Your Beautiful Birth Story

My sweet Morris,

Today marks a week since we delivered you into the world knowing that we would have to say goodbye too soon.  It seems odd that both so much and so little time could have passed since that moment.  It seems even odder that the world could go on spinning without you.  People who have experienced similar losses have told me that journaling helps ease the pain.  I figured it is worth a try.  There is so much that I want you to know and that I will only ever get to tell you in these letters now.  

One day, I'll share with you about the terrible day before your birthday....the day that they told me that you were no longer with us.  But not today; I can't bear the pain of thinking about that day right now.  It seems appropriate that today, on my birthday, I share with you the beautiful story of your own birth.  

I remember every detail of your birthday, the hard parts and the beautiful parts.  The hard parts started early.  Your daddy had set an alarm for just before 6 AM so that we could call the hospital.  When it went off, he went out to the kitchen and made the call.  I laid in bed listening to him on the phone and sobbed.  It seemed so unimaginable and impossible.  Your daddy came back into the room and sat down on the bed beside me.  We cried together for a few minutes before he helped me get up and take a shower.  I don't know how we went through the motions of getting ready that morning. I think we were both still in shock from the day before.  As I got dressed, your daddy packed the hospital bag that I had planned to pack in the coming week.  I don't know how he did it, but he went into your nursery and got the clothes we had bought for you to wear home and picked out a blanket to wrap you in after you were born.  The night before, he had washed and dried the special hospital gown that I had bought to wear for your birth, and even though I didn't think I wanted to wear it, he packed it in the bag just in case.  I'm so glad he did.

When we were driving to the hospital, I remember staring at the oncoming cars and wondering where the people inside of them were going.  Didn't they know that you were gone?  How could they be going to work or to school or to the grocery store like it was a normal day?  I remember saying to your daddy, "It isn't very often that you wake up knowing that today is going to be the worst day of your entire life."

At some point in the drive, I remembered the prayer that I had prayed with you the day before.  I had bought this prayer book when I first found out about you.  It contained a prayer to read everyday for the entire 40 weeks of pregnancy.  The last prayer I had read was on Monday morning before I left for the doctor's office, and it had contained a scripture that at the time seemed so odd to include in a pregnancy prayer book.  I had actually looked up a word from the scripture to make sure I was understanding it.  I got out my phone to re-read the prayer.  The scripture was Psalm 94:19:  "When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul."   I know deep in my heart that it was no coincidence that I bought that specific prayer book to read during my pregnancy, that it contained that particular verse, and that I read that exact prayer the morning prior to your birth.  It was a gift from God.  It didn't happen immediately, but reading that scripture on the way to the hospital changed our perspective. Your birthday went from what would have been a day of sorrow to being a day of immense joy and peace.

We got to the hospital and held hands as we walked through the door and made our way to the Birthing Suite.  Your Gramy and Papaw were there with Pastor Todd and his wife Karen.  I told them about the verse.  There were tears and prayers in the waiting room before we checked in.

Oh Morris, we were so very unprepared for the questions we were asked that morning.  What funeral home did we want to use?  Did we plan to have you baptized after you were delivered?  We had written a birth plan a week prior to your birth, but none of these things were in our plan.  Nothing about that day was in our plan, but thankfully my sweet baby,  it was all in God's plan.

I don't know exactly what time it was, but sometime mid-morning after being induced, I looked up at your daddy and said, "Today is the day that we are going to meet our baby...the baby that we prayed for, the baby that was alive and that I carried for 8 months. I cannot bear for this to be a sad day.  There will be plenty of time for sadness tomorrow and every other day for the rest of our lives.  But I need today to be a happy day.  Our baby deserves a happy day on his or her birthday".  Your daddy, showing the same strength he had shown since Monday, simply said, "Okay.  It is going to be a happy day."  We told everyone that came into our room after that point - the nurses, the midwife, family and friends - that we were going to make the day as happy as it could possibly be.  I wish I could say that it was our strength and faith that allowed us to be happy in the midst of such a sad time, but the credit goes to God.  There were prayers going up from literally hundreds of people all day on your birthday, and that's what made it possible for the day to be one of celebration.  Those prayers led to other blessings we received that day too - my midwife Mary showing up that morning to deliver you instead of the doctor we had just met the day before, the unbelievable care  and compassion that we received from our team of nurses Dylan, Megan and Amanda, and the private waiting room with food that the hospital set up for our family.  One of the biggest blessings is that we were able to get answers after your birth about how this happened.  We will probably never know or understand the why, but knowing the how has at least brought some comfort.

You were delivered into this world at 11:17 PM.  Your daddy watched you being born, and the look of pride on his face when he saw you is something that I will always treasure.  Your daddy was the one to get to tell me that you were a boy - one of the only things that went as we had planned it.  We laughed because we had a feeling the entire pregnancy that you were a boy, and we were right.  Your name, Morris Keith, is so very special to us.  We had other names picked out, but we had decided earlier in the day that they weren't special enough for you.  Your name honors someone who greeted you in heaven (your great-grandfather, Hiram Morris Knopp) and someone who loves you from here on earth (your papaw, Bryan Keith Bottenfield).

I'll never forget the moment I first saw you.  You were so beautiful, so perfect, and so peaceful.  Mary wrapped you in a blanket and gave you to me.  Those first moments with you are etched in my heart forever.

Shortly after your birth, your Gramy and Papaw, Bball and G-Daddy, Aunt Becca, and Pastor Todd joined us in the delivery room.  They all held you and loved you.  Your Aunt Becca helped me sing the chorus to "How Great is Our God", which is the song I sang to you many mornings as I got ready for work.  Pastor Todd performed the most beautiful baptismal service.  There was so much love and peace in that hospital room.   I don't think it could ever really be appreciated or understood except by those of us that were blessed enough to experience it.  After everyone left, your daddy and I spent time holding you, kissing you, singing to you and talking to you.  We said our final goodbyes to you the next morning.  We will have never spent enough time with you.  Our goodbye was a perfect one though, and your daddy and I have such a peace about it.

Your daddy surprised me on Friday with a beautiful amethyst necklace - your and my birthstone.  He asked me if I knew what the stone meant...I laughed because I didn't know that birthstones had meanings.  It turns out that the amethyst is a meditative and calming stone which works in the emotional, spiritual, and physical planes to provide clam, balance, patience, and peace.  All things that I really need right now.  He gave me a gorgeous matching ring for my birthday this morning.  Your daddy is really amazing.

This week has been the hardest week of our lives.  Your birth was beautiful, but the sadness is real now that you are gone.  It sounds cheesy and cliche, but even knowing what we now know and going through all this pain, we wouldn't change things for the world.  Morris, you have made us so much stronger.  I know that we will get through this together and with you as our Guardian Angel.   We love you so very, very much.

Love,

Mommy