If you're the kind of blog reader who likes a little background with your blog posts, then read the prevous entry for some context. If not, read on... And thanks for your sweet comments - even those that were sent to me personally and did not show up in the Official Comment Count- despite the fact that you all know I love to see that total rise. It's just a heck of a lot easier to write when you know someone will read it. On the other hand, what follows is a journal entry I never thought anyone would read. Journals are therapeutic - and as I age and the details of my past cloud over, I'm grateful for reminders of all my triumphs and my sorrows.
God is good. He knows we are but dust. I trust Him fully to cause all things to work together for good.
June 19, 1993
Yesterday our pre-born baby boy died. It was an incredible day I will never forget. After a week of bed rest, bleeding, and taking multiple herbs - I started labor at 10:30pm Thursday night. The contractions were strong and very painful. By early morning I was weak and scared and in enormous pain. (I realized later that it's harder to give birth to a very small baby who can't 'help' with the passage down the birth canal. The mom has to do all the work herself.)
Bo and I went back and forth in our decision about whether to go to the hospital. I really wanted to be at home, like with Mary-Faith's birth almost a year ago. It seemed even less appealing to go to a hospital since we both knew our baby couldn't live at only 15 weeks from conception.
Bo called Cindy, our midwife, and she and Stephanie got here about 6:30 am. The next half hour was really bad - but then I had an amazing 45 minutes of total peace and rest in my bed. Bo got the other children up and told them what was going on. One by one they ventured to my bedside to hug me and reassure me - - - or were they coming to me for reassurance?
Somewhere around 7:30 our little baby was delivered. Cindy held him in the palm of her hand and we (Bo, the midwives, and I) just stared awestruck! Little eyes and a red mouth - tiny hands, arms, and legs - a little red spot where the heart was once beating. (It's hard to believe I saw that heart beating on a sonogram just 4 weeks ago.) And in answer to my prayer during the long hours of bed rest, we all saw that little hint that this baby was another son. The children that wanted to were able to see their brother, experiencing a pro-life tutorial that would prayerfully stay with them the rest of their lives.
Yesterday I was relieved that the waiting and the pain were over. All the calls to make to relatives and concerned friends; Re-telling the story so many times kept me busy and my mind distracted.
Today I slept long into the morning, while Bo got the children fed and started everyone on neglected chores. A week with Mom in bed takes its toll on a household.
I'm sure my body needed the rest. It has worked hard delivering a baby.
It really began to sink in today - I've lost a child. A precious baby boy. I didn't get to know him - but I can tell, by looking at Shepherd and Hunter, a little bit of what he would've been like - and I love him intensely.
Parker Jones Pittman (P.J.), I'll see you in heaven, sweetheart.
1 Cor. 13:12,13