It was an uneventful pregnancy until I had my first sonogram on June 21. The doctor told us that we were having a girl, and I remember him pointing out her heart and saying that it looked great. Then the doctor started looking at her head. He got very quiet for a long time, and it was at this point that I began to get nervous. He walked over to the table where my chart was and flipped through it, obviously looking for something. He then went back and forth between the chart and the ultrasound machine, looking intently at both of them, before he said, "I can't find any record of an AFP test -- did you have one?" I told him that we had opted not to. He looked for a while longer and finally broke the news to us: our daughter had anencephaly.
Anencephaly is a fatal birth defect which occurs early in pregnancy. The neural tube fails to close and, as a result, most of the baby's brain is missing. The doctor told us that she would be normal from the eyebrows down, but that her head would stop at the eyebrows. He told us that she would either be stillborn or die shortly after birth, but that survival was impossible.
He sent us for a second opinion and told us that when we were finished we should come back to his office to discuss our options. The second doctor confirmed that our little girl was indeed anencephalic. Back in the obstetrician's office, he told us that most people choose to terminate the pregnancy by having labor induced, but that some people do carry to term, and that he would support us no matter which way we decided to go. He advised us not to make any decisions for about a week so that we wouldn't act hastily and regret anything later.
I knew immediately that I wanted to carry our daughter for as long as possible, but I wasn't sure how Walt was feeling about it. After a few days of talking and praying and researching and questioning and exploring every possible option and every possible emotion we each had on the subject, we came to the very definite conclusion that we were agreed: we would love our daughter for as long as we had the privilege. We would not "play God". We would not give our surviving children the chance to ever look at us and say, "You say we serve a miracle-working God. Why did you deny Him the opportunity?"
As the days passed, I knew I wanted to choose a very special name for our very special girl, and I found the perfect one in the New Testament. My baby name book says that Talitha is Arabic/Aramaic for 'little girl', and I took her name from the following passage of Scripture:
"When they came to the home of the synagogue ruler, Jesus saw a commotion, with people crying and wailing loudly. He went in and said to them, "Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but asleep." But they laughed at him. After he put them all out, he took the child's father and mother and the disciples who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, "Talitha koum!" (which means, "Little girl, I say to you, get up!"). Immediately the girl stood up and walked around (she was twelve years old). At this they were completely astonished." (Mark 5:38-42 NIV)
I chose the name Talitha for a couple of reasons. First, if we received a miracle and our daughter survived, it would be the perfect name for her. But if she died at birth, I loved the idea of my deaf, blind, and so-much-more little girl arriving in heaven, hearing the voice of her Savior saying to her, "Talitha koum!", and doing it.
I chose the name Hope because nobody else was giving her any.
One day while Torey was at school and Jonah was at Mother's Day Out, we went to the funeral home to discuss our options with the funeral director. After we left, we went for a drive in order to sort through everything.
Walt told me that he wanted to dig Talitha's grave. Thinking he was doing it in order to save money, I told him that it wouldn't be necessary. I thought there were far better ways to save money than to skimp on funeral costs by digging the grave of one's own child. He again stated that it's what he wanted to do. Once again, I protested.
He took my hand and started crying. "You don't get it," he said. "You are actively being her mother. You are carrying her and you are giving her life. I will never get to do anything for her. I will never teach her how to ride a bike, I will never spank her little bottom, and I will never walk her down the aisle. I will never actively be her father. This is the only thing I can ever do for her. Please let me do it."
So that was settled.
On September 29, I began feeling some contractions. I told Walt that it felt like true labor, but I assumed that it wasn't. Torey and Jonah both took their time getting her, and anencephalics are very frequently late, so it honestly never occured to me that I was really in labor. That night I woke up at about 1:00 am and immediately passed a couple of blood clots that were larger than my fist. We called a friend to come stay with our kids, and Walt took me to the emergency room there in town. They kept me just long enough to prepare me for the trip to my OB's hospital (45 miles away -- we lived in a small town and they don't deliver babies there). I was given an IV and put on the ambulance. Walt followed in our van. By the time we got to the hospital, my blood pressure was down to 52/15, I was dilated to 3 cm, and I had lost so much blood that a c-section was necessary.
One day while Torey was at school and Jonah was at Mother's Day Out, we went to the funeral home to discuss our options with the funeral director. After we left, we went for a drive in order to sort through everything.
Walt told me that he wanted to dig Talitha's grave. Thinking he was doing it in order to save money, I told him that it wouldn't be necessary. I thought there were far better ways to save money than to skimp on funeral costs by digging the grave of one's own child. He again stated that it's what he wanted to do. Once again, I protested.
He took my hand and started crying. "You don't get it," he said. "You are actively being her mother. You are carrying her and you are giving her life. I will never get to do anything for her. I will never teach her how to ride a bike, I will never spank her little bottom, and I will never walk her down the aisle. I will never actively be her father. This is the only thing I can ever do for her. Please let me do it."
So that was settled.
On September 29, I began feeling some contractions. I told Walt that it felt like true labor, but I assumed that it wasn't. Torey and Jonah both took their time getting her, and anencephalics are very frequently late, so it honestly never occured to me that I was really in labor. That night I woke up at about 1:00 am and immediately passed a couple of blood clots that were larger than my fist. We called a friend to come stay with our kids, and Walt took me to the emergency room there in town. They kept me just long enough to prepare me for the trip to my OB's hospital (45 miles away -- we lived in a small town and they don't deliver babies there). I was given an IV and put on the ambulance. Walt followed in our van. By the time we got to the hospital, my blood pressure was down to 52/15, I was dilated to 3 cm, and I had lost so much blood that a c-section was necessary.
(Believe it or not, that was actually an answer to prayer. I knew ahead of time that a c-section would increase her chances of being born alive, but when I asked my doctor to schedule one, he said, "I'll only do a c-section if there's an emergency with your health. You don't need to be recovering from a c-section while you're burying your child." Though I saw his logic, I was already a c-section veteran and didn't know what the big deal was. I began to pray that I would have a c-section and that Talitha would be born alive.)
Talitha was born at 5:23 am. The doctors and nurses cleaned her off and immediately gave her to us so that we could spend as much time as possible with her. They moved us to the recovery room and allowed us privacy. The nurse and the pediatrician (who remained in order to note the time of death) stayed over on the other side of the room, respectfully awaiting the time when they were needed.
Walt and I took turns holding her, each trying to cram a lifetime's worth of love into whatever time we were given. I took my little girl in my arms and sang "You Are My Sunshine". Walt picked her up and carried her over to the window. Knowing that she was blind and deaf, he still showed her the view and told her all about the beautiful world God had made. He told her about the grass and the trees and the sky. He told her that soon she would be going somewhere even more beautiful, that she would be meeting Jesus, and that Jesus would be both her Healer and her Savior.
And then my husband sang to her:
"Sunlight, sunlight in my soul today
Sunlight, sunlight all along the way
Since the Savior found me, took away my sin
I have had the sunlight of his love within."
He moved from that into "Jesus Loves Me", and as he sang to her about Jesus, she went straight from her father's arms into her Father's arms. It was 6:15 am. We had been blessed with her for 52 minutes.
My only redhead, she looked a lot like Torey, and I am grateful for that. I like knowing that I can look at Torey's pictures from any given age and know that Talitha would probably have resembled her.
We kept her with us until around noon. My parents and my brother and his wife were unable to make it before she died, but did arrive in time to see and hold her. Walt and my dad drove back to our town to pick Torey up so she could see her sister. We left Jonah with a friend -- he had just turned 3 three weeks earlier, and we weren't sure how confusing it would have been for him to have only seen her after she died. Had he been able to see her alive, we would not have hesitated.
It was amazing to watch Torey with the baby. As soon as she got to my hospital room, she asked, "Where's my sister?" and then ran over to my mother, who was holding Talitha at the time. My mom gave Talitha to Torey. Torey held her for quite a while, beaming from ear to ear the whole time. She never seemed to notice the defect -- all she saw was her sister. Torey stayed with us until it was time to send Talitha to the funeral home. She got very upset when she realized that Talitha was leaving for good, so she told her goodbye and my parents took her out for lunch, and Talitha was taken away after they left.
Because I had had a c-section, I had to stay in the hospital for a few days. Walt had to handle all the final arrangements by himself. We had done some preparation, but because Talitha was born just over a month early, we weren't completely ready. Walt got the plot at the cemetery and purchased the casket.
I went home on Sunday and we stopped by the funeral home on the way home so I could see Talitha's casket. Because we had kept her with us for several hours after her death, we weren't able to have the casket open at all. Seeing such a tiny casket and knowing that it was my own daughter in there literally took my breath away for a minute. I think that was the saddest moment of my life.
Walt and my father dug her grave on Monday, and we buried her on Tuesday, October 5, 1999. We had a private burial at 1:00 and a public memorial service at 2:00.
AFTERWARD . . .
22 months after Talitha's birth and death, we were blessed by the arrival of EJ. We thank the Lord that she is perfectly healthy.
Talitha was born at 5:23 am. The doctors and nurses cleaned her off and immediately gave her to us so that we could spend as much time as possible with her. They moved us to the recovery room and allowed us privacy. The nurse and the pediatrician (who remained in order to note the time of death) stayed over on the other side of the room, respectfully awaiting the time when they were needed.
Walt and I took turns holding her, each trying to cram a lifetime's worth of love into whatever time we were given. I took my little girl in my arms and sang "You Are My Sunshine". Walt picked her up and carried her over to the window. Knowing that she was blind and deaf, he still showed her the view and told her all about the beautiful world God had made. He told her about the grass and the trees and the sky. He told her that soon she would be going somewhere even more beautiful, that she would be meeting Jesus, and that Jesus would be both her Healer and her Savior.
And then my husband sang to her:
"Sunlight, sunlight in my soul today
Sunlight, sunlight all along the way
Since the Savior found me, took away my sin
I have had the sunlight of his love within."
He moved from that into "Jesus Loves Me", and as he sang to her about Jesus, she went straight from her father's arms into her Father's arms. It was 6:15 am. We had been blessed with her for 52 minutes.
My only redhead, she looked a lot like Torey, and I am grateful for that. I like knowing that I can look at Torey's pictures from any given age and know that Talitha would probably have resembled her.
We kept her with us until around noon. My parents and my brother and his wife were unable to make it before she died, but did arrive in time to see and hold her. Walt and my dad drove back to our town to pick Torey up so she could see her sister. We left Jonah with a friend -- he had just turned 3 three weeks earlier, and we weren't sure how confusing it would have been for him to have only seen her after she died. Had he been able to see her alive, we would not have hesitated.
It was amazing to watch Torey with the baby. As soon as she got to my hospital room, she asked, "Where's my sister?" and then ran over to my mother, who was holding Talitha at the time. My mom gave Talitha to Torey. Torey held her for quite a while, beaming from ear to ear the whole time. She never seemed to notice the defect -- all she saw was her sister. Torey stayed with us until it was time to send Talitha to the funeral home. She got very upset when she realized that Talitha was leaving for good, so she told her goodbye and my parents took her out for lunch, and Talitha was taken away after they left.
Because I had had a c-section, I had to stay in the hospital for a few days. Walt had to handle all the final arrangements by himself. We had done some preparation, but because Talitha was born just over a month early, we weren't completely ready. Walt got the plot at the cemetery and purchased the casket.
I went home on Sunday and we stopped by the funeral home on the way home so I could see Talitha's casket. Because we had kept her with us for several hours after her death, we weren't able to have the casket open at all. Seeing such a tiny casket and knowing that it was my own daughter in there literally took my breath away for a minute. I think that was the saddest moment of my life.
Walt and my father dug her grave on Monday, and we buried her on Tuesday, October 5, 1999. We had a private burial at 1:00 and a public memorial service at 2:00.
AFTERWARD . . .
22 months after Talitha's birth and death, we were blessed by the arrival of EJ. We thank the Lord that she is perfectly healthy.
God bless you all, and your angel Talitha. You have amazing strength and faith. You are inspirational. Again, God bless you all. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for sharing your story. My heart was so deeply touched. You're an amazing family.
ReplyDeleteWe love you guys.
You don't know me but I am from Eldorado & used to attend the church your husband was the pastor of. I remember your family very well. I just had my daughter 17 days ago. Your daughter's story has touched my hear & had me in tears since I began reading. I can not even begin to imagine. Your strength is utterly amazing to say the least. Thank you for giving me a reminder that our children are only ever lent to us. You never truly know when God will want them back. God bless you all.
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