Every story has a beginning, middle, and end. I once heard that beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it’s what’s in the middle that counts. As a middle aged mother of five boys, I can attest that the middle does indeed count.
I had three boys at the time that I found out I was pregnant with Olie. I was 37 years old and my youngest was 2. We had not planned whether we were going to have any more children or not, but as we learned, it did not matter what we had planned. God had plans for us.
We found out that I was pregnant by the way many do. I had missed my period and we were not sure what that meant, but sure that I could be pregnant. We were scared when we found out about the lack of planning that had gone into this new life, but we were ready for whatever was coming our way.
Except that we weren’t really ready. We lamented about what it meant for us financially, asked whether we had a big enough house, how long I could stay home with the baby. We worried whether we could emotionally support a fourth child. Still, we trusted ourselves that this was part of our life’s work and that God would provide, as He has done with every child he has given us.
If I could go back and change anything, I would have worried less and spent more time admiring the life that was growing inside of me. For he would only be there for nine short weeks and those initial thoughts would haunt me for a lifetime.
After many ultrasounds and seeing a heartbeat, we were hopeful. We had three other children without complication so even though I was 37 surely this baby would be the same. We truly were fools. At 9 weeks and 2 days, we went in for the ultrasound that would forever change our view of how life actually works. We had lost our beloved Olie due to multiple chromosomal problems.
We were heartbroken and could not even speak. To be honest, I think we were in shock. We came home to tell the boys who knew I was having a baby and our entire family fell apart in tears.
It has been a long and heavy road since the day that we lost Olie. There are good and bad moments. There are moments of joy followed by moments of intense sorrow. The journey back has been hopeful, lonely, and unforgiving at times. I no longer recognize myself some days, but I am hopeful that with each step we take as a family, we are moving to remembering Olie with joy and happiness instead of tears.
To anyone who has found this page and knows the loss that I am describing, know that I am thinking and praying for you. It is a difficult and overwhelming journey at times, but when you emerge from the darkness, you will be a better version of yourself. It is worth the work.
To anyone who knows someone who is on this journey, be patient with them. Listen to them and support them with anything that they need. This is their journey and theirs to make alone, but support is the number one reason they will come back a better version of themselves. If you would like to send out a bag to acknowledge them, please visit my contact page for information.