Our Jack-Chapter 2

The past few days have been made so special by all of my wonderful family and friends remembering our Jack with me. Thank you, thank you, thank you for checking on me, sharing your remembrances, and showing your love for all of us. I still long for my baby and that longing hurts sometimes but God has allowed my earthly pain to fade as the light of eternity shines brighter and brighter.

Over and over, since Jack's passing, as the Lord has poured out His grace on me,  I've thought, "This must be it. God has healed me totally now." But then, mercifully, He keeps on making me better than I ever could have imagined long ago in those days of intense pain and mourning.  I realize that there will be no neat bookends to my mourning. There will just be steps forward into Jesus's loving arms until I see Him and my sweet child face to face.

So today, another step forward, chapter 2:


I got up from the sonogram table to move to another room to wait for Dr. Jack. Stacy, the sister of one my best friends (Kristen) had been in the sonogram room the whole time. She was a radiology student. I had not known that she would be there that day. She spoke to me as I left and put her hand on my arm as I walked to the next room.

I called Eric at school to tell him. At first he didn't understand. I had to repeat what I said. He told me that he would come to me as quickly as he could. I can't imagine how long that car ride felt for him. I called Rachel again to tell her that we knew for certain now.  She arrived shortly after.

Dr. Jack came back visibly shaken. My heart ached for him too. I could tell he was in just as much shock as we were. He struggled as he told me some of the possible reasons for his death, but that we might not ever know. He explained that they would run tests at the hospital. Because I was a nurse, he asked questions about anything I might have been exposed to while working.

We had many questions. I confessed to him that I had not felt baby Jack move over the weekend. I knew that something was wrong and that I didn't want to believe it was true. He told me that by the time I couldn't feel him move it would have been too late anyway. He explained that I would need to deliver the baby, just like I would if he had been alive and that he would induce my labor.

He wanted to send me to the hospital right away but I told him what Amber had said about the birthing ward overflowing with patients that day. He went out to call the administrator and came back and confirmed that it was still very busy there. I told him that I would rather go home and get my things together anyway and tell the older children and the rest of our family. I was booked for an induction the next morning and he made me promise to come back if I began having pain or was just upset and needed to come.

Eric arrived. We relayed what we had learned to him and sat for a while absorbing what was going on. Rachel took my van with her and I went home with Eric. The staff at the clinic helped us out the back way so that we wouldn't have to go through the waiting rooms.

There were many phone calls on the car ride home. Over and over, we called. I would start with, "Jack's gone." The recipient of that information was always confused. No one saw this coming. There was no buffering between health and happiness and the loss of it. I would repeat my words but would end up saying, "He's dead," because no one seemed to understand until I said that. That harsh 4-letter word that should only be heard on crime dramas or to describe car batteries had to be uttered about my baby boy.

I remember holding hands with Eric and praying in between phone calls. We were quiet. Every so often I would pray out loud, "God help us." I prayed those words at least a 1000 times in the next 72 hours. Eric kept telling me how sorry he was that I had to do this hard thing. I would waffle between telling him that we could do it together and then crying and pleading, "How am I going to do this, Lord?"

We went to pick up Tess and Ty at the elementary school. Eric had called ahead and Mrs. Janet had them ready for us to bring them to our car. Sweet Mrs. Janet. The children didn't know what was going on at this point so they asked a lot of questions. We tried to be chipper and put the news off until we could get them home.

We stopped at Eric's dad's house to tell him. When we got there, we realized that he already knew. Most anyone who knows us, knows "Papa". Papa's birthday is February 19th.

My mom heard the news from my stepdad, Phil, after Rachel called him from the doctor's office. She was now at the airport in Florida, trying to get to us as soon as possible.

My other sister, Emily, left school where she was teaching to go get Amelia from day school and brought her to meet us at home. Eric and I sat the children down on Ty's bed and told them that Jack would not be coming home like we had hoped and planned.  We hugged them, held them and cried with them. Ty was 8 years old, Tess, 6, and Amelia was 2 1/2. We told them the truth as best we knew it at that time and tried to put it into words that they would understand. They had many questions but the one that sticks out the most is one that Tess asked.

"Mama, how come God can't just make him be back alive? Jesus raises people from the dead."

How could I answer it? I wanted to ask God the same question. I knew He is a healer. I wanted my baby back. I answered it the only way I knew how and as honestly as I could.

"I don't know, baby. I know that He could but I also know that sometimes He doesn't do that. Sometimes things happen that we aren't able to understand."

I began to move about packing for all of us. Emily was there helping and I remember having to stop and nearly doubled over in pain with a contraction. After experiencing a couple of those a few minutes apart, I decided to call the hospital to let them know that we would be coming on to Tupelo that night. The supervisor knew who I was when I called and assured me that they were not as busy now and had a room ready and waiting for me.

We hugged and kissed the children and made our way south with uncertainty and trembling.

Our Jack-Chapter 1

When our Jack died, I was not familiar with obituaries. I did not know that to have what you would like printed for your loved one you must pay for it. We would have gladly done so but no one told us--not the newspaper, not the funeral director. So instead of the words that we had written for our boy, the newspaper's words were published. There was almost nothing there. It was an obituary for a person who had lived no life outside of the womb. No extracurricular activities. No church attendance. No place of employment. You wouldn't know by reading it that he was even a baby. There was only a date and his relatives listed.

He had no birthday really because he was dead before he was born. We just have the day that we held him in our arms for such a short time before they took him away. We have no birth certificate of "live birth". (I never noticed that it said "live" before Jack.) We have no death certificate because he was never alive to the State of Mississippi.

I haven't ever shared that day with you. I have written down forms of it in journals and on my computer before in attempts to find words to describe that day and all the feelings, emotions, and events it held. I feel inadequate when I write about it. I usually just quit trying because it hurts and is so hard. Before now, I didn't want to dwell on the details because it could be so easy to slip into "what might have been". In the days, months and years since it has happened, most of my time has been trying NOT to think of him constantly, lest my longing for him become unhealthy and harm me or those around me.

At this time, though, six years later, I find myself almost desperate to remember. I don't just want to generally look back. I want to almost relive it in my mind so that I can put down every detail. It sounds mad, I know. But those days are all I have of him. The mound of evidence that he even existed is so small. I cringe to think that if I don't summon up those thoughts and feelings and fine points that my memory of him might become as generic as that horrible obituary.

Some of you won't understand why I want to go through all of this here, on my blog, and that's ok. I'm thankful for your readership but if you check out for a while because of this I get it. Some of you will read because it is like looking at the scene of a car accident. You know you don't want to see but you can't stop looking. There are some of you that really want to know about this time in our lives because you love us and want to understand us more. It is my hope though, that this "therapy" for me will be helpful in some way to another that grieves. It may help those that mourn alongside them, not knowing what to do or say. If it gives some insight, I'll be thankful.

I don't know how I will do this or how many blogs it will take. I know his small life and his influence on me won't fit into one entry. I don't want this to be a project I start and quit like I have so many times before so I may formulate an outline of a sort but for now I think that to begin is the most important thing. "Well begun is half done" as Mary Poppins would say.

A shadow box that my sister, Rachel, made for me as we excitedly awaited his arrival.

February 19th, 2008. It was a Tuesday morning. I know that without looking it up. I can't remember most things like that. I would be hard pressed to tell you the day of the week any of my other children were born on. I guess I remember because it was empty of more pleasant things to dwell on. I can't fill my brain up with the happiness of the day so I fill it with details that don't matter to me as much with my other LIVE children.

Eric and I had decided that he would stay at work and I would go alone for this visit to the OB. Because Dr. Jack induced me early with my deliveries, we knew that we would have an induction on Thursday morning if I didn't go into labor before then. Since Eric would have to be out of school for those days, we wanted him to not miss for such a routine visit.

I drove to Tupelo like I had many times those past 9 months. I always laughed about driving an hour there and an hour back to see the doctor for 15 minutes in between. I loved Dr. Jack though and would have driven further for him to deliver my babies. As I passed the McCullough boulevard exit, I remember talking with my sister-in-law, Amber, on my cell phone. She had called to check on me. She worked as a nurse at the women's center and she half-jokingly warned me not to go into labor that day because they were full and women were having to labor in the hallways. I laughed with her and said that I would wait.

I arrived at the doctor's office, signed in and waited for my name to be called. When it was, I went back, cringed as they weighed me and let them check my blood pressure. My heart rate was high that morning--over 100 beats per minute. The nurse commented on it. I went to the patient room assigned to me and waited for Dr. Jack. He came in after a few moments and had me lay back so that he could use the doppler to hear the our Jack's heartbeat.

After a full minute of searching, I knew. All we could hear was a distant whoosh that was pretty fast and regular but not nearly as fast as the baby's heart beat should be. He said that was probably it. That he was just laying differently. I relayed that my heart rate had been over 100 when they checked my vital signs.  He frowned. He said that he wanted me to go to the ultrasound room so they could check. He didn't think there was a problem. That they would just look and make sure. I was silent and felt my world begin to spin.

The nurse asked me if there was anyone that we could call. Rachel, my sister, worked nearby in Tupelo. I called her on my cell phone to tell her they could not find his heartbeat and that we were about to do an ultrasound. I walked back to the ultrasound room knowing that everything was not ok.

The sonographer began and a beautiful profile of our baby appeared on the television screen. A beautiful, perfect picture that was perfectly still. I heard someone sobbing and groaning loudly. After a few moments, I realized it was me. She knew and I knew. She got up to go get the doctor. Dr. Eric Webb was the physician that came and sat in the chair beside me. Dr. Webb introduced himself apologized that Dr. Jack wasn't there. Dr. Jack had to go to the hospital to check on a patient. And then he relayed to me in words as gently as he could what I already knew in my heart and head.

Jack was "gone". His body was right where it should be, but his spirit had left us.

Come Fly With Me

I haven't posted a blog since September.  I've taken long breaks before. Oddly enough, my blogging hiatuses usually occur when I have the most to say. Its just that I can't find a way to put my feelings into words in a way that would do justice to them. With all those months and words floating around in my head and heart, I in no way imagined that this would be the blog that I would break my small silence with. But here you go:

The other day as I readied to leave the house, I reached up into the top of the coat closet to grab a shawl. The weather was much warmer than the frigid days that we had been experiencing. The shawl was a beautiful navy wool one that I received as a gift from a friend. She had been to Scotland and thoughtfully brought me this souvenir on her return. 

I threw it over my shoulders, grabbed Dinah and hurried out the door. I had a couple of bags on my shoulders and because of them I didn't think much about the awkward way the wrap fell around me. I just thought I hadn't placed it right. I drove as quickly and safely as I could to drop Dinah at Papa's house so I could head to work. 

Time was of the essence because I was late. I deposited Dinah at Papa's with a whirl of hugs and kisses. I turned into work parking lot on two wheels, flew in the back door and hung my wrap on the coat hook in our office.

I worked productively all day long. Making a difference. Saving lives. Loving on folks. Doing paperwork for Jesus.

With happiness and fulfillment at the end of the long day, I put my purse on my shoulder, take my shawl from the hook, wrap myself in it again, say goodbye to my co-workers, and exit the building. I climb into my van and I start the ignition and sit to wait for it to warm up. I sigh with contentment and glance down at my cloak. I begin to really look at it for the first time that day. The quality of the material was poor. Huh. The wrap from Scotland is of the finest wool.

I pull the fabric around in front of me to inspect it further. I find a tag in the corner. It reads "Continental Airlines".

I had been wearing an airline blanket for warmth and style.

I guess that's what I get for taking it without the Airline's permission.