Mother to Sarah
November 12, 2009 – November 15, 2009
Grove City, Pennsylvania
Sarah Elisabeth was born on November 12, 2009. She weighed 6 pounds, 9 ½ ounces and was 19 ¼ inches long. She had black curly hair and dark blue eyes. She was my first child. My pregnancy journey began on April 7, 2009, when I found out I was pregnant. Much of my pregnancy was normal. I felt sick and needed to eat every few hours. I was so tired I would take naps.
My pregnancy became complicated and high-risk in September when I ended up in the ER with a UTI and was found to be in pre-term labor. After that, my pregnancy was full of tests and surgical interventions to place stents. Then, I spent time in and out of the OB with wacky liver enzymes and all sorts of issues. I was referred to Magee Women’s Hospital in Pittsburgh for a consult, as doctors believed I had cholestasis. I did not, but I still needed a C-section to deliver Sarah, as I developed pre-eclampsia.
Sarah came into the world screaming. It was hard to believe 72 hours later, Sarah would be dead and I would be left to grieve. The autopsy failed to provide a definite cause of death for my sweet angel baby, Sarah.
This is an entry from my blog:
Have you ever done something and when you thought later you realized that you were blessed for being able to do it? This past weekend, I spent three hours ministering at a friend’s church for the Youth Appreciation Day. I felt like the richest person for getting to meet young people. I got to deliver a doll to a girl. I got to wish a little 5-year-old a happy birthday and sing to her. I got to help another youngster with his necklace. I truly felt like I was the mom to all the kids.
Have you ever found that what began as a painful experience became a blessing? Thirty-two months ago [at time of writing], I railed at God about how I could not understand how Sarah’s death could not harm me and how it could be for my best. This past weekend, I finally understand a little more about how God can use this for my best.
When you bury a child, you are sent on a detour in your life. At first, the detour is so bumpy and painful and you think it will kill you. As you navigate the detour, you learn to not be scared of the cliffs of grief and you learn to trust God for the next breath. Sometimes the pain of grief is so great that you wonder how you will take the next breath or the next step. You cry out to God and say, “I cannot do this anymore!” Then and only then, after you completely surrender, do you have the strength to continue. You find that in being completely helpless, you have all the strength you need because God’s strength is so much bigger than our own.
I do not know where this road will lead me and that is okay. It is like Garth Brooks song, “The Dance.” I am glad I did not know that Sarah’s life was only for 3 days. I would have missed the joy of her birth because I would have been dreading her death. I am glad I did not know the way it all was going to end because I would have been bitter, more than I was. I like not having all the answers. I am finding the joy in this journey as I meet parents who are grieving their own children. I meet children whose lives are full of pain, but who I can share hope and joy with because of my own blessings.
Oh, and I thrive on making the world a better place. I may not have the answers, but I have the passion to make the world a better place for my daughter having been in it. The kids I meet are someone’s child. God loves them and my heart’s cry is to make them aware of His love and how much I love them. I love the kids in Farrell. I love their passion and their drive. They face the world that is full of pain and heartbreak and they enrich my life so much.