It is hard to believe that my daughter would be turning five this year if she had been born alive. How did I survive five whole years with this ache inside my chest? I wonder who she would be today. Would she be reading super early like her brothers or would she show no interest in letters like her sister? Would she be doing gymnastics like I was at five? Would she have curly hair like Nora? Would Lucy be stubborn and independent like I was as a kid? Or would she be a rule follower like her Daddy? Would she be a tomboy or would she prefer Barbies? I wonder what her voice sounds like. I wonder who her little friends would be. Oh I miss my baby so much.
I’ve been telling Nora about her big sister lately and she accepts it all as completely normal, like everyone has a sister in heaven. The other day I got my Lucy box down and let Nora look through it. She loved seeing her sister’s pillow, dress, hat, blanket, pictures and even the many cards we have saved from our friends and family.
I know that right now Nora doesn’t really understand what it means to lose a sister, but one day when she is older she will grieve the loss of that special relationship. There is still so much heartache to come.
Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been reading back in my journal from the days leading up to Lucy’s death. I can tell from the buoyancy of my writing that I was a different person then. Cheerful and optimistic. Sure that God would save her if I had enough faith. Then at the end of my 17th week of pregnancy (or possibly 18th week since they changed her due date a couple times) I wrote:
My baby might die tomorrow. She has to have an intrauterine blood transfusion at 17 weeks 6 days. I sobbed in the shower tonight crying out to God for her life. “I want to keep her! I want to keep her!” I cried over and over again. God said, “Whatever happens, you have her for eternity. You have her for eternity. Trust me.” And these thoughts have calmed my spirit and given me peace:
*I have her for eternity.
*I will give her life for God’s glory if He asks.
*She is HIS anyway.
*Abraham gave his son to God. God gave His Son for us. I will hold my daughter’s life with an open hand.
*My life’s purpose is to glorify God, not to keep my daughter.
*He will sustain me.
*I will be strong and courageous.
I remember how desperately I cried out to God that night, begging Him to let me keep Lucy. I think I knew then that God was not going to save her. Even though she survived the IUT the following day, she died eight days later while we watched on ultrasound. But that night when I begged for her life I sensed God asking me to place her in his arms. I look at those truths I wrote down five years ago and they give me courage to continue trusting God with this great loss. They give me courage to face the future without her. All of the days to come, without my sweet girl. I can do this, no matter how much I hate it. If I could be brave enough then to give my girl back to God, I can be brave today too. Because the truth is, it still takes an incredible amount of might to live each day without my child. It takes courage and grit and forgiveness and a whole lot of energy.
Three days before Lucy died I wrote this quote down by Charles Spurgeon:
Don’t you know that day dawns after night, showers displace drought, and spring and summer follow winter? Then, have hope! Hope forever, for God will not fail you.
Hope forever. As the days and the weeks and the years pass, more and more light slowly emerges. The dawn after our night. Today I can feel joy and contentment and I can sing again and I laugh freely most of the time. I go days and sometimes weeks without crying. None of these things seemed possible five years ago when I watched my baby’s heart stop and my world splintered. But God has been true to His word. When He promised me five years ago on that rainy, dreary day in that horrible hospital room, “I WILL REDEEM IT” He was telling the truth. He has been persistent in His quest to redeem the many things that died on February 8th, 2013 along with Lucy. And one day when I arrive in heaven, He will redeem the loss of my daughter and all of the missed moments with her here on earth. Yes, I will hope forever, for God will not fail me.
Three days after Lucy died when I was at one of the lowest points of my life I wrote this simple journal entry:
I TRUST HIM.
I trust you, Lord. Show me your goodness. Show me your hope. Show me what you are going to do with this sacrifice of pain and loss. Make her little life worth something….something so beautiful.
I TRUST YOU.
And now I get to show you the goodness and the hope, the beautiful thing God is doing with Lucy’s life. Because of my experience with her and because of this blog, I get to connect with parents from all over the world who are dealing with a sensitized pregnancy and help them advocate for the right care. You know, I invest in each one of my children’s lives daily; Liam, Asher, Nora and Callum. I don’t get to invest in Lucy’s life, so instead, I invest the time I would be spending with Lucy in these babies and their parents. My Facebook feed is full of pregnant bellies and ultrasound updates and newborn babies and pregnancy announcements…all the things that used to trigger my PTSD and send me spiraling. Now they are some of my greatest joys in life. Here are some of the beautiful babies who were impacted by Lucy and me over the past year. (There were so many babies that I couldn’t include each one’s story so I just included a couple and then the names and pictures of the rest of them.)
“My Kell baby Nancy, nearly 6 months old. She wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for your blog and the invaluable help of the Facebook group. The knowledge I gained from you helped me to ensure she had the best care, if I hadn’t fought so hard for more regular MCA scans she would have been so anaemic we would’ve lost her. I’m eternally grateful. Thinking of you and your precious Lucy xxx ❤️”
Maxwell Raymond “Bay”
Freddy and Max (and baby on the way)
Callum Joseph Thomas
And for the babies who are not pictured here, but who are just as important as the ones who survived, you are greatly missed and deeply loved. The ones who don’t come home from the hospital in their mamas’ arms, like Nancy Stella and Freya Louise and Connor James and all of the precious babies who were lost, these babies often have a greater impact on my life than the ones who lived. I feel great comfort knowing Lucy has such amazing little friends in heaven with her.
Happy birthday in heaven, Lucy Dair. I ache for you every day. I see all the empty spaces where you should be. Five years closer to having you forever. I love you and I’m so proud to be your mommy.