Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries, Uncategorized

6 Years Ago – The Day of No Heartbeat

Lord, you are the creator and sustainer of life. How could you?

Lord, how could you let me sleep soundly while she was struggling?

Lord, how could you let me eat a nourishing breakfast while she was malnourished? 

Lord, how could you let me slowly ready for the day while she couldn’t get the oxygen to live? 

Had I known, I would have rushed to save her! Had I known, I would have done anything!

But I was kept in the dark, and then into deeper darkness I fell. 

I had no warning, no real fear, no anticipated grief, no chance to save her. Was this your mercy? 

Was this what you call mercy??

I’m her mother! – but you are her God. 

“O God Who Sees All Hidden Places,
You know the wounded depths my heart 
quietly holds. You see the hurt and the confusion
that settle like the drifts of dust in the shadowed corners
of my mind. Restore my soul. 

You read my restless thoughts. 
You note the tears that no one else can see. 
You know why I have found no peace since losing
the child I carried. You see me disquieted by this vague
and guilty sense that I must have done something wrong,
that the responsibility for this devastation rests on me — 
because of something that I did or did not do, 
or because of somehow my body was too weak 
to keep my child. Restore my soul. 

In my head I know, O God, that I am not to blame, 
that I should not have to feel this way, that this was
not my failing or my choice. I loved this baby
from the first stirrings of life. But all the same, 
in my heart a secret shame has lodged. 

It whispers that this loss must be my fault. 
And I have not found a way to silence
that dismaying voice or shake those
painful thoughts. Restore my soul.

Now seek me in my helpless state, O Christ. 
Approach me as you always do, in a tenderness
without reproach or accusation. Give to me the grace
I cannot give myself. Stoop down to lift me in your arms. 
Sing softly in my ear, a song of how all things 
will be made new. Do not let go. Restore my soul. 

Speak peace to me, O Spirit. Teach me now to name 
this sorrow rightly — not as a tragedy I have caused, 
but as a storm I have endured. Restore my soul.

Let healing waters of your love now flow and fill 
this hidden well of pain, O Father. Let me finally rest 
and grieve in you, that grief might do its holy work, 
and that I might in time be whole again. Restore my soul.

Be constant in your mercies, Mighty God.
Awake my sleeping hope. Renew my wearied heart. 
Restore my soul.

Amen.”

A Liturgy for One Who Struggles with Guilt or Shame After a Miscarriage,
Every Moment Holy Volume II: Death, Grief, and Hope by Douglas McKelvey

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

Remembering the Days Right Before

Ginny’s 6th birthday is in a couple days. I’m missing her so much. As all moms do around their kids’ birthdays, I’m thinking back to days leading up to her birth. Although, for me those memories feel tender. I’ve racked my brain over them again and again and again through the years looking for warning signs that should’ve alerted me of her upcoming death. But today I want to look back with the a new filter. I’m not going to focus on the “should’ves”; I’m going to try to remember the ways we were preparing for Ginny and loving each other. 

10 Days – Feb 16 – Ten days before Addie’s birth, we completed her veggie-garden-themed nursery. My mom visited and helped me put the finishing touches. Behind her white crib was a row of sunflowers and a birdhouse sign with her name. A mobile hung above the crib with spinning felted vegetables. Below the crib was a bright green rug that looked like grass. There was handmade veggie artwork and a carrot garland hanging on the wall. Above her yellow changing pad were three little hooks with the letters V, H, and J for Virginia Hope Jones. I hung little ornaments in the shapes of corn, lettuce, and carrots. Above her bookshelf was a sign that read “Good Things Grow Here”. Flowers, decorative gardening tools, “You Grow Girl” pots, and framed pictures of cousins were all around. Friends contributed sweet homemade art, quilts, and blankets. Her closet was fully stocked with the cutest baby girl clothes, organized by size. I couldn’t wait to bring her home to her room. 

9 Days – Feb 17 – The next day, Daniel and I grabbed a pillow and yoga mat and headed to our first childbirth class. We spent the whole day learning about pain management techniques and what to expect from the different phases of labor. 

8 Days – Feb 18 – We put together Ginny’s stroller. I got the carseat ready and practiced buckling it with a stuffed bunny. We just needed to install it in the car. 

7 Days – Feb 19 – I started packing my hospital bag. I made three lists: one for me, one for Daniel, and one for Ginny. 

6 Days – Feb 20 – I went to Buy Buy Baby by myself to look for a diaper bag. I didn’t find one I wanted, so I later ordered one online. It would arrive after Ginny’s death. I wrote about the saga to return it in the post From Ginny To Chet. Spoiler: The return was unsuccessful, and both Chet and Addie ended up using that diaper bag. Later that night Daniel and I assembled the gliding rocker that his parents bought for Addie’s nursery. 

5 Days – Feb 21 – I had my 34 week prenatal appointment. My belly was measuring small so the midwife wheeled in an in-office ultrasound machine. She could tell that Ginny was head down and there was plenty of fluid, but she scheduled an official growth scan for Monday, Feb 25 to get a closer look. That night we had our church small group over. We asked them to pray that Ginny would grow well and that we’d have peace waiting for the ultrasound appointment. Our sweet friends gave us baby gifts. One couple who recently had a baby generously gave us all the things they found most useful. Another couple gave us an adorable onesie that says “little sprout” with an illustration of a green little sprout coming up. They also gave us a beautiful handmade crocheted blanket in shades of green. Both the onesie and the blanket are in Ginny’s keepsake box. 

4 Days – Feb 22 – I ate a deliberately large breakfast in hopes it’ll somehow help Addie grow. I remember watching the movie Roman Holiday while counting and rolling all the change we had accumulated from the past few years. Daniel and I had plans to go on a “change date” like we used to in college when we didn’t have much money. 

3 Days – Feb 23 – Daniel and I went on our “change date”. We went to the bank to cash in the coins and then got lunch, went to the art museum, and had a nice dinner. I remember it was a rainy but really fun day together. 

2 Days – Feb 24 – We went to part 2 of the childbirth class. I remember there was a new instructor because the original one couldn’t be there for some reason. This new instructor introduced herself. She was a regular doula and also a bereavement doula for couples who lose their babies. I had never heard of anything like that before, and I remember thinking that was so sad. We learned a lot about induction and epidurals and things I would need to know sooner than expected. 

1 Day – Feb 25 – The growth ultrasound was scheduled for 1pm. I had nothing planned for the morning, so I slept in and got ready slowly. I remember straightening my hair which I rarely ever did. I remember the sweater I wore. I remember talking to my mom on the way to the hospital. I took a picture of where I parked in the parking garage so I wouldn’t forget. I met Daniel in the lobby. We waited in the waiting room, and then our lives changed forever. You can read about all what happened next in Our Story and Labor and Delivery Story. 

As you can see from how we spent those last days before Ginny’s birth, we were very busy preparing for her. I was doing all I could to make sure she had everything she needed once she arrived; meanwhile, I had no idea that she didn’t have everything she needed to get to that point. She died sometime between Feb 21 and Feb 25, but I’m pretty sure I felt her move the morning of Feb 25. I think we were just barely too late to save her. There are a million things we could’ve done differently on those days. But if the outcome was going to be the same, I’m glad we spent that time parenting her by preparing and spending sweet time together. 

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

First Day of Kindergarten

This would have been Ginny’s first week of kindergarten. I miss her so much it hurts. In lieu of a first day of school picture, I want to share pictures of one of our most treasured items from her memory box, the mold of her hands. I’m forever grateful to the nurse who took molds and imprints of Ginny’s hands and feet. These hands should have grown and should be opening the door to elementary school. These hands should be coloring and learning how to write. These hands should be shaping playdoh. They should be giving high fives to new friends. I should be holding these hands and listening to how her first day of kindergarten went. Instead I hold this hard and motionless little casted sculpture, forever the size of a newborn’s fists. Still I admire every knuckle, fingernail, and chubby little finger. Still these are my precious child’s hands. It’s what I have.

For everyone missing a child who should be starting or going back to school, you are not alone. This time of year is hard.

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

Be-Still-and-Know 5 Year Anniversary!

Five years ago this month I felt that God was asking me to share my most vulnerable and personal journal entries online. Did I want to do it? No, but I knew I needed to. I expected to write for a month or two until I no longer felt called to share. I never anticipated that 5 years later I would still be writing and posting. I never anticipated that I would have written or been interviewed on more than 20 additional posts through other organizations. 

It is more than my story or Ginny’s story or our family’s story. This is me bearing witness to life and death and love and sorrow and hope and God. This is me painfully learning truths and unlearning lies and passing it all along for others to take or leave. Amazing things happen when we share our experiences – we feel less alone – we make others feel less alone – we broaden awareness – we reduce stigmas – we connect – we share life. I’m forever grateful for the connections I’ve made through Be-Still-and-Know, and I am excited to continue writing and sharing on this platform! Thanks for being here!

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

Happy 5th Birthday, Ginny!

Dear Ginny,

Happy 5th Birthday!! What a milestone! What a big girl – a whole hand! Daddy and I are so proud of you!

When I told your brother that your birthday was coming up, he got so excited. He couldn’t wait to go to your birthday party in heaven! I told him one day we would but we couldn’t go this year. He later drew the conclusion that we can’t drive to heaven… “so I guess we’ll have to walk,” he said. It feels like such a long walk to get to you. The Bible says that one day all that’s lost will be restored. Does that mean that one day we will get to experience your 5th birthday party? I don’t know, but it’s a nice idea.

Mostly I just wanted to hug you and kiss you and stare at you and look into your eyes. I want to brush your hair and watch you run and hear you laugh. I want to hear you sound out words as you begin to read. I want to see you dance with your daddy!

I so wish I could drop you off at preschool with your brother. You guys would run into the woods together. You’d push him in the big tree swing, and you would protect him. I wouldn’t worry so much with you two together.

I know you would love helping to take care of Addie. She’s just like a baby doll. We could play baby dolls together. She’d look at you admiringly just like she looks at Chet. And you two would be sisters the way that my sisters and I are.

What would’ve been! But that’s not how things are. I’m sad about that but not hopeless. I know you are fully free in heaven. My heart is full of love for you and for our whole family! Thank you for being our first born and big sister! We love you so much!

Love,

Mama

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

5 Years Ago – The Day of No Heartbeat

Death Day Lament

Why did you, Lord? Why did you answer my prayer and then take her away?! 

Why did you see to it that my arms were empty? 

Why did my sweet new love have to be painfully pulled to my heart’s limit, one end pinned in place far away so I get no relief from the wrench?

Why does time not help?

Where did she go? Five years and I’m still looking for her. 

You took her, and she left an empty womb, an empty room, an empty year, an empty 5 years.

Anxious parents searching for their missing child. Endlessly counting heads, 2 not 3. 

How could we let this happen? We can’t let it happen to the others. 

We aren’t crazy; we are desperate – she is gone. 

How could this happen? I trusted you to keep us safe! I trusted you to bless us! 

This feels unsafe and unblessed. I guess I didn’t read the fine print “blessed are those who mourn”. 

I am blessed on the mount. I’m the Jesus kind of blessed. 

That is what I asked for, but it’s more than I bargained for. This isn’t what I thought. 

Oh the weight and glory of the kingdom of heaven! – oh the weight and glory of my small sliver of it!

She’s it. She’s the golden and silver and diamond thread in my life’s tapestry. Brilliant and stunning! Only could be woven by sorrow. Only could be woven by your hand, Lord.

A beauty that could only come from You… and ashes. 

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

Happy 4th Birthday, Ginny! 

Dear Ginny, 

Happy Birthday, my girl! I love you more than ever, and I miss you more than ever! I think about you all the time. It’s fun to think about what you might be into as you turn 4 years old! Would you like pink and purple and glitter? Would you like animals? Music? Sports? Dolls? I imagine you chasing your brother and making cookies with me. I bet you’d tell Daddy everything. We didn’t know what cake you wanted so Daddy chose chocolate, Chet chose pink candles, and I picked out the sprinkles. I really wanted to design invitations for your birthday party so I did. I’m sad I didn’t send them out and there will be no party with friends. But we will still sing to you and have balloons! 

Daffodils have come up which means the long, gloomy couple months of anticipating your death day is almost over this year. On your birthday we will celebrate you, your life on earth and in heaven, and the coming spring! We will be as happy as we can be without you here to hug! I know you will be celebrating in heaven, and I am so excited to join you one day!

God has blessed us with you! I am amazed how He continues to use you to bless us and others. I know that will continue this next year. I hope you know how much we really really really love you! You are our special girl! I’m so proud to be your mama!

Happy 4th Birthday!

Love, Mommy, Daddy, and Chet

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

4 Years Ago: The Day of No Heartbeat

“As a pregnant woman about to give birth writhes and cries out in pain, so were we in your presence, Lord. We were with child, we writhed in labor, but we gave birth to wind. We have not brought salvation to the earth, and the people of the world have not come to life. But your dead will live, Lord; their bodies will rise —  let those who dwell in the dust wake up and shout for joy — your dew is like the dew of morning; the earth will give birth to her dead.” Isaiah 26:17-19

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

Giving Birth to Death

The first thing I said when Chet was born and placed on my chest was “He’s ALIVE!” I now know what it feels like to give birth to life. It feels miraculous! I’ve heard people say that during childbirth the veil between heaven and earth feels paper-thin. I have to agree. That’s true whether you have a live birth or a stillbirth. But somehow during stillbirth, paper-thin still feels far too wide. Because during stillbirth your baby is on the other side. 

When I was pregnant with Ginny, I was always rubbing my belly. I loved feeling her move and react to my touch. I was always trying to figure out what position she was in. We would talk to her while rubbing my belly to bond with her. I remember when I showered, I would rub my belly and be blown away with the knowledge that my baby girl was growing in there. The morning after we got the news that Ginny had died, I showered before heading to the hospital. As if by muscle memory, I started rubbing my belly. My hands dropped and the first rush of anger fell over me. My baby girl was not growing in there. I felt foolish for rubbing a belly with no life – only death. How could I possible give birth to death? How could I possibly endure the physical and emotional pain? How could I carry the burden of death?

The doctor who confirmed Ginny had died told me that delivering her body was not an emergency. He said that some people want to deliver right away, some people wait a few days, and some people wait up to 2 weeks for their body to go into labor naturally. I chose to wait one day to give time for family to arrive. That one day was excruciating, and I have no idea how anyone could wait 2 weeks, knowing they carried death. What the doctor didn’t mention and what didn’t occur to me until the next day was that the longer  you wait, the more signs of death are present on your child’s body when they are born. During labor my wonderful nurse had to explain this to us. I know it had to be so hard for her to say, and I know it was hard for us to hear. She explained that stillborn babies are born in a variety of conditions depending on how long it has been and the delivery. We should expect her lips to be dark as blood has settled in her head. We should expect her skin to be very fragile, peeling, and easy to tear. As tough as it was to hear, it helped me to hear her describe it. I had no idea what to expect. I asked her to clean Ginny’s body and wrap her in a blanket before handing her to me. It was important to me for Ginny’s body to not be covered in blood when I first saw her. I wanted her to be as pristine as possible; these would be the only visual memories I have of her body.  

The moment Ginny was born – the moment I gave birth to death, I felt relief and heart-wrenching silence and peace and sorrow and love. God was very present in that moment. When the nurse placed Ginny in my arms, she did have dark lips and delicate skin. But I didn’t see only death, I saw her life! I saw physical proof of all those wiggles and kicks. Here was the person I had intimately known for the past 8 months. My heart burst with so much love! It burst again as I saw Daniel hold her. We treated her body so so gently; I didn’t want anything to damage her and my memory of her beautiful self. I wanted her to look as true to who she was alive as possible. Sometimes I wonder if we should have spent more time with her body, but I know each hour we spent with her she would look less and less like herself. I’m happy I have the memories I have. I do wish we would’ve gotten pictures of that moment though. The pictures we do have are from a couple hours after we gave her back to the nurse. The pictures don’t quite match my memory of her. I still deeply treasure them. 

In His nearness during Ginny’s birth, God reminded me that that I did not have to carry the burden of death. Jesus has already carried that burden for me and for Ginny. And when I held her beautiful body in my arms, I was reminded that I did in fact give birth to life. Although her life was short on earth, she is alive in heaven. She’s just on the other side of that paper-thin veil. 

Aimee Jones Faith-Based Encouragement, Milestones & Anniversaries

Remembering Ginny’s 1st Birthday – Ash Wednesday

Ginny’s first heavenly birthday fell on Ash Wednesday in 2020. Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent, was not something I had grown up observing. I usually remembered it was Ash Wednesday when I noticed a few people at work with ashes on their forehead. 

Daniel and I took the day off for Ginny’s 1st birthday. We knew we wanted to honor and celebrate her, but the only thing we had planned was to sing “happy birthday” and eat cake. What were we going to do for the rest of the day? How were we going to get through the day? We heard that a church in the Lakewood neighborhood of Durham, NC was having open sanctuary that morning for anyone to drop-in to receive ashes and pray. Why not? 

We pulled up to the unfamiliar building. It was an old and slightly run down classic church with pillars and stained glass. It was clear the building had seen better days and this congregation was just the most recent of a long history of worshipers here. The tension between the beauty of the stained glass and the worn carpet felt just right for this moment. We walked in to some solemn music playing on speakers and powerful art and words projected on a screen. The only other person there was a woman sitting in a back pew by herself. 

Daniel and I made our way toward the front. We sat in a pew in silence. My heart prayed, but I’m not sure I had any words. That entire past year had been marked with death. The brokenness of the world we live in had never been clearer. And God never felt nearer. It felt like He handed us life and death and then sat us in a pew to look straight at it. We were entering the season of Lent – when we take our grief, our brokenness, our sin, our pain, and we hold it, reflect, repent, and hand it all over to Christ on Good Friday. We could then look toward Easter. This season would not be forever.

After a while, Daniel and I went to the front alter. The woman from the back walked up to meet us. She dipped her finger in ashes and marked each of our heads. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” We will remember.