He’s here! We did it! Chester Thomas Jones was born on July 21 at 9:18pm. He was 8lbs 10oz and 21in long. He is perfectly healthy. He is perfectly perfect!
I can’t even begin to describe the amount of joy, gratitude, and relief when I first heard his cries and every moment since. Everyday I hold him, look at him, and am just overcome with love and joy beyond what I expected. The first two weeks I would weep in praise to God.
Chet doesn’t replace Ginny, but Chet does show me there is redemption in life. This is how it is meant to be. Life, not death! It is so beautiful! Knowing this – knowing what we are missing with Ginny makes her death all the more tragic. It makes me love her and miss her more. Her brother looks just like her. At night I look down at him in the dim light and can see his sister’s face. My heart fills with love for them both. Somehow her life makes me appreciate him more, and at the same time his life makes me appreciate her more.
There have been a couple very sweet moments that seemed to connect Chet and Ginny. During Chet’s delivery I wore a necklace that reminds me of Ginny. It is the necklace my parents got me a few days after she died. It has a little flower bud on it; my mom said it represents Ginny and hope for the future. In the first minute after Chet was born and placed on my chest, his little hand grasped my necklace. That moment was such a contrast to Ginny’s silent birth, and as he held onto my necklace I realized what a full circle moment it was.
Another sweet connection was waiting for us when we got home from the hospital. On Ginny’s birthday back in February, a wonderful friend sent me a sunflower growing kit. It came with different varieties of sunflower seeds. During quarantine Daniel and I planted them in pots on our back porch. They bloomed the day we got home from the hospital. It was Ginny welcoming Chet home!
Even in the midst of the exhausting newborn period, I am so so so grateful that Chet is here and that pregnancy is over. Pregnancy after loss is extremely hard, and I never quite believed we would bring home a living baby until we did. When he is crying at night and Daniel and I struggle to get him to sleep, we just look at each other and smile. He is actually here! He is so beautiful! As exhausting as it is to have a newborn, it is far more exhausting not to have one. I’m grateful to Ginny. Because of her, we cherish life more and take nothing for granted.
I’ve entered the third trimester. I’m glad we are that much closer! I’m still a couple months away from how far along I was when we lost Ginny, but that date is looming in front of me. How can I face that time? It feels so overwhelming to think of that week, of that day, of every day after. How can I be sure that it won’t happen again? How can I bear the weight of life or death at that time? It seems like it will be too much to handle.
I ask God how will I be able to handle it. He reminds me again of the comfort I experienced by his presence on the day Ginny was stillborn. He was with us. That’s not the answer I want to hear. I want assurances! I want promises of life! I don’t want to wait! I want to know now that I will for sure bring Chet home! Don’t I deserve to know after last time? Haven’t I earned that? Haven’t I been patient for long enough?!
God hasn’t yet given me the grace for two months from now; he has only given me the grace for today. I have the grace and ability to make it through today. That’s all I need…until tomorrow.
“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” Matthew 6:34
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” 2 Corinthians 12:9
One thing I’ve learned about God’s character through our loss is his patience. His timing is not our timing. In the scale of an eternal timeline, our lives are a brief moment. He doesn’t do things as fast as we’d like, but conversely he gives us all the time we need. Sometimes we will take months or years to listen to what he’s telling us, and yet he waits for us. When I couldn’t even form a prayer, he sat with me. He still sits with me in my impatience.
“But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.” 2 Peter 2:8-9
I’m sure Mary and Martha experienced much impatience when waiting for Jesus after they sent word that their brother Lazarus was sick. Lazarus got sicker. Lazarus died. It wasn’t until 4 days later that Jesus arrived. They must’ve thought, “Doesn’t Jesus love Lazarus? How could he let him die? Why wouldn’t he come right away?!” They had faith that Jesus could heal Lazarus, but Jesus was taking too long. But then Jesus came, wept with the sisters, and then raised Lazarus from the dead (John 11:1-44). His timing isn’t our timing, but his is the right timing.
Grace for today is all we have. I pray that the Holy Spirit brings me the patience to make that enough for me.
“But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” Romans 8:25
“Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.” Romans 12:12
Every second-time mother I know has cried about having another baby. They ask, “How could I ever love another child as much as I love my first? What if I’m not able to continue to give my first child the attention they deserve?”
It wasn’t until I was pregnant that I realized that all of these questions and concerns also applied to me even though my first child had died.
Often when I’m crying, I assume it is because of my grief and the difficulties of pregnancy after loss, but I need to realize that sometimes I’m crying because all second-time mothers cry when going through the transition of anticipating another baby. All second-time mothers need to make room in their lives, houses, and hearts for a new baby. They have to share the space. The same is true for a loss mom.
How could I ever love another child as much as I love Ginny?
What if I’m not able to mourn Ginny the way she deserves?
Like all moms, I need to make the space and find a new routine.
If you’ve lost a loved one (even just broken up with a boyfriend or girlfriend) you realize just how much space a missing person takes up in a home. Everything reminds you of them. The spaces where they were are filled with their things. Even though we took down the nursery less than a week after Ginny was stillborn, our “guest room” was filled with her garden decor. The closet had a plastic wrapped stroller in one corner and a boxed crib mattress in the other. The shelves were full of a vacuum sealed breastfeeding pillow and baby lounger. The racks were empty, but every time I looked at them, I saw all her little pink and white outfits hanging there on miniature hangers.
Even in our master bedroom, there is a basket of homemade blankets, artfully crafted to comfort us in our grief. Under our bed is the disassembled crib and the priceless memory box we got from the hospital. The memory box is too sacred to pull out often, but we know it’s there. Our desk has a collage of ultrasound pictures. The hall has framed quotes to encourage us, a vase of sunflowers, a small “hope” placard, all reminding us of Ginny. She’s everywhere, and that’s how we like it. It makes us happy and fills us with love.
So how do we make room in a house that is already full? We started this weekend. I wrapped up and packed up the “You Grow Girl” pots, I took down the wooden wall art with vegetables, we folded up the floral quilt. Daniel hung shark and whale pictures. We got a blue striped bedspread. We hung cute fish-tail wave hooks. We ordered beach photos to fill the gallery wall frames. We washed and neatly hung the little blue and gray onesies on miniature hangers in the exact spot where Ginny’s clothes were.
We did it. Piece by piece the transformation is happening. It is bitter sweet. It is sad that it’s not Ginny’s room anymore. But we are happy to be decorating Chet’s room. More than symbolizing hope of bringing Chet home, redecorating the nursery is a way to parent Chet now. It allows us to do something to care for him and show our love for him. It’s a way to bond with him.
I don’t regret having snipped a single tag off of Ginny’s clothes. I don’t regret having the nursery complete before she died. It’s some of the best memories of parenting her while she was with us. I knew we needed to do the same with Chet, no matter the outcome. Although I will say that while hanging the cute little boy clothes and seeing the beachy blues around the room from the glider, I do imagine bringing him home and watching him grow.
My heart is making room for Chet. I can love both Ginny and Chet, just as all mothers can love all their children. And just as all mothers must find new routines and split their time, I will make time to care for Chet and mourn for Ginny. And just as all siblings grow up together, Chet will grow up with Ginny. He will see the vase of sunflowers. He will see the ultrasound collage and make a fort out of knitted grief blankets. One day he will even look through the precious memory box and see a picture of his sister’s face and touch the molds of her hands and feet. He will know he has a big sister who loves him in heaven. He will know there is more than enough love to go around.
I couldn’t have made it through this past year without the love and support of family and friends and lots of prayer. I also found a lot of help and comfort from several other resources. I wanted to share those here. I cannot explain how valuable these books, podcasts, and songs have been to me. When I am feeling despair, they point me back to hope and love. I’ve read a lot over the past year, but these were the resources that stuck out to me. I really hope others may also find support through them. I’ve bolded the ones that were particularly impactful.
Books:
Loved Baby by Sarah Phipott, PhD*
Anchored by Erin Cushman*
A Grief Observed by CS Lewis*+
It’s OK to not be OK by Megan Devin+
Inheritance of Tears by Jessalyn Hutto*
7 Lessons from Heaven by Mary Neal MD*+
Once More We Saw Stars: A Memoir by Jayson Greene
Choosing to SEE by Mary Beth Chapman*
The Unspeakable Loss: How do you live after a child dies? by NIsha Zenoff, PhD
*Faith-based; +General grief, not only baby/child loss
There are so many amazing resources out there, and these are just a few that I stumbled upon at my local library or googling around. If you have some other helpful resources, please share them in the comments. 🙂
If you’ve lost a baby like I have, it may feel particularly hard to celebrate a holiday all about a young mother giving birth to a perfect baby. It seems there are triggers all around.
I remind myself that the reason we celebrate the birth of Jesus is because he was born to die. He was born and lived a sinless life only to suffer the punishment of sin in our place. Because of Jesus’s birth and death, God knows what it’s like to lose a child. Because of Jesus’s birth, death, and resurrection, our children experience life and love in heaven. Because of Jesus’s birth, death, and resurrection we will be reunited one day. That’s something to celebrate!
You may still not feel like celebrating this year, and that’s ok. There are more years to come.
When we started trying to have a baby, I told Daniel and myself not to get our hopes up. It usually takes a few months to get pregnant and often longer than that. That first month of trying I took a pregnancy test without telling Daniel. Before the results were in, I sat on the couch and asked Daniel to check the test in 3 minutes. He was caught off guard. I told him I didn’t think I was pregnant, but I wanted to take the test just in case. After 3 minutes, he cautiously walked to the bathroom. He was silent. I called out, “Well what does it say?!” He showed me the test with wide eyes. It was positive! We hugged and teared up! It was a very happy and exciting but scary moment. We knew there was no going back. We were both very surprised and blessed at how quickly it happened. That was July 26, 2018.
Our families were shocked and ecstatic when we told them the news over FaceTime. No one expected us to have children. They were all thrilled! The due date was April 3, 2019. A spring baby! I always loved spring. I loved that it represented new life!
Because work was so stressful, I had a lot of anxiety in the first trimester. Daniel encouraged me to quit my job. I was planning on being a stay-at-home mom anyway. There was no point in enduring that stress. I quit my job at the 12 week mark. It was a relief. For the rest of 2018 I was busy finding a new house and preparing for the holidays. Daniel’s parents were able to come for the anatomy scan on November 20 when they were in town for Thanksgiving. We found out we were having a little girl! We were all so happy! We named her Virginia Hope Jones after Daniel’s great grandmother, a very special person in our family. We would call her Ginny.
Without fail we excitedly attended every prenatal appointment. Everything looked perfect and went smoothly. She always had a strong heartbeat and was growing each week. Because I was low-risk and everything looked good, there was no third-trimester ultrasound planned. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to see her again before she was born, but I was happy everything was going well.
We moved into our new house in Cary, NC in January, and I started nesting in our new place. We prepared the nursery with a garden theme. My mom came to help decorate. We had sweet sunflowers lining her crib, a cute green rug that looked like grass, and a sign in the shape of birdhouses that said “ginny” above her crib. It was perfect.
Daniel and I attended classes on breastfeeding and child birth. Daniel even went to “Daddy Bootcamp.” I spent days trying to prepare as much as I could. I watched video after video of how to take care of newborns, birth vlogs, baby item essentials. We were nearly ready. We had all the clothes and supplies we needed. I had packed the hospital bag. All we had to do was wait. I loved spending time feeling and watching my belly. I loved to feel her hiccup and move. She would move a lot anytime there was a loud noise or music. I was obsessed with trying to figure out what position she was in. Daniel would laugh at me as I guessed everyday, “I think she is head down now…or maybe she is sideways!” I’d put his hand on my belly anytime I’d feel her move. He was so excited to hold her. Only a little over a month left!
On Thursday February 21 we had our normal prenatal appointment. We heard her heart beating at a strong 147 bpm. The midwife brought out a small ultrasound machine to determine her position. She was head down! That was a relief to me. The midwife measured my belly. I was supposed to be 34 cm but was 31 cm. She ordered a growth scan for Monday to ensure Ginny was growing properly. She said that most likely everything is fine and she is growing, but we want to just make sure since my belly was small. This made me a little nervous but also excited. I was glad we would get another chance to see her before she was born.
I looked forward to the ultrasound on Monday afternoon. I tried not to get my hopes up that we would get a good face picture. I knew she was pretty squished in there so it might be hard to get one. I was so eager to see her.
Daniel met me at the hospital. As we waited in the waiting room he asked if I was nervous, and I said, “yes a little but mostly excited.” I thought the worst case scenario would be that Ginny was small and that they would decide to take her early and she would spend time in the NICU. I thought that wasn’t likely, but I still tried to prepare for what I thought was the worst possible outcome.
I was wrong. That wasn’t the worst possible outcome. What truly happened was worse than I could’ve imagined.
The ultrasound technician moved fast. Instead of starting with the heartbeat as usual, she seemed to be quickly and hap hazardously taking measurements. This was so unlike the previous ultrasounds we had. I asked to see the heartbeat and she abruptly said that she was measuring some things now. She was moving so quickly. I couldn’t make sense of what she was doing. It made me very nervous. I finally asked again, “Can I please see her heartbeat?!” She said she was having trouble finding it. I started breathing really heavy, hyperventilating. She rubbed my arm and said to breathe. She went to get the doctor.
Daniel and I started praying. I prayed harder than I’ve ever prayed before. We BEGGED God for a miracle. We pleaded and pleaded that when the doctor comes there will be a heartbeat. We prayed that Ginny would be born alive and grow up. We held hands and prayed. My heart was beating so hard. Daniel said he could see it through my sweater.
The doctor came in with the technician. She put the wand to my belly again…nothing. The doctor said, “I’m so sorry. I have to give you the worst news.” Everything fell still. I became calm. Daniel was crying behind me. I sat up and started asking questions, “Is there anyway to know what happened? What are the next steps?” I realized it was weird that I was so calm. I told the doctor, “I don’t know why I’m not crying.” He said I was probably in shock. I know the Holy Spirit was filling me with peace to get through that moment.
We were sent home to wait for instruction from my doctors. That was the longest car ride home followed my the longest evening ever. Time seemed to creep by. Daniel and I hugged and cried on the couch. I read the dreaded baby loss chapter of my “What to Expect” book. The doctors called to schedule the induction. I was to be induced at 9am tomorrow morning. I had no idea how I could possibly bear going through labor and delivery with no living baby as a reward! Our young adult pastor visited us and prayed with us. Our mothers decided to fly in, and I’m so grateful they did. We waited until around 2:30am for our moms’ flight to arrive. We picked them up from the airport in quiet tears. I was so tired.
The next morning we prayed together before leaving. I felt peace. It was incredible how quickly and smoothly everything went. We all felt the presence of God. The doctors and nurses were wonderful, caring, and sympathetic. Less than 12 hours after arriving at the hospital, I gave birth to Ginny’s body. It was Tuesday, February 26, 2019 at 8:47 pm. She was 3 lbs 5 oz and 16 inches long. Daniel was amazing. He was there for me in exactly the right ways. I couldn’t have done it without him. He held my hand through the whole thing. Our moms were just the support we needed. We all got to hold and kiss Ginny’s body. She was beautiful and had dark curly hair like her daddy. A day I was expecting to be filled with pain and fear was actually filled with love and healing.
Our moms and my sister spent the week taking care of us. They shopped, cooked, and cleaned for us. We received 9 flower deliveries and several care packages. Our friends covered us in love and prayers. We spent the week watching Planet Earth, crying, and coloring. Everything seemed in a bit of a haze. We went out to Target and the botanical garden. They were not effective distractions but gave us something to do. The day before our moms left, we took down the nursery. I used a knife to pry the letters off of the cute birdhouse sign – maybe someone could use to the sign for something else. We took down each baby girl outfit from the hangers one by one. This one goes to a friend… this one to be donated…this one save for a keepsake. My future dismantled piece by piece. Maybe something could be salvaged, maybe not.
Our family left. Daniel and I were alone in silence again. We got through day after day. The pain came like waves pounding against us. We still felt God with us though. It is such a bizarre feeling to have so much pain yet be full of peace and love. Grief is like that… it isn’t simple. It is complex and deep and full. It is not all bad. It is love and ache and sorrow and happiness. At first I wanted to skip it and fast-forward through time. After a while I wanted to nurture the grief; I wanted to saver it. I will always carry my grief, and I will always carry Ginny.
The doctors haven’t been able to determine definitively what caused Ginny’s death. They say things like, “Sometimes things like this just happen and no one knows why.” We had many tests done on me, Ginny’s body, and the placenta. Everything came back healthy, but she was small for her gestational age. We suspect that it might have been the umbilical cord tight around her neck or perhaps a blood clot in the cord. We may never know for sure.
This loss has given me a new perspective on life. I see myself in terms of eternity now. I look forward to the day I will be with Ginny in heaven. Death doesn’t scare me as much as it used to. At the same time, life is more precious. I want to enjoy and celebrate every moment because it is not guaranteed. I love deeper and am so extremely grateful for Daniel and our family and friends.
I have hope for what is to come although it is unclear to me now. I know I don’t want to go back to my old life of stressful work that now seems meaningless to me. I know I want to help others going through difficult times. I don’t know what that looks like, but I think God will make my paths clear when I am ready. Now I am focused on healing and grieving.
This space was created to share my journey as a grieving mother. My daughter Virginia Hope Jones was born still on February 26, 2019. We call her Ginny. My husband Daniel and I are full of love for her and miss her with all our hearts. We do live in hope that she is happy in the arms of Jesus and we will see her again. For me, one of the most helpful grieving outlets has been writing. I decided to post some of these writings for others to see. I’ve grown so much in love, compassion, and faith through our loss. I hope to share some of what I’m experiencing and learning.
Be-Still-and-Know 