By Matthew Engesser
“It feels like God is crying with us,” I told my wife on our drive through a gentle rain to the hospital. The rest of the world seemed to be going on around us as if it were just another morning, but it was far from that for us. Our eyes were filled with tears, because it was the day we were going to the hospital to deliver our baby. Our sadness was that we knew our baby’s heart was no longer beating and that only his tiny body remained. Funny how your life can be turned upside down when you least expect it.
My wife, Katie and I were high school sweethearts and always wanted a big family, so when we struggled to conceive our first child, it was heart-breaking. Eventually God did bless us with two beautiful children! We have always been open to life, so one morning when our youngest was in pre-k, Katie casually shared that she could be pregnant, I cautioned her to not get excited as the odds were not good given our history. Later that day my phone buzzed during a work meeting. Katie had taken our daughter, Annabelle, to the zoo, so I assumed she was sending me a picture of Annabelle with some monkeys. Was I surprised to see a picture of a positive pregnancy test! I quickly found a quiet space to call home. We were both so elated!
This pregnancy did not start out easily. There was some bleeding and fear in the beginning, but our doctor assured us that things were looking good, so at the 12-week mark we joyfully shared our excitement with our children! They could not wait to have a baby sibling!
We had no worries as we prepared for our 16-week appointment. Katie had even felt our baby do a big summersault move days before. Then tragedy struck. Devastation crept in as first our doctor and then the sonographer could not locate a heartbeat. We were engulfed in grief as we sat there looking at the ultrasound image of our motionless baby. I held Katie and tried to be strong and comforting, but the truth is we both were overwhelmed with pain and sadness. All the lost moments with this precious baby--all the dreams and memories that were never to come.
Back at home we now faced helping our children navigate this shattering loss. I told them God always hears our prayers, but sometimes does not give us what we ask for. Isaiah, my 6-year-old son, cried for the next 10 minutes saying he did not want our baby to die. Our four-year-old daughter however, did not cry despite previously being the one more outwardly excited. Still she had tears in her eyes and seemed so mature, telling us that our baby was in heaven now. I knew she was also hurting inside and I tried to comfort and hold them both. This was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.
That night I told our children a bedtime story about two caterpillars who were excited that a new caterpillar was going to join their family. They wanted to make paintings and play soccer with this new caterpillar who was wrapped in a cocoon. Then one day the cocoon was empty, and they were very sad. Looking up they saw a beautiful butterfly soaring overhead who told them he was the caterpillar from the cocoon but now he had wings. He assured them they would be together someday, but for now he would always be flying over them. And even if they could not see him, they could still talk anytime they wanted.
It was a dark next couple days as we waited to be induced and deliver our baby-our Emmanuel. Katie’s friend was scheduled to have her baby the same week at the same hospital, and my wife was determined to not have both events on the same day. We did want to deliver our baby, however, and give him a proper resting place. The waiting was hard and I so wished I could take away Katie’s pain. Childbirth is painful and scary enough, but to anticipate and go through it knowing that in the end you will be holding a lifeless body and have to say goodbye is an unbearably cruel reality.
My emotions came to a head one night during my regular Adoration hour. I had some choice words for Jesus as I knelt there before Him. “My baby and wife don’t deserve this and I don’t understand this… You’re wrong!” I told him. I was sad and frustrated and felt alone. Then I randomly opened up a book with writings from the diaries and visions of Saint Faustina and read the following:
“...At the moment of apparent absolute destruction, my mission, now no longer hindered by anything, will begin.… although many persons will oppose it, nothing will change God's will. (1388)
He allows certain difficulties precisely for our merit, so that our fidelity might be clearly manifest. And through this, I have been given strength for suffering and self-denial. (1409)
So today I submit myself completely and with loving consent to Your holy will, O Lord, and to Your most wise decrees... though at times I neither understand nor fathom them. (1450) “
I knew what Jesus was telling me through these words. He was saying, “Trust me,” and I wanted to, but it is not easy when everything feels so wrong. At the time I certainly did not have that “complete” consent to His will, but prayed that God would give me and my family the grace to get there.
It helped knowing that we had people praying for and supporting us. Isaiah’s kindergarten classmates at St Hubert Catholic School made us letters with pictures, telling us they were praying for our baby and family. Fr. Tollefson recommended a funeral home, and we arranged a burial service in our church’s cemetery.
Finally, we were making the drive to the hospital to deliver our baby. I do not know how Katie got through this day but she was amazing and will always be my hero. When our son greeted the world in silence, we took some time to admire his perfection--God’s perfection. So many emotions came over me. I felt relieved that Katie was physically through the worst part of this experience, excited that we were now seeing our little child who had become such a huge part of our lives, and experienced immense sadness knowing that our child was gone along with so many dreams.
Our baby looked so innocent and tiny all curled up. Katie’s water never broke, so the sack the baby was in lay in front of us offering a surreal look into life before birth. Yes, we had seen ultrasound pictures and artist renderings, but to physically see our baby in this transparent protective ball was an amazing experience. I cut the tiny cord and we saw that our baby was a boy. We held our little son’s body and touched his perfect fingers. His mouth had a little smile that reminded me of our other children. Our baby was a perfect little person. I did not know how I would feel holding him, but when I did I broke down and sobbed. Part of us was gone and I was not ready to say goodbye.
There was a certain emptiness as we got back in our car. The rain was still falling and we said very little on the way home. When we were just a few minutes from our house, the rain let up and we saw a faint rainbow ahead of us. It was a little sign that meant so much. It was like our baby boy was trying to comfort us in our grief and to let us know that he was all right and that we would be too.
The next day, surrounded by our closest family, we buried our sweet baby in the infant section of the St. Hubert Cemetery. It brings us comfort to be able to visit a physical place, to feel close to him and to remember. As crushing an experience as this was for us, having our Emmanuel for even a short time was a blessing. He taught us so much about life and how we all need to live each day to the fullest. He taught our children about a powerful, unconditional love--the kind a family can only experience when journeying through a deep grief together.
Through our faith, we know this separation is only temporary and that brings much comfort! Emmanuel is forever in our hearts until we meet again.