that she was 100% girl!

Fight of Faith

Over the next three months we continued going to doctor appointments every two weeks alternating between my regular ob-gyn and the perintologist. I began to hate doctor appointments. Every time I got a call from my doctor I held my breath. We had our good days when we felt full of faith, and our bad days when doubt and fear threatened to overwhelm us. During this time I began listening to teaching on faith and the believer’s authority. I felt excited in my spirit about what I was learning.  I began to dig into God’s word. Here are some things I learned and began trying to apply:

1.    God has already done everything for us.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ.

            Ephesians 1:3

            …by his wounds you have been healed.

I Peter 2:24b

…the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparable great power for us who believe.

Ephesians 1: 18b-19a

(this scripture says the inheritance, healing etc., is in me)

2.    Faith is my positive response to what God has already done for me by his grace.

For it is by grace you have been saved (the greatest miracle), through faith.

Ephesians 2:8

3.    Jesus gave us the authority.

He called his twelve disciples to him and gave them authority to drive out evil spirits and to heal every disease and sickness.

Matthew 10:1

4.    I have to use that authority and speak in faith.

From the fruit of his mouth a man’s stomach is filled; with the harvest from his lips he is satisfied. The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit.

Proverbs 18:20-21

…the God who gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were. (God’s faith)

Romans 4:17

…I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, move from here to there, and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.

Matthew 17:20

For verily I say unto you that whosoever shall say unto this mountain be thou removed and be though cast into the sea; and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those things which he sayeth shall come to pass, he shall have whatsoever he saith.

Mark 11:23

5.    Unbelief counteracts faith.

Then the disciples came to Jesus in private and asked, “Why couldn’t we drive it (evil spirit) out?” He replied, “Because *you have so little faith.”

Matthew 17:19-20a

*The KJV says “Because of your unbelief.”

Although I grew up with these concepts they felt fresh and new to me. I began to take them to a new level as I applied them. I took my authority in Christ and commanded the healing and miracle that God already provided to manifest in the physical realm. I took authority over Satan and my unbelief. I did my best to build and strengthen my faith and decrease the unbelief and fear in my heart.

We also acted on our faith.

We got her room ready.

We threw showers in anticipation of her arrival.

It may seem foolish to some people, but I made a choice to take God at his word.

Victoria Meets Us

After my trip up north to MI for the shower in late April 2011, I began to experience pre-labor contractions. I worked for four excruciating days before making an appointment on April 28^th with my ob-gyn. She put me on bed rest until my appointment with the perintologist the following week. Mike was getting really excited about the possibility of Victoria coming, and started packing a hospital bag, and getting her car seat ready. On May 4^th we went to our appointment with the perintologist. The doctor saw that for the first time, Victoria had not kept up with where she should be on her growth. He wanted to induce labor, do a vaginal delivery, and let us enjoy what time we could with her. We agreed and went home to get our things. We held out that she would be healed after she was born. I felt relief that this would soon be over.

After we were admitted, we learned that I was dilated to 3cm! Victoria was coming early on her own! We were visited by a neonatologist  who told us that if he saw there was anything he could do for her he would take her to the NICU, but if not he didn’t want to take her there. He encouraged us to hold onto her and love her.

 Victoria Ann Fancher was born breach at 1:54 am on May 5^th weighing 3 lbs. 11 oz. and 15 in. long. She was so tiny and beautiful!

She never cried, nor did she open her eyes. I held her first. She was so warm and her skin so soft. She gasped for air periodically as I held her. She had such beautiful lips. I told her I loved her. I told her she would live. Mike held her in his arms and told her how much he loved her too. I think she died in Mike’s arms because when I got her back I never saw her breathe again. We spent a couple of hours holding her, crying, telling her how much we loved her, and of all the plans we’d had for her. We even prayed one last time for her. Finally, we let her go.

I think she came six weeks early because she wanted to meet us before she left.

Saying Goodbye

The next few days were a disoriented, numb blur, yet poignantly clear in their agony. We had to decide what to do with Victoria. Did we want to have a funeral? A cremation? We couldn’t just leave her. No one should ever have to make these decisions for their baby. We decided to have a funeral and bury her in the same cemetery as Mike’s grandparents. That way she would always be near family. I also decided that I wanted to buy a beautiful dress for Victoria to wear, give her a stuffed animal to cuddle with, and put a picture of the three of us in the hospital together in her casket. We made an appointment to meet with a funeral home on the day we were released from the hospital.

We made our decisions through our tears: Choosing the headstone and what we wanted engraved on it, we would carry her out to the hearse in her little casket, only our immediate family would attend, and yes, apply embalming cream to her face since babies are too little to properly embalm, but her coloring isn’t so good now.

They sent us out of their office with a green folder of our paperwork much like a folder given to prospective parents at our Montessori school. My heart ached at the thought that I would never leave a school with a folder containing Victoria’s enrollment papers, only this folder containing death documents from the funeral home. We walked out to the Garden of Angels where all the babies are buried to pick Victoria’s spot. We weren’t really given a choice. It was the next available spot and we just had to approve it. The man marked it with a yellow flag. As we left I looked back to see her spot among the other babies and began to cry. Oh, how I wished I was looking at her crib among the other babies at her little school.

We went shopping for the perfect dress, bracelet, shoes, and headband. I found myself having fun. I realized I was celebrating her. I was having a good time shopping for and dressing up my daughter. This was the one time I would be able to do this for her. We found ourselves in a strange place of celebrating her and mourning her at the same time. As long as I had this to do for her she was still not quite dead to me. Mike said, “This is her recitals, soccer matches, graduation, and wedding. This is her one event and we want it to be the best!”

We shopped for a stuffed animal and picture frames to hold our cherished moments in the hospital that we would display at the funeral. My parents arrived from MI to grieve with us and take care of us.

May 8^th, the day before Victoria’s funeral was Mother’s Day. My milk came in and I had no baby to give it to.

May 9^th, the day of her funeral Mike and I arrived early so we could spend time alone with her. Walking in was difficult. Seeing her tiny casket was difficult. She looked dead this time. We were allowed to hold her. We took pictures of us holding her in her beautiful dress. 

My mom got to hold her. I wanted her to hold my baby daughter, but I was sad it was at her funeral, and that she didn’t look as good as she did in the hospital. Mike and I both read the letters that we had written to Victoria and then tucked them into her casket next to her. We carried her out to the hearse and then followed it to the grave side for the committal service. We chose not to watch her put into the ground and buried. We did walk to her spot to show our families where she would be buried. It had been dug out and a large board placed over the hole. Mike and I both felt a sense of closure. I understand why we do funerals. It helped me through the initial process of grief.

It is six weeks later and I am still grieving her. I will never “get over it”. I will grieve her always. I grieve for all that will never be: The stroller walks, dropping her off at kindergarten, proudly watching her in holiday plays, teaching her to read, singing “Happy Birthday” to her, watching her grow up. I didn’t want just any baby. I wanted her. I wanted Victoria.

My faith has also been shattered. I don’t know what went wrong. I don’t know why she didn’t receive her healing, her miracle. Maybe I missed something. Maybe I had too much unbelief. Maybe it has nothing to do with any of that. It will take time to rebuild my faith and trust. I don’t blame God for this. I don’t believe it was his will for my daughter to be sick, or that she die. I don’t understand everything, but I know that she is in heaven and I will see her again.