About this time last year, I had gone in for what I thought would be another routine prenatal appointment. Boy was my train derailed when the OB dr I was seeing couldn't find Harbor's heart beat.
Today while at church we were asked a question:
"How is Agency a blessing in our life?"
(If you're not sure what Agency is...as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, we believe that before we came to earth we had a choice. To Follow Satan's plan or Jesus Christ's plan. With Satan's plan we would be forced to do what we do. But with Jesus' plan, we would be able to freely choose choices and hopefully our choices would lead us back to our Heavenly Father.)
So as I sat an pondered on this question. My mind went racing in all sorts of directions.
Harbor has been weighing heavy on my heart and mind these days, as it gets closer to his 1st birthday and closer to his little sister's arrival. I then started thinking back to that day...that day when I was told he no longer was alive.
My OB had to finally talk me through my options as I sat bawling in her office. I had 3 options: #1: I could choose to have a D&E (basically an abortion, not a choice I was going to make) #2: I could choose to go home and have him naturally (but with a prior loss it took over 6 weeks for my body to actually expel everything, not a good option either) or option #3: be induced and hope and pray that his body would be born in-tacked and whole.
In that moment, I didn't want any of those options. I wanted my son back. I wanted his heart to be beating and for the Dr to be wrong. I was in denial. Shock. Disbelief.
I made a hard decision to be induced. Even with the possibilities and doubt from the Drs. I felt it in my heart it was the right thing for me to do in this situation. Labor lasted just over 7 hours. But he was born. Fully in-cased in his bag of waters. Protected and whole! The events after weren't what I would wish on my worst enemy.
To hold your limp, lifeless son in your hands. To cry uncontrollably for hours and pray that that child would just breath. Just 1 cry. Something. Silence can be powerful. Pain strickening. Unbearable.
I have never felt anything more powerful in my life, then that night Harbor was born. I felt the angels from Heaven so incredibly close that night. I knew a force more powerful then anything earthly was carrying me through those 1st few hours. I can't even describe it. It was overpowering.
Now...I know you are probably wondering what all of this has to do with the question above:
"How is Agency a blessing in our life?"
Let me tell you. For me, being able to have options to choose from was a huge blessing in my life! I had my Free agency to choose whether or not to see my son. No matter the outcome from his birth. Because of this CHOICE I was able to hold and look at and admire in aw at his tiny features. I was able to take pictures that I cherish far more then anything.
No. I didn't have my free agency to choose whether Harbor lived or died. But I did get to use my agency on how he was born. And in my case, it was for the better.
I am grateful for the many blessings, people & friends, I have met and the lessons I have learned, of just how precious this life is. These things came along with the hardship I have endured, with the loss of my son.
Without my free agency of how Harbor was born, I could have been forced to have a D&E. That would have haunted me more so, the rest of my life. I wouldn't have been able to see or hold Harbor. I would have been robbed of the opportunities and memories that have come with his birth. Some good, some bad. I would have been left feeling more empty. More confused. More scared. More hurt.
But with my Agency, I have been blessed with closure. A better understanding. A piece of mind that helps me get through my days without him here.
No, I might never "get over" his death. I may never stop grieving. But I am more grateful for my opportunities to choose...in all circumstances.
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This week is harder for me already. Just knowing that I have made it nearly a whole year without my son here, kills me inside. The sister at church that gave our lesson also talked about "The Dash".
She read a short story or poem about The Dash. It talks about when someone dies and their tombstone says something like, 04/28/83- 09/17/13. How friends and family are the only ones left to KNOW just what that Dash meant in their loved ones life.
As she read this...I started bawling. (Pregnancy hormones, possibly.) but I started thinking about Harbor's Dash. He doesn't necessarily have a Dash. His birthdate is after his death date. Think about it. His death date is on about February 7, 2014 but his birthdate is on February 12, 2014. So his numbers on a tombstone would look like this: 02/12/14-02/07/14. Crazy & Confusing.
For a baby that is lost while inside their Momma's, there isn't always a Dash. But even without a dash, Harbor's life meant something to me. To my husband. To my other 4 living children. To some friends and family members. And that is something truly amazing! Some people are just special enough to grace this world long enough to make an impact that they didn't even need a whole Dash to define them or to mean something more!
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