On October 24, 2006 we found out we were expecting baby #5. When the morning sickness did not kick in and I contracted a horrible case of the old fashioned flu, I became convinced I would miscarry. I was actually surprised to see a little bitty beating heart on the ultrasound screen a few weeks later.
The morning sickness did finally kick in and with it came all sorts of neurological issues for me. Things like itching and restless legs kept me up at night. I was miserable and summer was dragging on. Emily’s due date of July 2 came and went.
In the wee hours of July 4th, contractions began and it looked as if Daddy would get his wish for an Independence Day baby. However, something didn’t feel right. I could barely move even after a contraction was over. My sides ached and I felt like something was wrong. Once in labor and delivery, it became quite clear that our baby had turned transverse breech and that was why my sides hurt so badly.
I was taken to the operating room in order to have the doctor try a manual version (turning of the baby from the outside). I had an epidural in place just in case my 9 year old c-section scar decided to rupture. Prior to the version, my husband asked if we could pray. The entire OR came to a halt as my husband prayed over my belly. As soon as he finished, the doctor took one look at my belly and said, “Something is different.” She asked for a sonogram to confirm her suspicion…sure enough, baby had turned head down! With that, she broke my water, monitored me a bit longer and we headed back to labor and delivery.
That afternoon, Emily Sofia was born into my husband’s arms. She was beautiful and BIG! 10 pounds 2 ounces, with a mop of brown hair…more hair than any of my other children have had. That night, we watched fireworks from the hospital window. We were in love and this was bliss.
The next few months were a whirlwind of moving and vacationing. Little Emily saw 6 states in 4 months! We had finally begun settling into a new city and a new home when I took a trip to visit a friend while my husband was away on business. It was right after Thanksgiving and Emily was just shy of 5 months old.
During that visit, Emily exhibited signs of a cold. Yet, something was different about it. Sometimes she seemed stuffy, but then it would go away. Other times she had a bit of a cough, but it would go away. She had a slight fever, but it too would wax and wane. There was nothing concrete, but something about it concerned me. I headed home with the hopes that a good dose of her own surroundings would heal Emily right up. It did not.
That following Sunday, Emily’s condition took a downward spiral. She began throwing up and it was yellow…bright yellow. That evening her diaper had blood in it. We headed to the ER, leaving our 4 children in the care of my mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law who happened to be there trimming the Chritmas tree with us.
They quickly got Emily to a room and did all sorts of testing. The doctor put his hand on my shoulder and said, “We don’t know what this is, but your daughter is very sick.” Pneumonia was tossed around, but I remember thinking that sounded like a strange diagnosis. Sure enough, up in pediatrics, where we were sent for the night, the nurses had masks on and we were not to leave the room. I felt stranded and helpless. No one came and no one seemed to know what was wrong. Emily continued to throw up and I continued to clean her and the floor with hospital towels. Finally, that morning the pediatrician showed up and had a more concrete diagnosis for us. He believed she had intussusception, which is a telescoping of the bowel. She was taken to radiology to confirm the diagnosis and hopefully correct the telescoping without surgery. However, that was not to be and that afternoon she underwent surgery.
Ty’s boss came up with a little pink and white stuffed doggy for Emily and sat with us through much of the surgery. I don’t remember being particularly scared because I didn’t think it would be a big deal…go in, straighten out the bowel, the end. I still remember the look on the surgeon’s face as she came to tell us things were not so easy. Emily’s small intestine was black. It was dead and twisted. She had a congenital defect called malrotation. They would have to go back in in a couple of days and see what of the bowel had survived, ressect what had not, and then restring her bowel. Until then, we would live in Pediatric Intensive Care (PICU).
She was drugged and on a ventilator. There were tubes and alarms and IV’s everywhere. Two days later, Emily went back to surgery and had 1/3 of her small intestines ressected.
During the 10 days we spent in PICU, Emily became seriously ill with a systemic yeast infection. Her central line was pulled and a broviac put in. She was treated by so many doctors, I kept track of everything in a notebook lest I forget who was who. My husband and I slept tightly on a small pull-out couch in a corner of her room. We rarely left her side.
Still battling the yeast, but off the ventilator and stable, we moved to Pediatrics. It took 3 weeks total to get the green light to leave. On Christmas Eve 2007, we came home to spend Emily’s first Christmas with our entire family.
Emily was a quiet child. She was always happy, always serene. But, the two weeks following her dismissal were spent trying to comfort her as she cried and began to throw up again. She lost weight and we told the surgeon we had to bring her. She went back in for surgery to ressect scar tissue and a bit more bowel that had died following the original surgery. Six days later, we were back home and all was well. We talked about what an amazing story this little girl would grow up with. We rejoiced in her healing and began to think to our new and normal future.
But, Emily did not gain weight. She looked healthy, but she was very tiny. At 7 months she weighed what she had weighed at 7 weeks. And she had become very somber. The doctors believed it would just take time for her to heal. We watched and waited.
On February 9, 2008, we drove back down to the same friend’s house we had been at when Emily had originally become sick. This time Daddy was with us and we left the four older children in the care of our friends while we went with Emily to a business dinner.
Emily was the belle of the ball. She was her usual serene self, charming everyone there.
That night, my friend, Sarah, and I sat up scrabooking when Emily awoke with a fever. I had brought some fever reducer and I gave that to her and nursed her. I remember remarking about deja vu…how this reminded me of her getting sick the last time we were there. I said it jokingly.
Emily’s fever went back down and she settled in. We went to bed.
Again, I was awakened by her cries and a fever. It was time that I could give her more medicine, so I did and took her to the couch to nurse. My oldest son awoke and as I sat there nursing her, I told him that she was sick and needed his prayers. He said, “That must be why God woke me up.”
She settled, her fever went down, and I laid her on a palette we had fixed on the floor beside our bed. I laid myself down. It was 6:30 am.
Less than 2 hours later, I awoke to the older children clamoring to find their friends and begin a day of playing. I rolled over to glance at Emmy. “Oh, good, she’s awake and looks happy,” I said to myself. I rolled back toward my husband when something struck me. She did not look quite right to me. I rolled back over and took a long hard look at her. I jumped up and grabbed her off the palette and laid her on the bed where I had been sleeping.
Her eyes were not tracking…she was looking off over my shoulder. Her sides were heaving and she had a faint smile on her lips. I said her name over and over and then hollered at Ty.
We raced to the ER with Emily wrapped in a blanket and me screaming her name over and over begging her to keep breathing. I ran through the doors of the ER as my husband parked the van. I remember telling them my baby was sick and quickly being ushered to a small room. When they removed her shirt, I could see a purple handprint on her side where my hand had been.
From there, it all became a blur. There were oxygen masks, intubation tubes, NG tubes, a warmer, and doctors and nurses all over the place. And then, there was a chaplain.
We prayed and cried and talked 90 miles an hour as questions were asked between the ER doctor and Emily’s surgeon on the phone. The LifeFlight crew finally got there from our home city, but Emily was not stable.
I remember watching the nurse do chest compressions, stop, and watch the monitor and then shake her head.
I remember seeing Emily’s little hand go limp and looking at her face and realizing her eyes were closed.
I remember thinking, “she’s gone.”
And finally, I could take it no longer.
“Give me my baby!” I yelled.
The chaplain immediately flew into action. He stopped the nurses, he got them to unhook everything. He asked for a blanket to wrap her in and she was handed to me.
It was then, the ache welled up within me and I began to wail; a primal, painful moan.
Prior to them handing me my little girl, my husband had hit the floor on his knees praying in agony. At some point, I felt him beside me as I sat there staring at her face and chest and begging her little body to come back to life. I kissed her toes and tucked stray pieces of her hair behind her ears and moaned my death cry.
My memories from there are in snippets. Sarah coming in with a look of horror on her face and asking what had happened. A call to the Krafts and Lynnette’s scream when I said, “Emmy’s dead.” A room full of friends from our old church. The chaplain asking me to let my husband hold Emmy. And finally, the children.
I did not want the children’s last memory of their baby sister to be us whisking her out the door. I did not want to come home without her. I wanted them to know what had happened. I wanted them to hold her one last time and grieve.
The hospital staff shuffled us across the hall to a private room and for the first time in 2 hours, I was able to stop crying. We told them their sister was with Jesus. We had them hold her and we took pictures.
And then, it was time to go.
The children were taken outside we were asked to give Emmy’s body to the nurse.
I wanted to die. I wanted to do anything but hand my daughter over to someone I did not know. I wanted to stay there and hold her forever. I stood there in front of that nurse in the middle of the ER hallway with other patients peeking out from their rooms trying to will myself to do the hardest thing I have ever done…walk away from my child.
I can still hear my friend Michaele’s voice in my right ear, “You can do this, Amy. It will be okay. She’s with Jesus now.” I don’t know how long I stood there. It felt like an eternity, yet not nearly long enough. And finally, I lifted Emily’s body toward the nurse. She held her arms under mine until I had the strength to place my precious child’s lifeless frame into this stranger’s arms. I let go and fell against my husband and bawled as we exited the ER.
The cold sunshine hit my face and I went numb. The next few hours were spent crying off and on as I laid on the same couch I had nursed Emily on just hours before. Kyle and Lynnette came to drive us home from there, life became a blur of visitors and funeral plans.
On February 14, 2008, we buried our fifth child, Emily Sofia.
And I will never be the same.
I encourage you to visit The Grieving Mother section of this blog if you or a loved one is grieving the loss of a child.
Thankful for Heaven. Bless you all. Saying a prayer for you right now. This definitely puts things into perspective. Emily is just beautiful.
What a beautiful girl! I am so sorry for your loss. I cannot fathom loosing a child. I am a nurse and have had to give a child who had just passed to the mother to hold and mourn. It is one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. I just don’t know what to say. God bless you and your family.
I am so sorry for your loss. I appreciate you sharing your story and letting me into your life. I sobbed, reading your story. I am praying for your family. I know that time helps heal the wounds, but losing a child is something that no amount of time can fix. I hope for peace for you and your family.
I work in a Children’s Hospital, I feel so deeply for your story and cried for your loss. May God Bless you and your angels, here on earth and with Him.
I just came across your website as a link from another and read about your large family, your homeschooling materials and then clicked on the link for this story. I, too, wept as I read this. I have prayed for your family just now and will again as I think of you. Thank you for this post and the entire blog. You are a blessing.
As I read your story of your precious loss, it brings back so much memories for me. I lost my beautiful babygirl Kayla (February 13, 2008), 1 day after you buried your Emily. My Kayla was born prematurely on February 13, 2008, at 425am…she lived for 12 hours and went back to our Lord at 430pm February 13, 2008. Like you and your husband my hubby and I cried and cried. The doctors in the NICU was kind enough to call us 30 minutes before she passed, they told us her lungs was underdeveloped and she had picked up and infection so her chances of making it thru the night was very slim, so they took her out of her little incumbator and allowed me to to hold her, I cuddled her as best I could (I ws in pain having done a c-section earlier) I saw her took her last breath. It pains me and my hubby’s heart to leave our precious bundle behind, the hospital head nurse made a video and took pics of her for us, I didnt want pics I wanted my babygirl. But these days am glad I did take the video and her pics, as she’s a constant presence in our lives. Our God is an awesome God, he doesnt give us more than we can handle, He looked down and saw the pain both little Emily and Kayla was in, and took them in his gentle arms. He has since blessed me and my hubby with our twin boys Kaleb and Kyle, and he has blessed you Amy, with the gift of bring ppl together thru this website so we can all grieve and share our stories! Be Blessed!
Terry
Read this and cried with you.. I’m so sorry for you loss. I have one angel baby in Heaven and you’re right, you’re never the same. I’ll be praying for you & your family as the anniversary comes up.
I am so glad that you know Christ… because without His Word and reassurance, it would all be just unbearable. As it is, your story and mine can have a happy ending, in spite of the tears of the past. Bless you.
Stopping over from Lynnette’s Facebook page. The tears are streaming down my face. I cannot imagine what you went through. I pray the Lord will hold you close as you approach the anniversary of your precious Emmy’s going home.
I’m sorry you lost your baby. I can’t imagine what you are feeling. I hope the pain eases over time, but I’m sure it will always be there. I hope you never ever have to go through anything like that again.
Oh what a BEAUTIFUL baby! Praying for you and your family right now, asking God to continue to comfort and surround you. Thank you for sharing your sweet Emily’s life!
I stumbled upon your blog today, and I just wanted to reach out to you on this fourth anniversary of burying your Emily to tell you that I am so sorry for your loss. May God be near to you today. May His peace consume you.
Just sobbed as I read your story. I can’t imagine what this must have been like for you and your family! I’m praying for you right now.
I happened to stumble upon your blog, as I am a new homeschooling mom! I saw a glimpse of a beautiful baby girl…& I read about her little, precious life…I am so, so sorry for the loss of your baby girl. I don’t know you or your family, but I have tears for all of you. I am praying for you all…she is absolutely beautiful. Thank you for your blog…
Your story had me sobbing, and I’m still trying to stop the stream of tears from flowing. What a painful situation. I can only imagine what you’ve gone through. My son nearly died at 6 weeks, and I remember one particularly tough night when we thought we were going to lose him, when I just sobbed in the shower in ICU. Reading your story brought those emotions back. But mine wasn’t the real story, and yours is. I’m so, so sorry for your loss of Emmy. What a precious child!
Thank you for sharing so personally. At 17 days my oldest vomited yellow…she was in a form of cardiac arrest due to SVT. Though her story has a different outcome, I know your story could be mine. Hugs and prayers…and so thankful God brings us through these horrid times.
I wish I had the words to say what I feel for you. As I sit here next to my 3 month old son I feel so heartbroken and on the other hand I am refreshed in my thankfulness to God for the health and each day he gives me with my children. Thank you for sharing your story. you are in my prayers and I will not forget your courage it took to write this post. may Jesus heal your heart and wipe away your tears
god bless
No words are enough. Just know my heart aches for you. I pray God’s mercy and comfort and strength will wrap around you at all times.
This story was so touching. Sadly, I have heard a similar story since I was three years old. My mother lost my sister when she was halfway through her fifth year. My sister, Amanda, was a very sick little girl and spent a lot of time in the hospital. My mother said the hardest thing she has ever done in her life was to walk out of the hospitial with only a suitcase. For years after she died, my mom would go to the suitcase (that stayed beside her bed) and take out all of the things that remained of my sister, very quickly and close the suitcase. When she was finished looking at the toys, little socks, night gowns, some pictures, and blanket, she would open the case and even quicker than the last time, rush the things back in. Once I asked her why she did this so quickly, she replied “I don’t want to loose her smell.” It has been 25 years since my big sister died. My daughter wore the sleeper that was in the suitcase. She doesn’t open the suitcase as much and the smell is almost gone. She can talk about her much more without crying but like you, she will never be the same. She says that somedays she smiles when she thinks of Amanda and when she talks to God about her. But other times, she wakes up and it feels like the first day without her and she is sure that she can not bare the hurt one more day. When my mom leaves this earth, I will be utterly and completely heartbroken but I will rejoice at the fact that her little girl will be waiting to usher her into heavens gates, as will your little girl. God Bless you today and for all of the days of your life.
I absolutely bawled when I read this. God bless you and your family.
I am so, so sorry. I will pray for your on going sorrows.
Cannot seem to find the right words. We are so frail and I appreciate you sharing your story and Emily’s with us, it has put things in perspective for me again. I know that may seem small but thank you.
Sobbed my eyes out. I’m 7 weeks out from my due date w/our fifth. I don’t usually read these stories since my heart doesn’t handle it well. Your story reminds me to be so grateful for my children and to love them and strive to be a better godly mom.
I’m not even sure how I stumbled onto our blog, except for that God must have led me here. Your story brings painful tears as I remembermy baby girl Brooke who went to Jesus Feb 8,2006. You speak so beautifully about your experience and I know the words I’m sorry just sound empty. I read her story and at th end you say that you will never be the same….you are so right. We have since had another child and she has brought so much joy to such a dark place, but someone is always missing…..it’s just never quite right. It has been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to grieve hard for her. Thank you for reminding me its ok to still grieve, I will never stop grieving her, even as I type this the tears are pouring. Thank you for being courageous enough to share her story with the world. May you always feel the Lord near
I read your story this morning and cant even imagine how you have coped and sirvived such a tragidy. My heart is breaking for you and your family. I lost a brother at 7 weeks old when I was 19, and have never fully recovered from it. It has effected my own parenting as I seem unable to ever really be at peace when they are sleeping, pinching them awake to make sure they are still living, watching them breath and feeling for their breath when Its too dark to see their chest rise and fall. I am not sure how your family has done it, but I admire you so much. cant even imagine
I am so sorry. She was absolutely beautiful.
What a darling, beautiful baby girl. I am so very sorry. I cried reading your story last night and each time I thought of your family today. Thank you for sharing; praying for continual healing and comfort for all of you.
Thank you so much for sharing this post! My heart grieves with you. As a mother of six little ones here with us and three in heaven and an aunt who held her niece in her arms in a NICU shortly before she went home to be with Jesus, I understand some of the pain that you have gone through. May our Heavenly Father fill you with his peace and joy.
I have a son that would be about 5 months younger than Emily. I can’t fathom what that must have been like for you as a mother. I think the strength that it took for you to tell the story is amazing and surely by God’s divine hand. I pray for your family and for you as a mother. I also pray for other mothers to see this and read your story with an open heart and remember how precious their babies are, even when they may seem bothersome. May God bless you today and always.
I cried. Emily’s story is heartbreaking, and I’m so sorry for your loss. How wonderful that you’ll be reunited again one day. I’ll be there to join in the fun.
Hugs
Lee
I was given your link by a friend who has a grief ministry for infant loss at our church. You wrote a beautiful story of your precious Emily. I wish I would have done the same. My daughter was not an infant when we lost her unexpectedly, but she had three precious children of her own, 2, 5 &7. My heart screamed and ached as did yours. Walking away from her lying on the hospital bed was excruciating. For God to take our daughter was one thing— but the call Home the mother of three precious children who needed her, was another. Does not matter the age of our child, whether 3 months and never held in our arms, full term, but not breathing; 3 months old or 5 years, or 35 or 53–we ache over their passing. And yes, we will never be the same.
Both she, and her sister, like you were/ are Home schooling moms. As a result of her loss, we are now facilitators for a GriefShare group at our church, ministering to other aching hearts. ( http://www.griefshare.org ). I’m sharing your site with my daughter who loves being a Homeschooling Mom of a large family.
Blessings to you —
I am hurting so much for you right now. I am so so very sorry for what you have suffered through. I don’t understand why God let’s these things happen to our littlest ones and to beautiful, loving parents. I mean… I do understand on a theological level, but really – I just don’t. You are a beautiful mother. And you have a very beautiful little girl. I’m so sorry.
I’ve sat here crying and sobbing for your loss. I came to your blog for help with hand-me-down management and now a sense of perspective of the moments that we have and how few they are. Praying that you continue to feel His presence and love through your loss. I have lost one baby, a very early miscarriage. I thought I was going to die. I cannot even imagine what ache resonated in your whole being. Bless you.
I just started reading your blog and came across this story. I read the entire post through tears and felt your grief as I too have lost a child. Thank you so much for telling your story and I pray God has healed the hurt in your heart from loosing your precious girl. She is absolutely beautiful and I know she is in heaven in our Father’s lap.
My deepest heartfelt sympathy. No one knows until it happens to them. Losing your baby is the unthinkable. Only loving heavenly parents can relate to hoe this feels, as they gave their only begotten son. We must lean onto them for our strength for the sake of our other children and our posterity. God bless you.