Thursday, January 11

Our alarm goes off at 7am, we hurry to get ready for our 20-week appointment, where we will also find out the gender of our beloved firstborn. On the way, we’re each taking guesses of what it might be. But, nothing that morning could have prepared us for the day to come.

Sitting in the waiting room before a checkup, I was usually anxious to know if the baby is okay. But, today, I had peace. I figured we were in the clear since we are past the first trimester. In fact, we couldn’t wait to tell everyone at our gender reveal in a few days.

They call us back to the ultrasound room. This is the moment we’ve been patiently waiting for since we found out we were pregnant back in September… our honeymoon baby.

The anticipation rose, as it took the ultrasound tech quite some time to get the screen working. So she went ahead and looked first and then she was going to show us on her screen. She makes a few passes with the wand, and then I looked into her face… something was wrong. I asked her outright, “does everything look ok?” She said, “I’m going to be honest, I cannot find a heartbeat.” Those words came down on us like a ton of bricks. I’m not sure I really heard anything after that. The tech goes out to bring in a doctor. At this point, I could see that our little baby’s body was completely surrounded in fluids. It looked nothing like any ultrasound I’ve ever seen. And it just hit me, what have I done to make this happen? Of course, the doctor says it’s nothing I did, but I immediately take inventory of everything I’ve done in the past month. I mean, we heard the heartbeat four weeks ago, how could this be real?

As I’m listening to the doctor explain that it looks like it was measuring at about 17-18 weeks, I look over to see my husband heaving over a trash can. What was expected to be such an exciting day, turned into our biggest nightmare.

Eventually, we went down the hall to meet with the OBGYN. We were honestly still in shock, but the one thing I can remember her saying was you can take your time, but we’ll need to induce you for labor, that’s the safest way to remove your baby, this far along.”

Remove our baby?? No. This cannot be. I have to deliver our baby already?? I am NOT ready for this. I had put off taking birthing classes or doing much of any research until at least March when I was closer to our due date.

We were told to go home, pack a bag, and come back to the hospital when we were ready. Well, once it sunk in that I was carrying a lifeless baby, we decided we could not rest and we need to go to the hospital right away.

We walk out to the car, rain pouring down… it was like a tragic moment straight out of a movie. A few hours later, we were sitting in a hospital room, surrounded by family, but still processing what was yet to come.

After the nurses explained everything we needed to know about what to expect, I get in the dreaded hospital gown, and it all begins.

They induce me. The contractions begin. And just like that, I was labor with our first child. Hours went by, finally got an epidural for the pain, got the shakes, but the waiting is what killed us. We were anxiously awaiting the birth of our firstborn, which should have been such a happy time, but how could we be happy? I was delivering our…. dead baby. And that thought hovered over me like a dark cloud the entire night.

By 1am, I was awoken with a sharp pain, and call it mother’s intuition or what, but I knew it was time. And I just started screaming, not because of the pain, but because this is NOT how it was supposed to be. He came very quickly and smoothly, and I will never forget that feeling, that feeling of being connected by the ever so tiny umbilical cord, while he lay outside of me. What a powerful feeling between a mother and baby. And all the while, a Daddy who wasn’t sure if he would want to see it all, stepped up and was right there by our sides through it all.

For the first time, Haven Ross Bennett made his appearance into this world. He was cradled in a small little cloth that fit in the palm of my hand, and the tears just poured out. However swollen, mangled, and lifeless he appeared, this was our baby. The ten long fingers, the ten little toes. The cutest little button nose. Our flesh and blood, our firstborn baby boy.

After several hours of holding him, it was time to say goodbye. Along with our parents, we cried out to our Heavenly Father to take care of our Baby Haven, until we get to see him again.

When we said goodbye for the very last time, I can remember just laying there in the hospital bed thinking… how do I go on? I felt so lifeless, like everything good had been sucked right out of me. I just wanted to be with our little Haven up there in heaven. I begged God to take me there for a short visit, just so I could see his precious face. And, I remember seeing a bright light, but it dimmed because I needed to stay here with my loving husband. Because the only way we could get through this, was together.

Leaving the hospital several hours later, as they wheeled me out to the car, the overwhelming thought occurred to me… I was leaving the hospital… the maternity ward, after just giving birth, but I’m leaving without my baby.

The question we keep asking God is why. Why us? Why him? We think about all the what if’s, the what could have been’s, the what should have been’s. We will never see him take his first steps, hear him call us Mama or Dada, or see him off for his first day of school. It’s a loss of a child who we’ve never properly met, but oh I am so glad we at least got to see him and hold him in those few hours. But to think, the first thing he saw when his little eyes opened was the face of Jesus… brought us some sort of peace.

We share our story because we know we are not alone. We know there are others out there that go through similar pain and loss. Just know, you are not alone.

The one thing holding our broken hearts together is our faith in Christ, who is the protector, the comforter, and the healer of all our wounds. I don’t expect for the pain of our loss to ever go away, it will always be there, but I believe each day will get easier to bear as we draw nearer and nearer to Him.

“Tears are prayers too. They travel to God when we can’t speak.” Psalm 56:8

“Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, before you were born, I set you apart.” -Jeremiah 1:5