I arrived at the hospital around 1:30 a.m. Upon entering the labor room where my wife lay, I saw all the familiar equipment. Beside her bed was the machine used to monitor contractions and our unborn baby’s heartbeat. But something was wrong. All the nurses and technicians in the room were very somber and quiet. It was obvious that a serious concern had developed. I went to my wife’s side. Her eyes were filled with tears. In a shaky, quiet voice she said, “They have not been able to hear the baby’s heartbeat.”
The room suddenly felt cold; freezing cold! With one hand I grasped my wife’s, and with the other, I stroked her head. Words would not form in my mouth.
At that moment the door to the room swung open and our doctor quickly entered. He immediately went to work trying to find our baby’s heartbeat. His face was emotionless; just a blank stare as he worked. The doctor picked up an instrument which looked like a small, slender rod with a corkscrew on the tip. He began to explain that he was going to twist the corkscrew tip into the baby’s body. It would be able to discover any electrical impulses that might be present and identify life. I backed up to the room’s window and held my breath. “Please God,” I prayed, “Let us hear a heartbeat.”
The doctor turned his monitor on, twisted a few knobs and after what seemed liked hours, he looked up and quietly said, “I am so sorry, but your baby has died.” He then abruptly left the room.
“No! No! No!” My whole body was screaming. “I do not accept this! There must be a mistake. You must be talking about someone else’s baby. Someone who does not want their baby. Someone who does not love their baby. Someone who does not believe in God. Someone who does not love God.” Then I looked at my wife and thought, “And how I love this woman and I know she loves me. With all this love there must be a mistake.”
The doctor soon returned to the room. His eyes were now very red. It was obvious that he had been crying. He shared in our sorrow. The doctor then informed us, “We need to begin a potassium drip which will hasten the delivery process.” The doctor’s voice sounded very far away. I guess I was in shock.
In 2 Samuel 12 we read of King David as he was experiencing deep grief over the sickness of his newborn son. David lay on the floor of his bedroom for seven days refusing to eat or drink. News that the infant had died spread to David’s servants. The king saw them whispering and asked, “Is the child dead?” They hesitantly confirmed his suspicion. What would the king do now? How much more drastic might his behavior become?
Upon hearing this news David got up, bathed, put on clean clothes and worshiped God. Then he requested food. His servants were dumbfounded. David explained himself by saying, “While the child was alive I fasted and wept hoping that the Lord would be gracious to me so that my child might live. But now he is dead. Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.”
Notice the sequence of events. David grieved; turned to God; then began to live life again. He did not blame God, himself, or anyone else. My wife and I chose to follow this divine pattern after the death of our baby girl. God does not remove all of our suffering nor does he offer an explanation for it. He does, however, care and understand. The apostle Peter encourages us to “cast all your care upon Him, for He cares for you” (1 Pet. 5:7).
In heaven will be friends and loved ones with whom I have shared many wonderful times. I have precious memories of those who have gone on before me. But, also in heaven will be the soul of a precious baby girl who has never met her earthly parents. A little girl who has not felt the love of those who gave her life. Even now, years after her physical death, I carry the love within me that belongs only to her. I am convinced that I will one day be able to transport this love into heaven and give it to our sweet daughter. Now, more than ever, I look forward to going home to heaven. This incentive comes from trusting and keeping my faith in God as I have experienced things in life which are bad. And that is good!
The following is a poem I wrote several years after our baby’s death.
My love for her will never die.
My Little Angel
BY TIM KIDWELL
Life began in the womb last night.
By love our Angel was formed out of sight.
Safe from the world with all its strife;
We touched each other as husband and wife.
Our Angel was growing more each day;
We could feel her kick, squirm and play.
We wanted to hold her, but could not just yet;
She was still forming in God’s safety net.
The love we felt building was unbelievably strong;
We would soon take her home and sing a lullaby song.
The doctor said just a few more minutes remained;
Our desire to hold our Angel could not be restrained.
We were together, husband and wife;
Waiting to share our Angel’s sweet life.
Curly black hair, a cute little nose;
Rose petal lips, and on each foot five precious toes.
But the doctor slowly shook his head as he turned to say;
Your little Angel has gone away.
Our tears flowed freely, the pain was deep;
But nothing could awaken our Angel from her sleep.
Now in paradise she dwelt;
On earth, just her picture was left.
Our sweet Angel was gone;
Leaving us to hold only a lullaby song.
My Angel cannot come to live with me;
But to her I can go and forever be,
And give her the love that is hers to keep;
My dear, little precious, Angel sweet.
留言