“And I will sing of, all you’ve done.
I’ll remember how far, you carried me…”
I’ll remember how far, you carried me…”
July is hard. The up and down of emotions, especially during
the first 2 weeks. It didn’t used to be this way. It used to be carefree and
easy. It used to consist of a fun holiday, sun, swimming and every summer fun
thing you can think of. Then July 4 years ago happened.
July 12 to be exact. My world shattered. The worst day of my
life. My Malachi went to heaven. After a 4 month long fight for his life in the
NICU, he was gone. Just like that. Our life on the roller coaster of NICU life
suddenly plummeted into darkness deeper than we’d known. I’d be wrong if I didn’t
say I was angry, so angry, so hurt, so confused. How could God, who knows how
painful losing a son is, allow this to happen to us? We who had been so
faithful, praying, proclaiming his promises over our son’s life, now would have
to walk life out without him here. But I learned so much. One of the most important
things I learned while walking through the valley of grief was that the same
God who formed me, the same God who made the heavens and earth; He can handle
my pain, my grief, my anger. All are welcome at his throne. That gave me
freedom. Freedom to experience every emotion, freedom to give Him the what for,
honestly, wouldn’t you? That freedom allowed me to process everything, to deal
with everything, to acknowledge everything. I had guilt for a long time. You
see something happened the night before he died. I said something that haunted
me for months and months. Let’s backup a smidge. The week before Malachi died
was a rough week. He had been doing so well, and then wasn’t doing well.
Episodes of almost losing him, bad news, one horrible report after another.
Through it all we refused to think death would be his fate, instead we held on
to hope that he would be the one who made it through. But it was a hard week.
So hard. We were so tired. Mentally exhausted from the ups and downs,
physically worn down due to staying with him nearly 24/7, while still trying to
be present for our then 3 yr old at home. My heart broke knowing he was in
pain. There was nothing I could do to make anything ok, but I did whatever I
could. Sat by his bedside for hours on end, cherished the times they let me
hold him, changed his diapers so gently. Normal mama things. But it was a hard,
hard week. The night before he died I had spent the day at the hospital with
him. We had dinner plans with some friends and decided to go to their house.
Hubby and I prayed over him as we left, he gave me a sweet smile, LaRon said it
was his way of saying “everything’s going to be ok mama”, I took a picture of
that smile, and we left. That night I was talking to my friend and I said to
her “I’m so tired, I’m so heartbroken and I can’t bear seeing him in pain. This
is my prayer right now, I want the Lord to heal him, or I want the Lord to take
him home.” The next morning, at 3:12am, I received a phone call that answered
that prayer. Not in the way I wanted or imagined, but it was answered. Jesus
had come to wrap my baby in his arms and take him home. Free from pain, free
from his broken body. I suffered guilt for uttering what I had said to my
friend that night before, maybe if I hadn’t said it he’d still be here. But
looking at it now, I believe it was the grace of Jesus. His grace had brought
me to a place to where I could say “Jesus, heal him or take him”, and mean it.
You’re not every ready to hear that your baby has died. You’re not ever ready
to walk that path of grief. But when I look back and see the goodness of God
through it all, I can still stand and say God you are so good, so incredibly
good to me.
“There wasn’t a day, that You weren’t by my side.
There wasn’t a time, that You let me fall…”
There wasn’t a time, that You let me fall…”
He has never left my side. From the minute Malachi was born,
to his final breath, walking with my in the valleys….and rejoicing with me on
the hilltops….
We received amazing news during
Christmas of 2013, we were pregnant with twins. Their technical due date was
August 8, 2017. I knew they’d come early. I prayed they wouldn’t come on July
12. I needed that day to be Malachi’s day, a day to remember him, not
overshadowed. July 7, 2017 I go into labor, the boys were coming! Such great
joy amidst mentally preparing for Malachi’s day. Our boys were born, they were
healthy. I vividly remembering hearing Justice’s cry, I turned to LaRon and
said “he’s alive” all I wanted was to hear that cry. My heart was overwhelmed
with love as both boys were placed on my chest.
9lbs combined of pure love, healing, and redemption. Justice had to go
into the NICU and it devastated me. How could I return to the place that just 2
years prior held the worst pain of my life? How would I react? Would I be able
to push through the PSTD of beeping monitors and a NICU room to see my baby, to
be there for him? I remember when they said I was well enough to go down and
visit him. I got into my wheelchair and LaRon pushed me to the elevator, my
heart raced, my breaths were short, I started to sweat. But I had to do this.
As we descended we prayed together. The doors open and I sat face to face with
the place that had been the place of so much pain. The doors opened and we
walked through them. Straight to our Justice. And he was perfect. Seeing his
perfect face, his window “seat” just like his big brother had. Every ounce of
fear was drowned out in that moment with the perfect love for my son. I wept. I
picked him up and I soaked up his newborn smell and wiped my tears off his tiny
little head. One week he spent there. The day I discharged with Josiah, we were
able to bring Josiah down to Justice and they got to be together, they instantly
cuddled and it was the sweetest sight. The anniversary of Malachi’s death occurred
during the week of Justice’s NICU stay. Enter more guilt…I couldn’t go. I
couldn’t bear to be in the NICU on the same day I last held him. I tried. And I
couldn’t. I felt horrible. The nurses (of whom almost all had been a part of
Malachi’s life!) all assured me he’d be loved on and cared for so much. They
held him and rocked him and fed him, when my grief didn’t let me. The next
morning I got the most amazing call that he was ready to come home. Our Justice
was coming home in the morning. It’s poetic if you think about it. God
orchestrated each detail to leave Malachi’s day intact, but also show His
goodness.
I will say that in my darkest moments of guilt and grief,
God never left my side. Through the hardest time He held us up. Through the
greatest joy, He stood with us on the mountaintop.
July is odd. It’s a mix of emotions of remembering the day
we said our earthly goodbye to our precious Malachi, and celebrating the day we
welcomed our twin miracles into our life. With the goodness of God and sorrow
all mixed together; I push through. Remembering Malachi’s legacy, celebrating
two baby boys who fill our lives with so much joy and healing; and pointing to
Jesus every step of the way.
“All of my life, Your love has been true.
All of my life, I will worship you.”
All of my life, I will worship you.”