Sweet 16

Journal entry by Ann — Feb 20, 2019
February 27, 2003, began with a drive up north, checking into the hospital, and preparing to meet my baby boy. With this being my third child my heart filled with anxious thoughts, nervous tummy, and excitement. Mostly cause you know what to expect and how hard the labor can be. As the day goes on the exhaustion sets in. After 8 hours I’m ready for this to be done.

Logan’s journey into this world was almost just as difficult as his going out. The stress of the room was high. People bustling about in preparation for him to be born. I could tell something was wrong, but not aware of what it was. Of the many voices spoken in the room I only heard my doctor commanding that I push right now and a foolish family member say, “I hope he makes it.” Though there was chaos in the room it fell silent. I looked to see my baby’s limp, lifeless body handed across my leg to the nurse. My head fell heavy back to my pillow, I prayed, and wept. My doctor kicked the family member out of the room and sternly told me to pay attention to her voice. Though her words faded into the background noise as my thoughts drifted to them working on my baby to breath life back into his lungs. I wasn’t aware of what they did. I didn’t see the process. All I know is my heart was heavy with the thoughts that I could go home with no baby in my arms.

Finally Logan was laid in my arms. I just stared at him. His eyes were puffy and his face was a strange shade of blue from lack of oxygen. He didn’t cry when he was born, thoughout his days, or really even vocally make you aware of his needs. I thought that was so strange all babies cry, but I came to realize that was just him. As he grew it still took him a lot to cry. Though when it came to matters of the heart he could shed a tear much easier. I think God had given him a high pain tolerance in preparation for his birth, life, the many medical procedures, and in his death.

Oh, how I dislike writing the words “his death.” The other day I was looking through his papers and saw his birth certificate and death certificate in the same folder. Every emotion you can imagine erupted and spilled out in a matter of seconds. I surprised myself at the reaction I had. It can feel as though we are wronged when a child dies young, but also before us.

Logan brought so much joy, snuggles, and laughter to our house. He could be so silly and he had the best laugh. Though he was very serious when it came to doing right or wrong. If it didn’t follow the Bible he wasn’t doing it and he would quickly give you the same advice. We were blessed to have him even for a short time.

Another difficult day will be his 16th birthday. It’s coming and my mind can’t help but wander to all the new things he would be doing. He would be in 10th grade, wow! He would have already gotten his permit and getting ready to get his drivers license. He’d be venturing out with his buddies and gaining a new sense of independence. His voice would be deepening with manhood fast approaching. There is so much more that I will never get to know.

In losing a child their is grieving the loss of what you had. The new things that could have and should have been. And a sadness over the future and what would have been. And the always unanswered questions. What would he have looked like as a adult? How tall would he have really gotten? Would there be a wife? Children? Or would he be a hermit making weapons in the woods to sell? The open ended questions stir my heart with a deep longing to know those answers and for him to be here.
Though I imagine God gently reminding me, “Ann, I cherish him and I am lovingly watching over him. Thank you, Ann, for taking care of my son, investing in him, and preparing him so I could take him home.”
Love and hugs, Ann