Happy Sixth Birthday Benjamin!

My son turns six today. but he is not here with me to celebrate.  He left us shortly after birth.  This is his sixth Heavenly Birthday...and he is celebrating with Jesus again, and my dad, and now my father-in-law, who joined them the day after Thanksgiving.

Usually, at this time of year, I am a wreck....the build up to the day is always harder than the actual day itself.  But this year, I'm at peace.  Oh, I have my days when I cry and cry about him.  He is missed every day.  He would have been in kindergarten this year.  His sister misses him and wishes he were here to play with her.  Our family will never be complete.  Well, that's not exactly true.  We will one day.  When Jesus calls us home, we will finally be a complete family, living forever with God, in the place He makes for us. 

Until that happens, we will continue to miss our little boy.  We will have cake and ice cream for him, sing Happy Birthday and release a few balloons, sending our love to him.  We will continue to talk about him with E, keeping his memory alive.  Others in our family may not remember him, but he will not be forgotten.

Happy Birthday Benjamin.  Daddy, Mommy and E miss you very much.  We will see you again.  Until then, give Papa and Grandpa Nick big hugs for us.

Who's In Control Anyway?

If I ever thought that I was in control of my life, the events of December 7, 2003 proved to me otherwise. But the story doesn't start there. It really starts earlier, back to the spring of 2001. My husband-to-be and I had talked several times about whether we would start a family once we were married. I was 39 and already had a 15 year old son that I had raised alone since birth. I thought I was too old to start again with kids. My husband had never been married and did not have any children of his own. Although he would have liked to have children, he listened to my concerns and accepted my eventual decision to not have any more children. Shortly after we were married, however, I started to have a change of heart. We talked again about starting a family and agreed to put it in God's hands, accepting whatever He decided, not knowing how hard that was going to be.

After almost two years of "trying" with no success, we figured that God's plan must not have included any children for us as a couple and in our minds, we moved on, content with my son and our two dogs and two cats. But we were wrong. At end of July 2003, I started feeling nauseous and took a pregnancy test. My husband was already in bed. Instead of waiting the recommended three minutes, I looked immediately, saw the test was white and left the room. I went back and checked a while later and even though it is not recommended to read a test after about 10 minutes, I looked anyway and the test was positive! I woke my husband up and showed him the test. He drove to a 24hr. drugstore in the middle of the night to get pregnancy tests. Four home pregnancy tests later, we finally believed that what we had hoped for was coming true...I was pregnant!!

Whoever decided to call the pregnancy nausea "morning sickness" really had no idea. Like my first pregnancy, I had nausea day and night into the 2nd trimester, then started feeling better around 16 weeks. We had ultrasounds at 6 weeks (to determine a due date) , 14 weeks (due to a very slight bleed one day) and 18 weeks (our Level II ultrasound), all indicating that Ben was growing normally.

On Monday, December 1, 2003, I started bleeding. I went to Labor and Delivery, at which time another ultrasound was done. To our relief, Ben was doing fine. However, my cervix was already dilated to 1cm. I was put on Magnesium Sulfate for 24 hours to stop any contractions I was having. The pain was intense, like someone sitting on my chest, but I was willing to go through it if it meant Ben would be ok. The next morning I was taken off the MS but stayed in the hospital for observation the remainder of the day. At 7 p.m. Tuesday evening, the doctor decided I could go home on strict bed rest.

For the next four days, my husband and son took care of me, cooking meals for me, getting books from the library, cleaning the house and doing laundry. Jake and Luke (our Labrador Retrievers) spent those days up on the bed with me. Jake, especially, is very tuned into how I'm feeling. He has always known if I was sad or upset and loves to snuggle up close to me to comfort me.

On Saturday, December 6, 2003, I was experiencing an extremely sore back. I was unaware that this was an indication of premature labor. Several hours later, I was bleeding slightly, so I called my doctor, who did not feel I needed to go to the hospital. So I laid down and tried to sleep.

Around 1:30 a.m. on Sunday, December 7, 2003, I awoke with what felt like contractions. I timed them for a while...they were 5-6 minutes apart. I called the doctor who told me to meet her at Labor and Delivery. When we got there, I was examined by my doctor, who told us the devastating news that I was already dilated to 4cm and that there was nothing she could do to stop my labor. Our baby would be born, and at 22 weeks gestation, would not survive. The hospital did not have an advanced neo-natal unit that could handle babies born before 24 weeks gestation. I wish I had known this beforehand as I would have had my husband take me to the hospital in our county that might have been able to save him!

After an hour of getting poked and prodded for an IV and another hour waiting for an epidural, I was finally feeling no physical pain....but the emotional pain was just beginning for us. To know that you would give birth to a baby that would not survive is an indescribable pain. We were blessed to have a wonderful nurse sit with us. She had lost a daughter at 20 weeks gestation several years ago, so she knew first-hand what we were experiencing. Having her there with us, holding my hand, coaching me through the delivery meant so much to us. In fact, the entire nursing staff, as well as my doctor and the anesthesiologist, were very kind and compassionate towards us, helping us to make it through this terrible day.

At 10:38 a.m. on Sunday, December 7, 2003, our much loved and anticipated son, Benjamin Edward Chapman was born. He weighed 1 lb. 4 oz. and was 11 inches long. Ben was born alive, and we got to hold him in our arms. He was perfect in every way...and was a carbon copy of his daddy, from his nose and lips, to his hands down to his feet. Shortly after his birth, with his daddy holding him, Benjamin leapt into the arms of Jesus.

Later, we received the pathology report and found out that Ben's premature birth was caused by a massive Group B Strep infection which had breeched the placental barrier, as well as his umbilical cord. Group B Strep is not even routinely tested for until the end of a pregnancy. I never heard of this until it happened to our son!

It's been almost six years now that Ben has been gone. We're not angry with God. We never asked "Why us?" We did ask "Why at all???" Why give us this precious little boy, only to take him from us. God gently reminded me that we had agreed to accept whatever His plan was for us. He is in control. Romans 8:28 says "In all things God works for the good of those who love him." So through the pain, through the tears, we gave Him the glory. We have faith. Ephesians 6 says "Now faith is the reality of what is hoped for, the proof of what is not seen." We KNOW we will see Ben again and what a reunion that will be!

Life and Death

In the last six years, two people who are forever intermingled in the fabric of my life have died. Oh, there have been many that are part of my extended family that have passed away. However, these two people, one in their 70's and one just minutes old, were so precious to me. My father, George, helped give me life and my son, Benjamin, I helped to give life. Both of them taken before I was ready to let them go.

My father lived a long life, but he had five children and 21 grandchildren who loved him and whom he loved and 77 years was just not long enough. Today is the four-year anniversary of his death. I was not there when he died. The rest of my family was, but I live out-of-state and could not get there in time. My mother kept telling me it was ok, that he knew how much I loved him. But I did not get to say goodbye. We had just been up to visit him and my mother just three weeks before he passed. It was the first time I had seen him in four years and it was the first time he held his granddaughter. My dad loved babies...LOVED them. My mom said that week we were there was the best week my dad had had in a very long time. My dad was not big on showing affection, but we said we loved each other as I was leaving to head back home and we planned to meet up half-way between our homes after he had his knee surgery. Three short weeks later, he was dead. I miss him so much.







My son Benjamin, born at just 22 weeks gestation, lived just minutes before leaping into the arms of Jesus. Only minutes to memorize his face. Not long enough. Only minutes to hold him, love on him, kiss him. Not long enough. And then he was gone.



Almost six years later, and the pain sometimes is as if it just happened. Today is one of those days. School is getting ready to begin. Parents are shopping for clothes and school supplies, gearing up for fall sports and other activities. But we're not. Ben would have started Kindergarten this year. Another first we do not get with him. No getting him dressed the first day, taking his picture the first day of school, walking him to school, getting him settled into his classroom, greeting him at the end of the school day and seeing what he thought. No soccer or basketball or football or at night. It hurts. But you know what hurts too? Not being able to talk about him. Not having anyone out side of my husband and daughter and I, even acknowledge he existed. Even my own son doesn't talk about him. Can I just tell everyone, please, please, PLEASE, let me talk about my son. Please acknowledge that he existed. You don't have to say a lot. Really, just "I'm sorry" is enough. Please don't tell me he is in Heaven and is better off and I will see him again. I know that. I KNOW that. I BELIEVE that. But it doesn't make it any easier or less painful. Not when these "first" happen. I miss my little boy...more than I could ever say.