Saturday, September 3, 2011

Thursday. Four Years. Forever.

2011-07-21 10.43.51

It was a Thursday evening. I was all packed up- nervously sorting lenses and memory cards; making sure that I had everything. The wedding I was shooting was for my sister's in-laws so I felt a bit of added pressure since I would be seeing these people for the rest of my life. If they didn't like what I shot, I'd feel horrible. I was always nervous before a shoot- but for this one, I was especially anxious. I heard my phone ring in the bedroom. I remember that I had plugged it into a wall outlet in the center of the room so I'd remember to bring my phone charger.

The caller ID showed my best friend's husband, Dirk's name.

Heather, my best friend since we were 18 (also a beloved member of the Mama Confessions), was almost ready to have a baby. Less than three weeks from her due date, I thought this phone call was it! Our first little one, the first baby of the next generation of our friendship was on her way! Briana Joy was on her way!

I answered with a huge smile, "Hey Dirk!"

He responded softly, "hi."

"How are you?!" Still smiling- oh, how I wish that moment could have been frozen.

"Well, I've been better."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"We lost Briana."


and with that, a cloud settled over my soul. I clutched my chest, curled up, and said all I could think of, "What? Oh no."

I don't remember what I said next, or what he said. I remember bits of our short conversation with startling clarity and bits are lost forever.

He told me Heather told him to "call Sarah" and so he did. I asked if Heather wanted me to call our other angle of the friendship triangle, Katie, and he told me he'd leave that up to me.

I asked if there was anything I could do. He said, "Pray, Sarah. Pray for Heather, she still has to deliver."

I hope I told him to tell Heather that I love her, that I'm praying, that I'm so sorry, but I'm still unsure how our conversation ended.

I do remember what happened next. As I hung up the phone, I raced into our home office where Abe was working and burst into tears, sobbing "Heather lost the baby! Heather lost the baby!"

Abe got up right away, wrapped me in his arms and held me while I cried for my "niece", and mostly for my best-friend, the girl who walked with me through ten years of life by this time; who was in a hospital room a plane ride away, listening to a silent fetal monitor.

I had all sorts of pictures pass through my head- I prayed, but prayed with a complete absence of words. I didn't know what to say to God. I cried out to him and let my tears be words- let my sobs, be petitions- let my cries, be beads of hope for a different outcome. I talked to Katie, figured out how I could get from Iowa to Atlanta in two days- as soon as the wedding was over. We decided that Dirk and Heather needed this time as parents and a couple and that we'd wait to hear from Heather before we hopped on planes to be with her.

And then, I waited.








Can your brain be nauseous? That's the only way I can describe what I felt for the next 72 hours. The next morning, still no word from Dirk, Heather or her family, I got up really early, picked up my friend who would be shooting this wedding with me, and got on the road to Iowa. I waited for news- any news. I waited for a miraculous text message claiming the impossible- that she had been born awake! Breathing!

Instead, Heather's mom called me and confirmed the unthinkable. Still no heartbeat. Still no baby. Heather was still laboring. This was Friday afternoon, September 21st, 2007. I was in a Target, buying a necklace that I could wear to the rehearsal dinner that evening. I remember sobbing in the racks of clothing in a Target in the middle of Iowa and not caring who saw me, what I looked like, what anyone thought. My best friend, the sister of my heart, was suffering in ways I couldn't even begin to understand and I wasn't there.

I shot the rehearsal dinner, the wedding, and the reception- all the while, trying to keep my head in the game. I didn't want to miss anything. I didn't want to make any mistakes. I remember I was caught off guard a couple of times where I felt the walls were closing in on me. The air was being sucked out of my lungs and I had to run outside. Yes, RUN to breathe. I cried so many times that day- in secret. It was the happiest day of the bride and groom's life and one of the darkest for me; the darkest day for someone I love very much. The only person who knew what was going on was my sister. She was a bridesmaid and had lots of duties that day and was busy and enjoying herself, as she should. I wanted so badly to lock myself up in a room and will it to be different.

I drove home the next day- Sunday. I dropped off my assistant and while I was at her door, I missed a call from Heather. The call I had been waiting for since Thursday night. I called her immediately and got her voice mail. I had called multiple times over the past two days, just to tell her that I love her, that I'm so sorry, that I'm here when she needs me and so I left another message of the same. I drove back to our apartment building and got another call from her while I pulled into the lot. That conversation changed my life.

I can't tell you what she said- I can't remember. She did tell me that Briana was beautiful, and perfect. But, I will never forget the sound of her cries. Like a wounded animal, with a broken spirit, she wept for her baby girl. The one she repeatedly said was "perfect". God, if I could have reached through the phone to envelop her, I would have. I would have broken myself to be poured through the receiver just to be with her.

We cried, and we cried; the first of many tear filled sessions for this first girl. At the end of the conversation, I asked her if she needed me to come there. I told her we'd be on the first plane, the first flight, just say the word.

"No, we're coming home."


2011-07-21 10.34.10

2011-07-21 10.33.51

With that, we now live in after. For any tragedy, there is a before and an after. I didn't know it then, but losing Briana was like an seismic anomaly- an earthquake. The actual event, while short in time, leaves the ground changed forever. There is so much more to this story, so many more details, conversations, points of gut-tearing sorrow, and improbable hope. I've tucked many of those moments into a treasure box in my heart that only Heather has access to. Some of the things I remember, we've never talked about. Some of the things I felt, we've never talked about. Even though some things are left unsaid, many things need not be spoken to be shared.

It's obvious that loss changes a person. It has changed Heather. It has changed Dirk. It has changed me. And as I experienced the miscarriage of our first baby, loss again changed me. I felt as Heather did when she was asked shortly after Briana died "how can you believe in a God who let this happen?" Heather responded as though from my own mouth, "I don't know any other way to survive."

Now, as a mama to a healthy, beautiful, breathing baby girl, loss still changes me. I see her and I see what could've been- for Briana and for our first baby. I also feel that I'm grieving for my friend again- in a valley that I didn't have access to until God brought life from my own womb. Sometimes, I ache for the empty place in Heather's heart at the most unpredictable times- at the grocery store while Gemma smiles up at me, in the front yard while she plays with grass, at night when she breathes deeply in her sleep.

I am also intensely grateful for Gemma- I'd like to think I'm infinitely MORE grateful than I could have been had we not experienced loss. I hope that I can balance the fear of the fragility of life with the joy of experiencing all the God has in store for us. I don't even know if I can put into words fully what loss has done to me as a mama. Briana is not the only loss that has changed me. Mark, Ellen, Rachel, my grandpa.. each of these lives has awakened in me questions, challenges, dashed hopes, and fulfilled dreams. On this journey of motherhood, loss always affects us, as does gain.

Loss of a job, a loved one, a promise, your health- loss is loss. No loss should ever be minimized because loss changes us even if we are unaware at the time the impact it will have on us later. It leaves behind an emptiness, a hole, if you will. That hole, never to be filled the same way or completely again. The presence of that emptiness eases some and then aches anew a moment later. The dance of motherhood is loving another while being painfully aware of the gigantic hole their absence would leave in my heart. Motherhood is walking through life with my heart beating outside my body in a now 11 month old flesh baby. Never have I felt more vulnerable and more invincible than when it comes to Gemma.

Never have I felt more empowered or more helpless, more whole or more fragmented, safer or in more danger than as a mama. I think that's because I've loved and lost. I've experienced the joy and the hope of new life and the sorrow and emptiness of a broken womb. I've lived the ecstasy of birthing a squirming purple baby and absorbed the cries of the still mama. Motherhood is delicious paradox; the best of this world, of God's hope for this creation- and the potentially most painful.

Loss has made me aware; in good ways and bad. Of the beauty and the brokenness of this place we call home. Until our Zion (our promised land) is a reality, loss will continue to burrow holes in our heart and we will continue to live swiss cheese lives. Punctured but not popped. Pressed but not crushed.

...and so I invite you to answer this question... or to share. Let this be a place where you feel safe to share and celebrate your loss. NO LOSS is unimportant- no hope dashed to be ignored. For it is in this place of deep wounds that we can most vividly experience His Holiness. God's love is a mighty tenderness to experience.

Question #5: How has loss changed you? How can we celebrate, honor life in our loss? Please feel free to share your story, answer the question, or just offer hope. I hope that you can fill holes a little bit here today.

Please, before you comment and write... please, donate to the Missing Grace Foundation in honor of Briana Joy Hanson. The webpage to visit is

here

Just click and give. Honor the loss and the life of your loved one and of Briana. She has changed us all.. no, God has changed us all through her tiny and tremendous life. I would be honored to share more of the joy that has come from her life with you. Please give.


The Lord says,
"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are ever before me.

Isaiah 49:15-16


9 comments:

  1. Thank you for the beautiful tribute to Briana. Through streaming tears I read your post and mourned by baby girl. You Sarah are the dearest friend. You are a gift to me.

    Losing Briana has made me a fighter. It has brought me to the depths of sorrow I never knew existed. It has shown me how much Jesus loves and holds me close. It has hardened my heart and made me tender-hearted. It has reminded me of how temporary this life is made me yearn for heaven even more. It has given me a ministry that I never wanted.

    I miss her so much...

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  2. I think Heather said it well when she said "[Loss] has given me a ministry that I never wanted." I agree that has been the same for my life.

    My family has been touched with altogether too much loss over the past 4 years. The two biggest losses were my brother who died at 30 from a rare form of cancer and left his wife and three girls. The second came after my water broke at 20 weeks during my first pregnancy, and our son who was named in honor of my brother went home to heaven last year.

    The losses I've experienced have made me more "gray" and less of a "black and white" person. My core beliefs have not--and will not--change, but I'm learning that Christianity is a process for everyone. We are all at different places in our walk with the Lord and we all have different challenges, paths, and ministries to face.

    I'm much more compassionate. I more fully understand how interdependent and necessary the body of Christ is. We need each other; we aren't a one-person show.

    I'm more aware of others' hurts and losses. Prior to these past four years, I wouldn't have ever thought to reach out to someone dealing with tragic circumstances (not that I was a bad person; I just didn't know any better). When I did reach out, I probably reverted to "Christianese." I now know a little bit more that people don't want to hear all the cliches. They need honesty. They need to know that people are backing them up with prayer, and people are able to help them with meals, phone calls, thank yous, whatever.

    I know I don't fully comprehend exactly what I lost with the loss of my son, but I do realize the innocence and joys of pregnancy have been tainted with the possibilities of complications and the limited activity I'm assigned to.

    One final thought: Loss makes me long for heaven. I know my brother and son and my grandma (who recently passed as well) are all waiting there and I'll get to be with them forever. I hope Jesus will return soon to take me home to be with them, but as long as He doesn't, I'll do my best to serve Him on earth.

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  3. I need to preface my response by saying that this is no offense to our author, but I can't help but think of answers to this question and feel horrible.

    In the words of Amy March from "Little Women" - "I am a selfish girl."

    I am blessed beyond measure in so many ways and still crave more, feel pressure and stress and sometimes question "Is this the life I was meant to have?"

    Selfish and horrible.

    I have too many friends who are the mothers of angels, and the while my two girls sleep soundly and safely in the next room. I guess the best way to say how loss has changed me is not by first-hand experience, but in watching the pain of others.

    Again, selfish.

    I watch an episode of "Grey's" and a parent looses a child and I'm a mess of tears - a friggin' TV show.

    It happens to a friend of mine - and friends are family to me - and I'm shaken. I would do anything to take their pain and make it all mine. I love my friends so much, that can bring me to tears some days and to think that they would hurt for anything breaks my heart.

    Their loss has taught me how to be a better person, and a better mom. I am selfish to learn from them, but at the same time, I want them to know their pain was not in vain (sorry for the rhyme!)

    I have a very vivid memory of the first Missing GRACE walk for Briana Hanson. During the remembrance ceremony, I chased after Olivia, and it hit me...

    "So many names... so MANY names."

    Here I was, sweaty and frustrated that I had to track down my child when I know there were 100s of parents who would give their right arm to be in my place. I passed her off to Nate and did my best to have my "ugly" cry in silence so I didn't disturb the rest of the ceremony.

    When it was all done, I went to hug Heather and through my tears, I told her that I thought she was an amazing mother. Do you know what she said? "YOU are an amazing mother." My idol, this women who had come from hell and back, thought I was something special. It has stuck with me, even today.

    I promise that for all you mothers out there, loss or no, you are my heroes and I am proud to know you and know your lives. You are stronger than you know and your words reach further than you can see.

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  4. This is Becky....

    {First of all, Sarah, you have a wonderful gift with words. Don’t ever stop writing!}

    I’ve lost classmates and grandparents. I watched and comforted my husband as he lost his dad (we were only dating a few months at the time). And in November ’09, I lost my first pregnancy only 5 weeks along. But God, what a wonderful few weeks it was!! I...me... Becky was FINALLY pregnant after watching all my friends, relatives and co-workers have babies. I was at the point - I couldn’t be happy for anyone when I found out they were pregnant. “It should be ME!” “It’s MY turn!!” And at last it was – a couple of months after my 38th birthday I was pregnant for the first time. I still remember when I would’ve been due 7/14.

    But God saw a different path for that baby and I miscarried later in the day after I had just grinned ear to ear and told my sister and my best friend I was pregnant. “What if I wouldn’t have told them...maybe it wouldn’t have happened.” Yeah right...I was scared to death that was my only chance for a baby and I’d just lost him/her.

    Fortunately, I got pregnant again a few months later. EVERY time I went to the bathroom for the next 9+ months, I’d check the toilet paper for spotting. I was completely paranoid it was going to happen again. It didn’t though and I now have a healthy, thriving, into-everything, almost 11 month boy! Baby #2 is now 10 weeks gestation and popping out quickly for all the world to know I’m pregnant again. Ironically, I believe I got pregnant on 7/14. Am I scared “it” might happen again...you bet! At my 7+ week ultrasound, they found the heartbeat and the Dr told me I now only had a 5% chance of miscarrying. Whew!!

    My cousin and his wife lost their baby at 5 months of pregnancy. I’d never been pregnant when they lost their baby, but now...I can’t imagine the pain they went through, and continue to go through.

    I feel for any woman who has to go through the pain of losing a child, no matter what the age. I think the best healing is to talk about loss, especially with those who have also experienced it. I couldn’t believe the support I received once people found out. Someday I might be able to counsel someone going through what I did. I can wait though...

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  5. Oh, Sarah.

    This tribute is absolutely beautiful. To live is to experience loss, isn't it? As you know, I too have walked the pain of miscarriage. I remember crying out and asking some of the same questions.

    One of my friends told me to write about it, and when I put my words down and worshiped God through writing, I began to experience healing. I can now see how God continues to use my pain to speak to others.

    I wish we didn't have to walk through loss, and yet, the mystery is that suffering develops character. And I rejoice that one day, our God will indeed make all things new.

    We will see our little ones on the other side.

    Thanks for this post!
    Mel

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  6. I have been thinking about this post of the last week since it has been up...except I did not know how to express what I want to say....so here it goes:

    Basically when Andrew and I lived in VAB we finally got t0 the time that we needed to start talking about kids...he was finally on shore duty (meaning not in and out of the house all the time on military training)....and so we decided to start trying...and 3 months later we were pregnant with Breyden....that pregnancy was easy, simple, no complications....so when I started to get the feeling that I wanted another child and after Andrew and I discussed...we tried again for number two...it wasnt even a month after I stopped my pills...we were pregnant...and everything was going according to plan but at 9 weeks I lost our first baby and then right after that we lost our second one at 6 weeks...and finally on the third time around we got pregnant with Sydney...my pregnancy with Sydney was not the same as Breydens...it was jaded...in the back of my mind I always worried that something could happen...that I may lose her as well...
    Losing my two babies has forever changed me....I can not imagine my life without my daughter...and I am thankful for both of my children that I have...but I am different...I view the world differently

    When I have heard and seen what my friends have gone through...it makes my heart hurt....I only lost two babies early on...I did not even come close to what some of them have gone through...and I hope that in some ways that I am able to support them through their journey of healing afterwards....because that is exactly what it is....there was the you before and now you are living with the you afterwards....and they are two completely different people.

    right around that time Heathers mom came into my eye clinic where I used to work...Pat and I talked for almost 45 minutes about life and about Heather and her losing Briana....I can not imagine the amount of pain and hurt that they had to go through losing a baby right at the end....I know what I went through was hard enough for me.

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  7. sorry to post again but my editing on my original post was not that great....the last part about talking with Pat happened right around the time I was 12 weeks pregnant with Syd when she came into where i used to work.

    And I want to say what a privilege it is to be able to participate in the Hope and Hearts Walk/run for Team Briana this past saturday....its an amazing way to support friends who have faced the most challenging situation in their families lives and they have been able to pick up the pieces of their hearts and move forward....I will always have the deepest amount of respect for them.

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  8. Jen here...

    Sarah, thank you for writing this. I will never forget finding out about Briana as well. TR and I were with his family and I missed a call from Dirk. It was a little weird he didn't leave a message but I was just so excited and figured there must be great news he wanted to share in person. I actually then found out what happened through an email they sent, "when saying hello is goodbye" - i still have it. my heart just sank. I was so mad at myself for missing the call but then kind of freaked out because I wanted to call back but had no idea what to say. I don't remember a lot of the conversation but I know at one point I said I would pray for you guys and he answered back with "we will pray for you as well". He said so many people were looking forward to Briana's birth and we're praying for their pain and healing. I was just floored. Dirk just lost his firstborn child and he is going to pray for me and my pain in all this. I just remember thinking that Dirk and Heather are 2 of the strongest people I have ever known.

    I personally have not had to cope with much loss in life and I am extremely thankful for that. I know how lucky I am. Often times I just find myself uncomfortable when trying to help someone who has experienced great loss because I don't know what to say. I feel like anything out of my mouth would just seem trivial or possibly even hurtful. I have no idea what they're what they're really going through.

    I guess I just want to offer support to all of you reading this that have experienced any loss. I am amazed by your strength and courage. You are all truly remarkable women!

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  9. Thank you Sarah for this blog, your questions, and your amazing gift for writing. I mostly cried through the rest of the posts, starting from Dirk's response "Well, I've been better". Heather, I think about Briana all the time, which is crazy I'm sure, but it her short life I'm sure will affect me forever. And Liz, I totally resonate with your comments about selfishness and how much more frequently I need to think of how some moms would "give an arm" to chase after a very busy, even misbehaving, alive child.

    I deal with loss of children on a daily basis. It is part of working at a Children's Hospital. The kids are really sick and our medicine isn't perfect. I am and will be forever comforted that I will see them in heaven (I don't think I could work where I work without a belief that they go to a better place) and I also believe that God works all things for some good, in some fashion, in His timing.

    I have a few personal losses, my husband's dad Tom (who I would always call "the most excited grandparent") died unexpectedly in his sleep before he met his first grandchild, Samuel Thomas (named for him). We were 18 weeks pregnant. We also lost a baby between Sam and Elin (we were about 6 weeks along). This year has been a really rough year for my "family of friends" as well... one of my friends husband died in a very tragic way, as they were packing up for their adventure around the world (literally). Another of my girlfriend's husbands died after a long battle with a chronic illness, leaving her and her twin 5 year old boys and twin 2 year old girls. I am a crier, and tend not to know what to say, and generally feel uncomfortable and like I'm failing at helping at all. And am even more clueless with dealing with my own feelings. But here is where I'm at so far...

    I agree with others who said they are more compassionate, see more "grey" and are more aware of others. I would add that all of these losses create a deep feeling of thankfulness for what I do have. After first hearing about Briana, I remember sneaking into Sam's room to watch him sleep and thanking God that he knew I was not as strong as Heather or others who deal with losing a first baby, grandbaby, and all the promise that goes with that. I remind myself to be thankful for the parents Brent and I still have, through their imperfections and faults. (And apparently, I'm not perfect and have a "few" faults as well...) After losing a pregnancy, I thanked God for a strong heartbeat in Elin (I have a home doppler and would also frequently ultrasound her at work... just to check, and praise that she was still there). And after my girlfriends loss of their husbands, I am so thankful for the hardworking husband and sweet daddy to my kids.

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