My rear end up on the couch and my shoulders on the floor below I groaned as I tried to get up safely. Spinning babies was not exactly comfortable as I had reached 39 weeks in my third pregnancy, but I was determined, scared?, to get my breech baby head down. I had two young boys who still needed me to lift them and break up fights sometimes and there was no way I was going to let this pregnancy end in a C-section. We had moved during the pandemic, far away from family, and making friends was difficult. Where would my support be if I needed help after surgery? I had already scrubbed floors that day, another way Dr. Google had told me I could flip a baby, and I was exhausted.
I felt a rather large movement inside of me upon standing. Good, it worked. Now stay there, baby. I can’t wait to meet you.
I fell asleep while getting my boys to bed. When I went to my own bed I realized I hadn’t felt Baby move. Thinking that’s because I’d been sleeping and she must have been exhausted from flipping over, I ate a cookie and went back to bed, thinking I’d stay awake until I felt her move again.
The next thing I knew my husband was telling me goodbye before going to work. I freaked out, realizing I still hadn’t felt baby move. I asked my husband to put his ear on my abdomen and listen for a heartbeat. Obviously, that didn’t work. He left to prepare things for a sub (he’s a teacher). I called my doctor. No answer. I ate another cookie and played some music right next to my belly, hoping to wake her up. My husband returned. I called the babysitter. We left for the hospital.
I stared at the ultrasound screen as my doctor did a thorough examination of my baby. My first daughter, Lydia. The fact that she was head down didn’t exactly feel like great news anymore. I held my breath, knowing what the doctor was about to say, “I can’t find a heartbeat.”
The triage staff gave my husband and I a moment to grieve, and then I was induced. My husband called our pastor who came and asked what had happened. I replied, “Well she was breech and I didn’t want a C-section so I did some things to make her flip over and she did and now she’s gone but she was just doing what I wanted her to do!” He and my husband immediately tried to convince me it was not my fault. I pretended to believe them, as it was the only way to get through the moment.
No one can say for sure what caused Lydia’s demise, but when she was delivered everyone could see the true knot in the umbilical cord. My compassionate nurse told me it had probably been there a long time.
Turns out we had more support than I thought. We held a funeral for Lydia and many friends and family members made it a priority to be there for us. There was a meal train. People made sure my kids still had attention and also let me grieve in private. Still, I felt I was surrounded by a fog of grief.
A month later my husband had to go away a couple nights for outdoor ed. The dear, sweet, parents of his students made sure that I and my children could go with him. I decided that his class could leave in the morning and I would join them after my oldest finished his morning preschool that day.
At home, I got our things ready to leave with only my toddler son at home. In a rare moment, he occupied himself elsewhere while I used the restroom by myself. I was alone.
You’re worthless.
During the 40 minute drive to camp I pondered those words. Technically, God had made the universe and didn’t need my help with anything so those words were true, right? I’d sure thought I was somebody, trying to make things turn out right for my kids, but I’d ended up killing my own daughter! You’re right. That must be true. I am worthless.
“All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one.” Romans 3:12
I spent the trip and the next couple of weeks burdened with those thoughts.
At my postpartum visit they had me fill out a Postpartum depression questionnaire. I thought overall I was pretty “good”. Except when it mentioned feelings of worthlessness. I definitely had to check that box.
I ended up seeing a Christian counselor. She helped me process many things, including the fact that I was pregnant again. I knew Lydia was in heaven. She had heard the word of God in church every week and every night when my husband and I would read the Bible together.
“So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.” Romans 10:17
I wasn’t sure about myself. I was pretty mad at God. Was he punishing me? Was he just using me to punish someone else? I thought through the weeks leading up to Lydia’s death. I may have been overwhelmed, but there was no part of me that wanted her dead. I had sung to her. I knew she was the most lively baby. She was the only one I’d carried who made me crave guacamole and Asian food. She did a flip when I watched her dad cross the finish line of a long race. She did a lot of flips ….
If God was good couldn’t he have prevented her death? Did he even care? If heaven is getting to spend eternity with Him then do I even want to go? Even in my obstinance I was scared of my own thoughts, but one thing I did know.
I knew Jesus loved me. He paid for the sins of the entire world on the cross. A death he didn’t deserve. All because of his love for us and obedience to the Father. I sure am thankful for that, and in response I love Jesus.
And really, you can’t separate God and Jesus. I decided I would have to walk by faith, even if I didn’t feel it.
I was driving my sons to the library when I asked God directly, Are You there? Do you even care?
Crash! A car ran into a light pole which fell down across the street right behind me. I had narrowly avoided an accident.
Ok. Yup. You’re there alright.
God continued to show me that He is indeed “there” and that He does, in fact, care. At home I sat on my bed with my thoughts.
“You’re worth more than sparrows.”
I knew someone must be praying for me. I decided to look up that verse.
“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows.” Luke 12:6-7
I listened to a parenting podcast while folding laundry and they read this verse, “Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds!” Luke 12:24
Still angry, I went to visit Lydia’s grave. I sat on a nearby bench, tears rolling down my face, and thought about how she was in heaven. How, when I said goodbye to her in the hospital, I said I’d see her again soon. I couldn’t let her down and not show up. I also thought about how sorry I was.
Dear God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not trusting you, and for the role I played in Lydia’s death.
During the next session my counselor asked me, “How do you think God sees Lydia?”
I responded, “She’s pure. As white as snow. She’s been washed in the blood of the Lamb.”
“We’ll, I think…the way that you think God sees Lydia…is the same way He sees you.”
And once again I thought, You’re right. That must be true. After all:
“Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish.” Ephesians 5:25b-27
And the verse that came to mind about being worthless? Turns out I had taken it way out of context:
“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith.” Romans 3:23b-25
My friend, I don’t know what you’ve done or what you haven’t done that makes you feel worthless. Some days I’m sure my daughter’s death was my fault. Other days I’m shown evidence it wasn’t. In any case, repent. Your heavenly Father is waiting with open arms, ready to forgive you. In fact, He already has. Always remember that your identity is found in Christ, the only One who is worthy.
Less than a year later my rainbow baby was born, another daughter, via emergency C-section. My family and I made it through the recovery period just fine. Actually, we made it through with pure joy.
My husband and I picked “Christ Be My Leader” to be her bedtime hymn, and I’d like to share the third verse with you:
“Christ be my Savior in calm as in strife;
Death cannot hold me, for He is the life.
Nor darkness nor doubting nor sin and its stain
Can touch my salvation: with Jesus I reign.”Text by Timothy Dudley-Smith
