~by Chantal

“We think we have chosen our peers. In reality, a few years’ difference in the dates of our births, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another, posting to different regiments, the accident of a topic being raised or not raised at a first meeting – any of these chances might have kept us apart. But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking, no chances. A secret Master of the Ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples “ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you,” can truly say to every group of Christian friends “you have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another. The Friendship is not a reward for our discrimination and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each the beauties of all the others.” –CS Lewis, The Four Loves, p. 85

Choice friends cross our life path at unexpected times and often in ways we don’t recognize at first. Severall years ago, my dear friend-to-be, Cindy, served as the Stake Relief Society President and is a midwife by profession. We had a Stake Relief Society service project in conjunction with the Relief Society broadcast that was no different than many others I’d attended over the years. And yet, this event would end up being a significant experience in the tapestry of my life.

This particular Saturday, we had gathered donations and were assembling birthing kits to go to Mozambique, Africa. Cindy had joined a medical team to give training to traditional birth assistants in rural Mozambique. These kits included a sheet of plastic (for the mother to lie on the ground), a shoe string (to tie off the umbilical cord), a razor blade, and several disinfectant wipes. She then showed a video from her experience there. I cried for the mothers in Mozambique. How is it possible that nearly half of the almost 6 billion people of the world live today in such abject poverty?

A few months later, in my role as Primary President in my ward [local congregation], we were setting up for a Primary activity. I was expecting our 5th child and had to leave early and to go to a doctor’s appointment for a routine monthly checkup — which I felt was a waste of time.

But this checkup turned out not to be routine at all. There was no heartbeat.

Ultrasound confirmed our baby had died inside of me. After a difficult induced delivery, our baby daughter, Ann, was born four days later with a kink in the umbilical cord. We held her, dressed her and buried her in the dust of the earth.

Here I became acquainted with death, grief, and God.

I am always astounded at the depth of pain I felt for a little one I had for such a short time. This heart-searing pain came from the depth of love a mother has for her baby, given only by God. My greatest desire was to hold, love, raise and nurture this beautiful daughter.

Grief was a confusing mystery to me. The anger, the depression, the forgetfulness, the loss of time and motivation all came in waves I did not recognize or understand. Most surprising to me was also the loss of self-esteem and confidence. It doesn’t seem to be mentioned much. But all that I was, all that I knew, all that I believed was crushed into tiny pieces, mixed together and left in a pile of mess at my feet. How do I begin from there?

I won’t go into much detail on the year following except to say that after much fasting, prayer and a priesthood blessing we decided to have one more little baby. Not to replace our little girl, for no one will replace, but we felt to move on. In full confidence and faith we were delighted to learn another little daughter would join our family. Having paid my dues to death and with such astronomical medical odds of such a problem, I moved on in courage, not fear, and hope.

But again at a regular appointment in nearly identical fashion and timing, there was no heartbeat. It had never even remotely crossed my mind that this could happen again. The surprise and shock was more than I could wrap my mind around. There are no words to express the stunned crushing blow that moment held. I literally thought my own heart would stop and I would die of pain on the spot as I collapsed to the floor. It is far more horrific when you know what is ahead and I was hysterical. I learned that death twice is exponentially more painful and difficult.

I fought depression with anger. I was mad. Mad at the world, mad at people, mad that I would have four out of six children to raise here on earth. Logically, I understood everything about the plan of salvation but my heart would not match my logic. The river of emotions came despite my knowledge and faith. It was several years but felt like a lifetime. I felt 90 years old. Then I was numb. I felt nothing. I wondered if as a mother I could ever find joy after such grief or if I would have to die first. I prayed many times my other children would forget and not be too damaged from the difficulty of those years.

Here is where my friendship with Cindy changed my life….

(Please follow this link for Part 2.)

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I was putting dishes away today listening to the lyrics of a song that say “He knows your name, He knows who you are, each son and daughter, and every last star” and I was reminded of an experience that let me know that God knows exactly who I am, what I am doing, and what I need.

In August 2006, my husband and I were introduced to a woman who asked us to adopt and parent the twins she was carrying. We had been praying for a short wait in our adoption journey, and this was it! We knew who our babies were going to be, and they were due in just a month. We were ecstatic, excited and eager to meet the babies. We already felt connected to them – the birthmom didn’t know the sex of either baby, but we had a strong feeling that they were both boys, and that they were meant to be in our family.

We flew across the country in September to meet the birthmom, and help her in the last weeks of her pregnancy. Our first meeting was at a restaurant, and we got along with her, her daughter and her grandparents right away. Everything felt so comfortable and so right. When we took her to her doctors appointment on September 30th, we had no idea that the end of the day would end with the babies being born. The doctor had us take her straight from his office to the hospital. I sat with her for most of her labor, and we got to know each other very well. When it was time for our birthmom to be wheeled into the operating room for her C-section, I paced the halls nervously, waiting for word that everything was ok with all three of them.

Shortly, I found out that everything wasn’t just ok, it was perfect. I was called into the nursery to hold the sweet babies, both boys, just minutes after their birth. They were beautiful. The phrase “my heart was full” seems trite, but there is no other way to describe it. Late that night, my husband and I drove back to our hotel room, full of joy and thinking about names.

We visited the babies in the hospital over the next few days. On our last visit, the birthmom made sure we were coming back the next day with car seats – “you can’t make me take these babies home! They are your babies!” she reminded us.

So when we returned to the hospital that one last time, where the babies mother told us that she had changed her mind and no longer wanted to place them for adoption, we were heartbroken. Lost. Devestated. We fed them and loved them and held them and named them. And now they were gone. Not ours.

We returned to the hotel. I was a sick, sobbing mess. I was angry and hurt and sad and scared and upset. Finally I fell to my knees, next to my husband, and we prayed; begged the Lord for comfort. A few minutes after we closed our prayer I was lying alone on the hotel bed, trying to compose myself. I heard words in my head, and it took me a little while to figure out that they were the words of a hymn that the Lord was putting in my mind to comfort me.

The hymn is How Firm a Foundation (page 85) and the words were these, from verses 3 and 4:

Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed,
For I am they God and will still give thee aid.
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by my righteous omnipotent hand

When through the deep waters I call thee to go.
The rivers of sorrow shall not thee o’erflow,
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee they deepest distress

With those words I was able to pull myself together, feel some comfort and do what needed to be done.

Fast foward two years. The birthday of our not-sons fell on a Sunday that year. I had been thinking about them for the month leading up to the day, even more than I did normally. That morning, I woke up, almost hesitant to go to church because I was worried that I would fall apart crying with sadness and embarass myself. I prayed that I would have the strength to get through the day. I got myself and my children dressed, in the car, and we left for church.

I sat down just in time for church to start, and when the organ started playing the opening hymn, I lost it. It was How Firm a Foundation, the same hymn that was an answer to my prayers two years ago that day, the hymn that gave me more comfort and peace than anything as I walked through the hardest trial in my life.

Coincidence? Not a chance. God knows me. He knew what I needed when the words to that hymn were put into my mind the first time on that September day. He knew what I needed two years later – not just continued peace, but the knowledge that God knows me and what I need.

He knows you, too.

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