May 20, 1998. That was the due date of our first baby. My family and many of my friends know that Jon and I lost our first child, and that this is not something I talk about very often. But today, it’s weighing heavily on my mind. Sometimes when I blog, it’s almost therapeutic for me to get it all out there, so I thought this might help today.
In January that year, at five months pregnant, we found out that our baby had died in utero due to a genetic disorder called cystic hygroma. We do not know whether it was a boy or girl (we were actually supposed to find out the day we received this news), but had the baby lived, s/he would have had many medical complications and would not have been expected to live long. It was devasting to us then, and it’s something I’ll never completely get over. I often wonder if the baby was a boy or girl (in my heart, I felt it was a boy), and what kind of person s/he would be. I feel as if there’s a part of my soul that will always be missing. While we never met him/her, we decided to name the baby Christian. When I became pregnant with twins soon thereafter, and the girls’ birthday being almost exactly a year to the day of Christian’s due date, I feel that God looked upon us and said “I’m so sorry. Here’s an extra one.”
For reasons I won’t get into here (maybe in another blog post sometime later), for me, butterflies have come to represent Christian’s memory. I don’t have many things by which to remember him/her, but there are two things that I have that bring me comfort when I look at them. One is the butterfly ankle bracelet that I NEVER take off. And the other is this:
In January that year, at five months pregnant, we found out that our baby had died in utero due to a genetic disorder called cystic hygroma. We do not know whether it was a boy or girl (we were actually supposed to find out the day we received this news), but had the baby lived, s/he would have had many medical complications and would not have been expected to live long. It was devasting to us then, and it’s something I’ll never completely get over. I often wonder if the baby was a boy or girl (in my heart, I felt it was a boy), and what kind of person s/he would be. I feel as if there’s a part of my soul that will always be missing. While we never met him/her, we decided to name the baby Christian. When I became pregnant with twins soon thereafter, and the girls’ birthday being almost exactly a year to the day of Christian’s due date, I feel that God looked upon us and said “I’m so sorry. Here’s an extra one.”
For reasons I won’t get into here (maybe in another blog post sometime later), for me, butterflies have come to represent Christian’s memory. I don’t have many things by which to remember him/her, but there are two things that I have that bring me comfort when I look at them. One is the butterfly ankle bracelet that I NEVER take off. And the other is this:
This memento holds a special place in our home along with a wall of family photos. Our pictures may change over the years as we update them, but this butterfly will also be there. While we don’t have much by which to remember Christian, it is this … and our memories … that will always remain.
"A butterfly lights beside us, like a sunbeam ... and for a brief moment its glory and beauty belong to our world, but then it flies on again, and although we wish it could have stayed, we are so thankful to have seen it at all." -- unknown
