But eventually sleep overcame our mortal bodies and I awoke Wednesday morning, faced with the difficult task to bring her home.
I will openly admit I didn’t want to bring her home with us. Forgive me, Amelia, for I cried to the Lord in agonizing pain to take this trial away from me. Didn’t he long to have you back? Taking Amelia home meant that I couldn’t contain this experience to just room 16 of the labor and delivery ward, and that terrified me.
I cried all morning long. I tried to find any other solution, but our hospital stay was up and she wanted to come home.
Please don’t think I’m ungrateful. I love our daughter and feel incredibly blessed for every second she was with us. I know many others are never able to see their child alive on this earth, and I am blessed to be given the hours we had. I’m not ungrateful but I am selfish, and embarrassingly enough, in that moment I just wanted what was easiest for me to handle. Taking her home and out of that hospital room was a deep, internal struggle that came with many tears. If she came home, it solidified things. It meant she would die at home, and I wasn’t emotionally prepared for that. Couldn’t we just contain my grief and memories of sweet Amelia to one place, where it was expected?
Along with a borrowed carseat (thanks Liz!) and a few extra outfits a friend had dropped off the previous day “just in case” (thanks Janet!), my parents brought Jack that morning. I now have an even greater understanding of why the scriptures say we should be as “little children”. Jack was genuinely excited to be in the hospital and see Amelia, and because of his kind, child-like disposition I resolved to face my fears. Just as I can comfort little Jack as his mother, Heavenly Father can comfort my own fears, anxieties and insecurities. Jack got over his fear (the hospital), so why couldn’t I? Amelia was coming home with us, and there was nothing to be scared about; rather, it was a joyful occasion. Heavenly Father would help me through this. “God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” (2 Timothy 1:7) I will be honest in saying that fear did not completely escape me, but peace did overcome my feelings of anxiety and frustration as to why the Lord would let this happen, and I vowed to submit to His will. Things would happen just as the Lord wanted them to.
After setting up hospice (who would help us care for her if we needed to at home), we left the hospital around 3pm and buckled up for the quick fifteen-minute drive home.
[…] Part 4 […]
I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate the fact that you were able to share Amelia’s story. We just received our diagnosis of anencephaly less than two weeks ago and are still coping with that initial devastation. I have to confess that this part of your story touched me because I have had fearful thoughts of “What if he/she lives longer than just the few minutes or hours expected? How do we handle that?” Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing her story.
Katie, my heart is breaking for you. This is not an easy thing to go through! Please, please email me with any questions you have (alie.jonesy@gmail.com). Even if you feel it’s too personal, I would love to help you. I think it’s really neat you are looking into organ donation. If that becomes too complicated/isn’t working out, you can always donate your baby’s heart valves (tissues) after his/her death. Remember there is a purpose to this experience, even if you don’t realize it yet. If you allow it to, this baby will truly change your life in the best way possible.