Our Stories by:Eric Zeigler

    Growing up in a Christian family, with parents that practice everyday what you hear in church on Sunday, I always had God in my life.  With that foundation, I was able to avoid many pitfalls that hurt so many young people growing up.  At the same time, when you don’t face many struggles in life, you don’t have the opportunity or the need to depend on God.  I knew he was always there for me, but that led to me taking our relationship for granted.
   All that changed on June 8, 2008.  Kelly, my wife, was pregnant with our second child and that was the date that her doctor scheduled to have her induced.  We had already found out the sex of the child, a boy, and the fact that we knew the date he would be born left little room for surprise.  Everything was so planned out and scheduled that there lacked the nervous feeling that accompanied the birth of our first child, Mya, in March 2007.  All the tests that had been done prior to this day were great, and we had the utmost confidence in the entire process.  Kelly’s sisters were in the prep room with us, just killing time, waiting for the drugs to take affect and the baby to start dropping.  We were playing games and joking, just waiting for our boy’s arrival.  After a few hours, the doctor thought things were not progressing as expected, so the she wanted to check Kelly and the baby.  At that point things took a turn for the worse.  Kelly started to have heavy bleeding, and immediately six or seven nurses were called in.  The panic on the face of the doctor sent a sick feeling all through me.    She was crying as they ran her out, and I told her to be strong, and promised everything would be fine.  A feeling helplessness hit me like a wave.  I was totally incapacitated.  Kelly was rushed to the emergency room for a C-section.  The doctor ran me to a prep room.  Through a mixed stream of medical jargon and cursing, she attempted to explain the situation to a lost father & husband.  The only message that I was receiving clearly was the baby needed to be out now!
    She apologized that I couldn’t join Kelly, as she led me to a lonely chair outside the emergency room.  I was left with random conversation from the emergency room, my own terrible thoughts and fears, and God.  There couldn’t have been anyone in the world praying as hard as I was at that moment.  I knew that if there was a listening God, that I should have his full attention.  Doctors were scrubbing in and running into the room.  Seconds felt like hours. I prayed for Kelly, wisdom for the doctors, and strength for my little boy.   Between prayers and crazy thoughts I tried to make out the conversation in the room.  The half sentences that were audible drove me nuts.  Certainly my own paranoia was causing me to hear the worst of things.  Suddenly, and very clear, a doctor yelled, “We don’t have a pulse!!”
    My prayers grew stronger, but changed from hope to needing strength.  If I was going to be the pillar that my family needed, I needed strength, because I was sure we had just lost our son.  Moments later a doctor came out to explain the situation.  Our boy, Dane Mitchell Zeigler, was born on June 8, 2008.  He lost a lot of blood during delivery, and need to be resuscitated, but was alive and heading to the NICU.  Kelly was being taken to the recovery area, and I could meet her there.  She had to put under anesthesia to perform the surgery, so she was going to be very confused on what was going on.  Kelly woke up crying, asking about Dane and needing to see him.  I explained the situation the best I could, and wanted her to know how strong she and Dane both were.  Because of her condition and need to recover, she would not be able to go to see Dane yet.                                 
   The nurse led me to the NICU, where I was able to see my baby boy.  Wow!  As any parent who gets to see their child for the first time, you know that words can’t do it justice.  He had strawberry blonde hair, a trait that he picked up from my wife’s side of the family.  Even though he was hooked up to all sorts of machines, and tubes, Dane was precious.  He had these black, beady eyes and was looking all around and squirming – all great signs.  I stuck my finger out for Dane to touch, and thanked God that our miracle was here. The head of NICU explained the next couple hours were going to be a battle for Dane.  The heavy bleeding that preceded Kelly being whisked away to delivery was blood that Dane had lost.  A blood transfusion was a possibility, if Dane didn’t continue to improve.  The doctor was optimistic, and I was sure everything would now be OK.  Dane was being treated by an excellent staff and looked so good.  I needed to go and tell Kelly all about our boy, and knew the wait was killing her.  Through the euphoria of being a proud father, I described Dane to Kelly.  At the same time, I relayed the words of caution from the doctor, as best I could.  Until we had Dane in our arms, we had to keep reassuring each other that things would be fine.
   Both Kelly and my family came to the hospital.  The support was amazing.  We prayed for our family and Dane - prayed for another miracle.  We were waiting for Kelly to be cleared to see Dane, when the nurse approached asking for the father.  Again I was led to the NICU to speak with the doctor.  They had tried to give Dane a blood transfusion, but he crashed.  They were able to resuscitate him, but they feared it could happen again.  Dane was lying in the bubble, just worn out.  His eyes were closed, and lacked the energy to move at all.  His body was rejecting the blood transfusion.  They would try to give him the blood again, but wanted me to be prepared to make an awful decision.  Medically they could resuscitate our boy countless times, and keep him alive, but at what price?  If he continued to crash and continue to be resuscitated, Dane would be suffering.
   I reported the somber update to our family.   It was Kelly and my wish to have Dane baptized, so the hospital chaplain was to meet our family in the NICU.   As we got there, the doctor told me that Dane had crashed again.  His body just couldn’t handle the blood they were trying to give him.  What an awful moment.  Our world had crashed down on us.  It was my job to convince Kelly that it was time to take him off of the machines.  She pleaded to God, to Dane, to the doctors for more time.  The look of pain on her face as she held our boy is haunting to me.  God needed Dane, and it was time for him to go be with him.
   We sat and held him as a family.  He was off their machines, and the tubes were removed.  Dane passed on June 9, four hours after he was born.  He was precious.  I held him, kissed him, and told him about his big sister, and asked him to be her guardian angel.  The NICU nurses allowed us to spend as much time as we needed.  Our family stayed in support as we loved our boy.
   Kelly and I retreated to our room, where we held each other, cried, and prayed.  Thinking that there would be no chance of sleeping, I quickly passed out.  I was drained.  The rollercoaster of emotions left us beaten.
   The next day came, and were left to process the events of Dane’s life.  Over the next 2 days we met with several doctors explaining what had happened.  Vasa Previa is a rarely (1:2500) reported condition in which fetal blood vessel(s) from the placenta or umbilical cord crosses the entrance to the birth canal, beneath the baby. The condition has a high fetal mortality rate (50-95%). This can be attributed to rapid fetal bleeding resulting from the vessels tearing when the cervix dilates, membranes rupture or if the vessels become pinched off as they are compressed between the baby and the walls of the birth canal.
    My parents brought Mya, our 1 year old, to the hospital.  She was wearing a summer hat and carrying a flower for Mommy.  There would be countless days over the next several months when Mya would provide the much needed sunshine in our lives.  We put our hearts into being the best parents for her, and in doing so, she has helped us heal.
   God has provided strength and direction when we have felt lost.  Through our church, we found a great group of friends that all went through similar experiences.  It has been amazing to share stories and be able to connect with others.  Kelly and I are so thankful to have them in our lives.  When Kelly got pregnant again, they were there to just listen to our fears and provide love.  In June 2009, God blessed us with another girl, Macy.  Our two girls are everything to us.      

   We have promised Dane to continue to spread awareness for Vasa Previa and honor him through different charities.  He is a part of my life everyday and I miss him so much.  Any time I can open up and tell people about my boy, it becomes a healing experience for me.

                               

                              
Below is a link to a video we made to honor Dane.




In Honor of Dane Zeigler


 
           

"I Remember You Joeli Grace Dougherty" by Abi Dougherty

I Remember You Joeli Grace Dougherty

I remember that day that I began to think, "Hmm is there someone forming within me?”

I remember the day that I took that test; the one that made me gasp with joy, the one that took my breath away, the one that put a sizzle in my feet as I leapt with excitement and thankfulness.

I remember the way I felt when I called Daddy to say, "Happy early Father's Day again", to which he replied, "No way!”

I remember the tears welling up in your Grandpa's eyes as I shared the joyous news of your growing little self and the silly way Grandma answered when I said, "By the way, did I tell you Seana's gonna be a big sister?" Now Grandma said, "Oh, yeah...wait, what?" and Grandpa and your Uncle Joe said, "Abi are you serious?"

I remember the sweet words my Dad whispered in my ear, that I treasure to this day.

I remember the first time I saw you bouncing around deep within me, growing, heart-beating, praising the Father just by your beautiful form.

I remember the thoughts I had of you, the anticipation of your arrival, and the plans for your future.

I remember your sister "feeding" you, through my belly button and always kissing you and saying, "Love you baby".

I remember all those treasured first kicks and squirms I felt, those tiny little movements in the hidden place.

I remember our times together when I’d sit and talk to you and tell you I love you and pray for you before bed.

I remember all the beautiful things that I treasure and am so thankful the Lord blessed me with before you left this world to see glory and experience true Light.

Then, there is darkness, a place where no glimmer of light shines, a place inside my mind I wish had no existence.

It is the place where all the awful memories lie, where they are stored away, where I try so hard to push them so far away that sometimes I forget they exist-even if for a moment- and I “pretend” you are here in my arms; safe, heart beating steadily, baby breath on my neck as I rock you to sleep, stinky little toes that I tickle while I change your little diaper, giggling with your sister in the back seat as we drive, you smiling at me as I kiss you goodnight.

Yet these dreams I had for you are starkly contrasted by the harsh reality that you are no more. Your precious little hands and feet, your body, so small yet so amazingly formed and knit together, lies in the grave.

I remember the things any mother who's experienced a loss would wish to forget.
“Why do you share this?” one may ask. To that I say, read on, and see; see how darkness is erased in the light, the True Light.

I remember that appointment, my five month regular check up when they could not find a heartbeat.

The somber look on the practitioner’s faces…The loud obnoxious happiness outside our anxious, heartbroken and silent room after we arrived at the hospital in triage.

The quiet voices that tried to say, “There’s no heartbeat”.  How it happened: They walked in the room, I’d told Sean, if you see the baby moving and heart beating just smile at me and nod. See, they’d placed the screen away from me so I couldn’t see. Well, the technician came in and began, and well, all I remember is this blank stare of confusion on Sean’s face. From here it gets kind of blurry as everything seems to be traveling into a dark hole. I grabbed the screen and for a brief moment beheld your lifeless frame on the screen, not dancing, no heart beating; it was just you lying there. My heart breaking—I remember I just wanted to name you, to give you a name and speak it. I asked, “What is it?” But because of how you laid there was no way to tell you were my little girl.

I remember the loud scream, wail, sobbing, utterly helpless noise I made as I cried out, “NO!”

I remember holding on to some glimmer of hope as those moments held such confusion and fear.

I remember thinking, “but I just felt a kick…like a week or so ago” and poking and jiggling myself as if trying to invoke some type of reaction, a kick, a squirm, anything…..NOTHING.

But I remember getting these muscle twitches and thinking-“maybe, maybe that was the baby.”

And then the Doctor came in to try and get a heartbeat on the Doppler to assure me that it was a reality since it just was not sinking in that you were gone. And as he tried it seemed there was a faint heartbeat and even he could not be sure it was not you. He ordered another ultrasound and this time I sat full faced in the view of the screen, as if waiting to scream out, “THANK YOU GOD-I know You work miracles”-all the while praying His hand would resurrect you or sustain you if you were alive but hurt.

And the screen was still.

The screen was still?

The screen was still.

My heart pounding…

My heart breaking…

Then we began discussing, “our options”. 1. Go home and wait a few more days to see if I begin labor on my own, 2. Go through surgery or 3. Be induced and try to birth naturally.

These options all seemed so cold. How could we, how could I choose which way I wanted this ordeal to end? It was inevitable, I would give birth to death and that is still a reality that stings me to my core.

We decided to stay and be induced.

Induced?

Induced into labor-before I’d always thought of labor as the progression to joy, celebration, LIFE…

But now, it was a cold, dark, seemingly pointless way to deliver my child who would never breathe our air or see my face.

Then a prayer, from the depths of my soul, relinquishing my “right” to have you as my own, my “right” to have my way, my desires, my plans come to pass…and instead acknowledging that even amidst my devastation, He was in control and He would indeed prosper me and give me a hope for the future. A prayer for help. For a speedy delivery, free of complications. And He does answer prayer! And He did answer prayer!

And so it began, a long process of needles and medicine and pain.

Overnight the contractions would come, back and forth, like waves on the sea. I would breathe out as if to blow them away from me and then back they would flow upon me again like a never ending punishing tide.

And then there was family, surrounding me, like a blanket of love and comfort and strength. There were these gentle encouraging words of a sorrowful Father and Mother. There were kind soft calming strokes upon my head and hands from my Husband and my Sister. There were soft whispers of, “I’m so sorry” and “We love you!”

But, again before you knew it, those moments were over as the work of delivery approached.

I cannot describe it any other way than it was horrible.

The worst feeling I’ve ever had in my life.

The halls were so quiet, the nurses weren’t joyous and smiling, they were quiet and somber.

My next memories are too awful to recount, as I delivered death rather than life. We remember how “backwards” it all felt.

It was over and I wept bitterly aloud.

There you were, wrapped in a soft pink blanket, a blanket that was small enough to be called a washcloth. Your frame was perfect, ten unbelievably small toes and ten delicately beautiful fingers-perfect-just perfect. Your eyes, nose, ears, mouth, arms and knees-all so remarkably small, yet intricately formed and beautifully crafted by God. There you were in my arms.

It was over. And soon we would have to leave. We would go and you would stay there, all alone, by yourself. Lying in your quiet cradle rather than in my arms, it was so backwards. I felt so terrible, sick, awful leaving you there.

Leave the hospital empty handed.

Leave empty handed? And there we were leaving empty handed, empty and lonely and hurting, confused and in shock, some of the worst moments and feelings in my life. Again the question may be asked, “Why recount all these terrible memories too? Why not just focus on the positive and have that be the end of it? Why remember the bitter heartache, the hurt, the pain, the emptiness?”

And here it is, the answer.

Jesus.

Jesus?

Yes, Jesus. He is The Answer. The Truth… The Light... The Way… and The Life.

So now Joeli I will try for a moment to speak not to you, but for you and in your memory…

Because you see my friend, in Him, though we die, we yet LIVE! That word means so much more to me now!

Live!

Because though she dies, she yet lives with Him…Her body in the grave, but her spirit with her Maker. And for that I rejoice.

I rejoice.

I REJOICE!

In Him, weeping may last for a night, but JOY cometh in the morning. Because His Word tells us that in this world we will have trouble but to take heart for He has overcome the world. See I share both the good and the bad because I choose to believe that through the good I am thankful and blessed and through the bad I am reminded that this life is but a glimmer, a moment, a brief breathe—but His eternal life, that is what lasts, that is what I long for, that is what I rejoice in! We are not promised life without death or pain or struggle here, but in fact it was His original intent for life to be without these. No, but He gives gladness for mourning, beauty for ashes, and praise in place of despair.

And let me just say, it is joy that I have found! For He gives life and life more abundantly!

So Joeli, my dear sweet Joeli Grace, I remember you! And I will always honor your memory by sharing what I believe God’s purpose was in your life. To share of His miraculous love...Of His power over life and death…Of His grace that is more than enough…Of His creativity in molding you and making you…Of His desire for each of His creations to turn and praise their Maker—

So Joeli, you leave behind a legacy of sharing the Good News of Christ Jesus, my sweet child. The News that Jesus Christ died and now lives again and has conquered the power of sin and death. And that He loves us and wants to call us His own. He promises in John 1:9 and 10, “That if you confess with your mouth, Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead you will be saved! For it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved and it is with your heart that you believe and are justified.”

I remember you Joeli Grace Dougherty.

I remember you.

~In Honor of my dear sweet Joeli Grace Dougherty born 1/30/08, weighing a mere 4.9 ounces and measuring 8 inches long. She may have been small in frame, but may her legacy be big enough to last a lifetime!

Our Stories by: Abi Dougherty

   Baby Joeli Grace was born January 30th, 2008 at 11:30 am. She was beautiful, just like her older sister Seana Jane! She is named after both of her Grandma’s middle names Jo and Elizabeth and Grace is after our maternal Grandma’s. She weighed a mere 4.9oz and was 8 inches long. We do not know a reason, at this point, but her heart stopped beating. Thank you to all who prayed for a quick delivery and no further complications. Those prayers are so precious to us and will continue to be for quite  awhile.
   Right now we are trusting God and His faithful plan! We know full well that our little angel girl, Joeli Grace is in heaven with Him in NO PAIN and NO SORROW! She is happy and healthy and I'm sure is keeping God busy with her antics, as her older sis does so well to us...heehee! I like to think of Joeli as our precious reminder of how amazing our Jesus really is, how faithful His plans are and that NOTHING is promised to us and nothing is deserved or owed to us. She, as her daddy says, "taught us of how precious life really is."
   I wish you all could have seen her precious little hands and her long little feet. How formed they were, intricate, and lovely. What a perfect visible image of God's intricate little handy-work and details. How wonderful He is! We are praising Him for her life, short as it was, and we are thanking Him for her future and our future too, with Him, in NO MORE PAIN, and NO MORE SORROW, where the sting of death is NO MORE!
   It is only by His grace that our hearts will mend. We are all sinners, saved by God's infinite grace. Romans 3:23 "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." It is only by accepting the blood of Jesus as our atonement and asking Him to come into our heart and save us from our sin. Romans 6:23 says, "For the wages of sin is death, BUT the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." 1st John 1:9 says, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." If you don't know Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior, I invite you to seek Him out, because He is an amazing and intricate God, full of grace, mercy, peace, joy and HOPE FOR A FUTURE!
   We love you all and appreciate all your support. May God use little Joeli Grace's life and death to teach us all the important lesson of how fragile and precious life is and not to waste it in worldly ambitions and selfish gain.

In Christ,
Sean, Abi and Seana Jane
For Joeli Grace Dougherty

2nd Corinthians 12:9-10 "But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’." Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

Paul: discussing his trials and the pain that satan had been inflicting upon him and he had asked God three times to take it from him, but the answer the Lord says is so beautiful.

Our Stories by: Matt Goss

   For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of having my own family. Maybe it was due to the fact that I was an only child, or possibly because I grew up in a broken home. Each of those scenarios most like helped create within me an innate desire to have a family of my own.

I met my wife Kim while I was in my second year of college. At the time I wasn’t specifically looking for a relationship, but I quickly fell in love. Six months after meeting Kim I asked her to marry me! Nine months later we were married. Even though we didn’t date very long, I felt like I’d known her all of my life. We had the same dreams, plans, passions and desires. We both loved God, music (in fact that was what drew us together), and both ultimately had a desire to have children.

We waited for five years before deciding to move forward with trying to have children. Once we started trying, Kim almost immediately became pregnant with our first daughter Isabella! What a blessing she was to us. The pregnancy was relatively easy, no complications during birth. It was basically a “text book” pregnancy. Not long after that she was pregnant with our first son Caleb. Once again it was a pretty smooth pregnancy and delivery.

   In the mean time, several friends of ours suffered losses during their pregnancies. Two of these losses were stillbirths. We tried our best to walk along side these couples and provide the best support we could, but we often felt inadequate to share any hope or comfort to them. Often times our words seemed empty and cliché. Often times I wondered why this was happening all around us and would begin to fear that God was somehow preparing us for something.

We then found out that Kim was pregnant for the third time. During this time Kim contracted a virus called “CMV”. The doctors immediately went on to tell us that this is one of the leading causes of stillbirths, miscarriage, and downs syndrome. We were heartbroken and scared. Sometimes, fear of the unknown can feel as debilitating as the loss itself. I can still recall one of the doctors giving us our options. One of the “options” was ending the pregnancy. This was never an option for us. We believe that God is the giver of life, and only He has the right to decided whether or not the child will live on this earth or not. We began preparing ourselves for the worst, but continued planning and praying for the best.

   We met with a specialist throughout the pregnancy and were often reassured that everything was looking well. That’s when our little Lilah was born, a completely healthy little girl who would quickly become the “fireball” in the family. She can be the most loving and sweet little girl you’ve ever seen, but in the same breath she can be very scrappy and strong willed!

   Approximately two years after having Lilah we found out that Kim was pregnant again. This was not a planned pregnancy, but we were excited nonetheless. We started wondering if Caleb would finally have the brother he always wanted… In fact we were positive that this was a little boy! Approximately four months into the pregnancy, Kim went in for a normal checkup. I stayed home with Lilah and Caleb that day and Isabella was in school. That’s when Kim called home and told me they couldn’t hear a heartbeat. She was going in for an emergency ultrasound… All of my fears immediately came to surface. I began praying and questioning God, pleading with Him to spare the life of our little baby. The moment I arrived, Kim was coming out of the ultrasound room. Everything was fine… We were so relieved. But deep down we still had a sense of insecurity about this pregnancy.

   One month later Kim went in for another appointment. I received a similar call… I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but I knew that at this point they should have been able to hear the heartbeat. I immediately rushed in to meet Kim. This time when the ultrasound image came up, there was no heartbeat. We were absolutely shocked… We just couldn’t understand why this was happening. The next twenty-four hours were a blur. We were immediately scheduled for delivery at the hospital. We were there through the night. The next day, March 10th, 2007 Kim gave birth to our second son. We named him Braydon, which means, “called of God”. We were able to hold him for a little while and pray with him. This was by far the darkest moment of my life. We buried him across the street from Kim’s parents home where she grew up.

   As we began the grieving process, we both dealt with our pain quite differently. It seemed to me that Kim was diving head first into the grief process. She locked herself in our bedroom and wept, wrote letters to Braydon in her journal, paged through his pictures and held the paper with his footprints and birth certificate. I however withdrew… I felt that I needed to be strong for my family and for those around me. I poured my time and energy into our other kids, the house, and my job. This seemed to work for a while, but I was dying inside. I began to resent God, resent work, and started struggling with deep, deep anger. I had bottled everything up so much that at one point it all exploded.

One day I decided to take the family to Baltimore for the day to clear our minds and have some fun together. It seemed like a great idea at the time. We were about 15 minutes away from the aquarium when traffic came to a standstill… I tried several alternate routes but it just kept getting worse. At one point I was trying to get back onto the highway and someone wouldn’t let me in. I proceeded to roll down my window, flipped him off, and shouted every curse word I’ve ever heard or known all in one breath!!! I even offered to help him out of his car! Kim and the kids were shocked… They’ve never seen me act like this before.

   After that incident, I realized that I needed people in my life to talk through these issues and frustrations with. God placed several amazing people around Kim & I to help us through that time. Many of them were the same friends we had reached out to during their time of loss. When you talk with someone who’s been through something similar, there’s an amazing bond that forms between you. We’ve described it many times as being part of a special club that you never would have signed up for, but you’re so thankful for the other people who are in it. It’s so important to know that you’re not alone.

   Once we experienced the outpouring of love and support from others who had lost, we wanted to reach out and use our story to help others heal as well. We decided to start a support group for couples who have lost babies. Our first meeting felt like such a sacred time. As we began to share, we began to heal. As we began to reach out, God began to reach in and start making something beautiful out of our brokenness.

   After our group had been together for a few months, we found out that three of us were pregnant again and were expecting within weeks of each other! The next eight months felt like an eternity. We were all seeing the same doctors and specialist, sharing war stories and gynecological nightmares!!! It really was a blast!!! It was so comforting though to have a safe environment to share our hopes, dreams, and fears. We felt such support throughout the pregnancy even though we were often getting mixed signals from the specialists. We still had a peace throughout the pregnancy mainly because of the amazing people we had to lean on. Our friends gave birth to two amazing little girls Sadie and Macy! We were so excited for them!!!

   On July 15th our precious little Adeline was born. She spent one week in the NICU and came home completely healthy! She has been such a blessing to our family. It hasn’t completely taken the pain away from losing our little Braydon, but having Adeline has definitely brought a new sense of Joy into our home. We thank God each day for each of our children, including Braydon.

 

Our Stories by: Kim Goss

   To introduce ourselves to you, we all thought it would be a good idea to share our stories of loss so you, who are dealing with the same loss, may find some comfort and hope through your grief.  Our stories are all so different.  I believe God is using each one for His purpose and plan to bring healing and encouragement.   I pray for you, as you read, that God will speak to you and you will experience His healing and know how great the Father's love is for you.

 

   I wasn't sure how I wanted to go about telling my story.  I've put it off for as long as I could.  It's definitely a hard thing to dive into.  It's not one of those things you want to relive again.  I haven't written about our loss since the weeks right after it happened.  I remember hiding away in our bedroom for a few weeks and just pouring my heart and soul out on paper.  I just felt like I didn't want to keep silent about the agonizing pain I was going through.  I had to get it out somehow...the questions, the anger, the doubting...all of it.  It's been months since I took that journal out and read through it...it's so amazing how it all resurfaces again..like it just happened yesterday.  I can even feel it all again.  I thought I'd start by sharing some of these journal entries with you...

   ~Sunday, March 11th, 2007

My Dearest Braydon,

Daddy and I have not even decided on a name for you yet.  You are so special...I want to pick the perfect name.  When I found out I was pregnant with you I was so excited.  I showed Daddy the pregnancy test as he was working on his computer...he couldn't believe it!  He was a little in shock, being that this was gossling #4!  But he was so happy!  From that moment I couldn't wait to meet you and hold you in my arms.  We told all of our family by making calendars for Christmas gifts and placing a note in the month of August that read, "Reminder, Baby Goss #4 due!"  You were due to arrive on August 18th, 2007.  Our family was so excited to meet you.  Grammy was tearful as she hugged me and Nanny said, "Praise the Lord!"

Everyone was thrilled and anxious for your arrival...but no one more than me.  There is a connection, a bond between a mother and baby that cannot be described.  You were a part of me...from the very day you were conceived you were a part of me.  There is nothing that I wouldn't do for you.  I love you with the deepest love.

I was so excited to find out if you were a boy or a girl, but I had to wait until my 20 week appointment to get an ultrasound.  I was going to get the nursery all ready for you...paint it and decorate it accordingly.  At my second baby checkup, you were almost 13 weeks old.  The midwife was listening for your heartbeat and couldn't find it.  She said you might have just been moving around and in a position where we couldn't hear your heartbeat.  Or she said your due date could be off.  Finally, the words I feared the most, she said you might not be alive.  I was going to have to get an emergency ultrasound so they could find out if you were ok.  As soon as the midwife left the room, I burst into tears.  I was so scared.  I called daddy and waited out in the car until my ultrasound.  I didn't know what to feel or pray.  I didn't want to be too hopeful...what if the worst happens?  But I also wanted to believe that God was going to make everything turn out ok.  I was filled with so many emotions.  So, I just sat there and cried.  I cried out to God and prayed I was worrying over nothing.

Daddy didn't get there in time for the ultrasound, so I had to brave the outcome on my own.  I've never felt so sick.  As I lay there I was so full of fear.  I was just watching the screen, waiting to see the little flicker that indicated your heart beating.  Then...I saw it.  The technician said, "There's your baby's heartbeat."  I said, "Thank you God!"  She said it was 160 bpm...very normal.  And your measurements lined up perfectly with your due date.  I was so relieved and thankful that you were ok.  I couldn't have been happier.

I wish I could say my next appointment turned out the same way.  You were 17 weeks old.  On the drive there, I kept having these awful feelings inside...like the feeling that I would never deliver you full term and get to meet you face to face.  I quickly tried to chase these thoughts from my mind.  Then a song came on.  It was a song called "Blessed be Your Name"  I paid close attention to the part that said, "You give and take away, You give and take away, my heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be Your name."  The "take away" part really resonated with me.  I wasn't sure why.  

When I got to the doctor's, Isabella, your big sister, was with me and I told her she would get to hear your heartbeat for the first time.  When the midwife came in she had me lay down to check the size of my belly and to hear your heartbeat.  She said I was measuring just fine.  Then she listened for your heartbeat...it took several minutes.  It seemed like forever.  She still couldn't find your heartbeat.  I was a little scared, but not as much as the month before.  I just figured maybe you were lying the wrong way again.  So, I waited...again for another hour or so until my ultrasound.  Daddy met me and we went back to the room together.  As we entered, I wasn't sure what I felt.  I laid down on the table and the technician quickly brought up your picture on the screen.  I got very scared.  I didn't see the little flicker that I had seen before.  I waited a minute and asked the technician if she found your heartbeat and she said, "I'm sorry...no, I don't see it."  I can't even tell you sweetheart what I felt because I was so numb at that moment and in complete shock.  I never thought that would be the outcome.  You were just alive and moving around 4 weeks ago!  I saw your heart and your head and your arms and legs and your little hands moving with LIFE.  What could have happened in those short weeks that made you stop breathing and living?  What could I have done to save you my precious Braydon?  It was out of my control.  I would have given my life to save yours.  Whatever  I needed to do, I would have done.  But I didn't know...I didn't know you slipped away so quickly.  I miss you so, so, much.  I know you never looked into my face, but I knew you.  You were a part of me...my beautiful son.  And when you died, a part of me died with you my love.  I love you with all that is in me...with every breath.  I love you.  You will always be my child...  When I held you at the hospital, I couldn't believe how perfectly you were formed.  All of your little fingers and toes.  Your arms and legs.  I could see your ribs showing through your chest. Your eyes, nose, mouth and ears were still needing time to form...but they were all there.  You were so soft and fragile.  I didn't even touch your body because I was afraid.  I wish now that I would have.  I felt so sick sitting there holding you...just staring at you.  I knew this wasn't a dream- it was real life and I was going to have to come to terms with that.  But, I didn't want to take my eyes off of you.  It was so hard to give you back to the nurse, but I knew you weren't even there.  That you had gone to be with Jesus.  That is the only comfort I find in this whole, awful loss of you.  That your Creator is holding you now and you are finally whole and complete.  Besides that, I am having a difficult time finding any comfort at all from anything or anyone.  I feel like running and never stopping...like I want to run from all of this pain inside because I don't want to feel it anymore!  It hurts too badly and I fear it will never go away until my time on Earth is through and I'm in Heaven with you and our Creator.  I hate this.  I don't know what to do with myself.  I feel like I could cry forever and that still wouldn't lessen the pain of losing you.  You are my little boy...my treasure...I wish you could have met your brother, Caleb and your sisters Isabella and Lilah.  They were so excited to meet you.  Isabella was looking forward to being my big helper and helping me take care of you when you arrived.  Lilah is so into her baby dolls...she would have loved to play with you...a real baby doll!  And I'm sad mostly for your brother Caleb because he really wanted to meet you.  He asked Jesus for a brother to play with.  He is so sweet...you would have had so much fun playing with Him.  He is having a hard time(as well as Isabella) understanding what happened to you.  He still asks how you are doing and I have to tell him that you died and went to be with Jesus.  It's so hard explaining to them something I don't even understand myself.  I hate not knowing why certain things happen...and why there has to be so much pain and loss in this life.  How do I deal with this?  How do I accept it?  Right now, I don't want to.  I miss you too much...

   It's been 3 years since my husband Matt and I lost our precious son, Braydon.  Sometimes it's hard to believe that much time has passed.  I still think about him and hold him close in my heart.  I still look through his album of pictures just to see him again.  I still visit his grave and bring him flowers.  I still long to hold him. None of that has changed.  But the hurt has...with time the hurt has lessened and a healing has taken place that I never thought possible 3 years ago.  It's been the hardest thing I've ever had to endure in life.  The pain is so real...but God has never left my side.  He has given me the strength I've needed for each moment.  I give Him all of the glory.

Kim Goss