The year was 1997. It was a beautiful, cloudless Fall day, much like today. It was Friday, October 3. David was in seventh grade, Elise in fourth, Bill was working at Ingalls and I was helping out in our friend's office. The phone rang at the office and it was Tim. Gina was in labor! I was so thrilled to get that call. When their oldest son was born, just 18 months earlier, it seemed as if everything moved too quickly. Gina had been ordered on bed rest as she patiently waited the arrival of her firstborn son, when suddenly she had a seizure and was whisked away by ambulance to the hospital. Gina was not awake for the delivery, and Tim was not allowed into the delivery room. The birth of a healthy son was a joyous ending for both of them, but the process was disappointing. So here they were again, ready to deliver their second son. And this time things were moving along normally. I jumped every time the office phone rang, convinced that it would be Tim ready to share some exciting news! In no time it was three o'clock...time for me to leave the office and pick up the kids from school. I found it odd, almost unbearable, that I still hadn't received any news.
Then, out of nowhere, the phone pierced the silence of our home. Elise ran to the phone and picked up on one phone, while I picked up at the same time on our second phone. I heard Laura on the other end telling Elise to get me and then she was told by Laura that she had to hang up the phone. I was puzzled. Why was she calling? Where was Tim? And why was she so emphatic that her little sister had to hang up the phone? As soon as Laura heard my voice, she began to weep. "Mom, the baby didn't make it and Gina is in surgery!"
Grief and disbelief overpowered me. Laura spent most of the day with Tim and Gina. Laura, our daughter, was also pregnant and together Gina and Laura shared not only the anticipation of the birth of their second sons, but they also shared the same doctor, the same hospital and almost the same due date. So it was natural that Laura was with Gina that day, coaching her through early labor and chatting away once the epidural kicked in. Gina pushed for a long time but made little, if any, progress. The doctor felt he had waited long enough and in the interest of mother and baby, made plans to do a C-section. So, as Tim suited up for his stint in the delivery room, Gina was wheeled down the hall.
And then things changed in an instant. A loud beep went off on the monitor and all nurses went into high gear, frantically running down the hall in an attempt to get into delivery as soon as possible. Tim was not permitted inside. Gina's uterus had ruptured and she was hemorrhaging. The baby was delivered but never took a breath. A team of doctors worked desperately in an attempt to revive him, but Aaron never responded. In that brief second, his little soul went directly to the arms of his waiting Savior.
Gina had radical surgery. The doctors performed a complete hysterectomy, and within those hours, Tim and Gina lost not only a son but also the hope of having any more biological children. Gina's condition was grave and she was closely monitored for signs of more hemorrhaging. If that happened, little could be done to save her.
Bill and I and the children made the seventy-five mile trip in record time. As we waited for news about Gina, I asked one of the nurses where Aaron was and if I could see him. She led me into a quiet little room and left me alone. It was surreal. I held that lifeless little boy, in my arms, talking to God and talking to Aaron. Through my tears, I tried to memorize every inch of that beautiful baby boy. I didn't know if Gina would ever be able to see him, so I wanted to be able to describe his skin, his fingers, his nose, his hair. He was BEAUTIFUL! The nurse came in and together we bathed the baby and she asked if the parents had brought in any clothes or diapers. I went into the birthing room. There, in the corner, was the diaper bag Gina prepared for Aaron. Inside I found the little "going home" outfit and some newborn diapers. Before we dressed him, she took Aaron's footprints. Then we lovingly dressed him, combed his hair, and the nurse took photos, just like they do for all newborns. I didn't want to leave that room...there was something sacred about being in that place. And I knew that once I left that room, reality would set in, and I just didn't know if I was ready to face that yet.
Gina went to ICU and the doctor met with all of us and explained, as best he could, what had happened. And then the staff asked what we wanted to do with the body. The body? I sank. I had no idea how to respond, so they told me what options we had. Tim was with Gina, the other grandparents had left for the night, and I tried to figure out what to do. I called several funeral homes, consulted with Gina's mother, and made the arrangements.
I could write so much more, but this is what happened over the next few days:
* I asked if there was any way Gina could see Aaron before he was taken to the funeral home. The nurses brought her the baby and she, too, was able to hold her son.
* We held a funeral service in the hospital on Tuesday, October 7. It was our son David's 13th birthday.
* Gina was able to be in a wheelchair for the service, but could not attend the burial.
* Tim wrote a beautiful letter to his son, a letter full of hope and the joy they would all have when they were reunited in heaven.
* At the end of a long, sad day, Tim still insisted in stopping at a toy store so he could buy his little brother David a birthday present.
This story has many happy endings, but one of the best was that Laura was admitted to the same hospital, same floor, same doctor on October 4. She gave birth to Andrew on Sunday, October 5. We could feel all the nurses whisper about our family as we walked the halls. They seemed to say, "There's that family that lost a baby on Friday, and welcomed another on Sunday." Sunday! The first day of the week, the day that Jesus conquered death. Our family felt His resurrection power that weekend.
And I was able to see Andrew be born! I'm certain that was NOT Jeff and Laura's intent, but I think Jeff said something like, "After all she's been through, I don't think we would have been able to drag her out of that room!"
Laura and Gina share more than the memories of that weekend so long ago. They also share birthdays very close together in November. So that November in 1997, I bought both of them the same necklace. It was a gold oval opal pendant, surrounded by rubies. The opal is the birthstone of October, a small reminder of our special October boys. Although the citrine is the actual birthstone, rubies can also be used as the birthstone for November, the birth month of both mothers.
Some months later I wrote this poem to Aaron:
In the silence of this room, it is you that I hold.
Your small fingers I trace, trying to memorize each line,
for when I am old
I want to be able to close my eyes and still see you, my sweet child.
Tears gently fall from my face as I slowly, ever so slowly, realize
That this is the first and last time I will ever feel
Your cheek next to mine.
Breathe! Please breathe! Oh, to hear a gasp, a cry, a sound!
But you remain still, quiet, motionless in my arms.
And so I continue to rock, and talk, and sing to you,
Trying to fit a lifetime of memories into mere minutes.
As I inhale my limited time with you, I question where you are.
Where has that force of life gone that was here only moments ago?
Aaron, why can't you kick? Why won't you cry?
Why can't you open your eyes...for just a second?
And then MY eyes are opened.
You ARE alive, aren't you!
What I am caressing is not really you.
Your soul - the part of you that makes you YOU
Is alive!
My sweet child, your eyes see so much better than mine.
And I long to catch just a glimpse, just a glance of what your eyes can see!
Love,
Grandma
