Nathan Andrew - 12/19/82

I first shared this post back in 2011. I have published it several times since, updating the number of years since it happened each time. For those that have been around a while, my apologies. You're probably sick of reading it, but, for me, it's all I have...so, yes, I am sharing the story again.

It was 35 years ago at this very time that Nathan Andrew was born. Something had been wrong for a very long time. I had been bleeding off and on since my second month of pregnancy...at times very heavily.

On the 18th of December I was out Christmas shopping with my mother, my aunt, my 1 1/2-year-old daughter, and my three little cousins. All of a sudden I went into labor. My aunt took my daughter home with her and her children, and my mother rushed me to the hospital. Next thing I knew I was being strapped to a gurney and was being shipped by ambulance to a bigger hospital...one that was attached by a walkway to Children's Mercy in Kansas City. Even though I had been given a lot of medication and was pretty much out of it, I could hear the doctors and nurses talking. If they didn't get me to the other, better equipped hospital soon, they were going to lose me AND the baby. It was one of the most frightening experiences I've ever had. All I could think about was what would happen to my little daughter at home if I died.

I arrived at the other hospital in record time and was immediately surrounded by all sorts of doctors and nurses. I was plugged into every kind of equipment they had...which wasn't nearly as good as the equipment that they have now, but, at the time, it was state-of-the-art. Immediately, the head doctor wanted to know who my doctor was and how long I had been bleeding. She said that the placenta had torn away from the uterus wall and that this baby should have been "taken" months ago. What was she talking about? I would never have allowed my baby to be "taken!"

Long story short...27 hours of intense labor later (I had been given every kind of pain medicine available and nothing seemed to be helping) Nathan Andrew was born...in the hallway on the way to delivery. He was immediately rushed across the walkway to Children's Mercy and I was taken on into delivery where a DNC was performed. A few hours later the doctor came into my room with a nurse who was carrying my baby. Nathan had fought hard and lived for two hours, but his lungs were just too little. Now days they probably could have saved him, but, back then...there was nothing they could do. There was just nothing that they could do. 😢

Nathan was perfectly formed. He had long, black hair, perfectly formed features, perfect, tiny, little fingers and fingernails...toes and toenails...on the outside he was just that...perfect! Tiny, yes (he was 10 inches long and he only weighed a pound)! But still...perfect.

Not having money for a funeral left me with few choices. I would not be allowed to leave the hospital without signing papers for Nathan's body to, either, be donated to scientific research, or be cremated in the hospital crematory. Not wanting to do either I chose the lesser of the two evils...the hospital crematory. To this day I regret that, but I don't know what else I could have done under the circumstances. It still hurts me beyond anything that I could ever express and there's never been anywhere to mourn Nathan's loss. I came home on Christmas Eve with two very blurry pictures, a set of tiny footprints on a piece of paper, and a poem that the hospital chaplain had given me.

I've never written about all this before, but, tonight, I felt a need to do so. Perhaps there is someone else out there who has been through a similar experience...someone who needs a word of encouragement. Even though all that I went through was, and still is, very sad...there are two things that have ministered to me over the years since Nathan's death...

#1 - The poem that the chaplain shared with me. It was entitled FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND, and I had never read it until the night that she gave it to me there in the hospital. It is still very special to me.

#2 - There's a verse of scripture that the Lord gave to me many, many years later, and it is still the verse that comes to mind whenever I think of Nathan. The verse is found in Psalm 30...verse 5...and it says, "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." I know beyond the shadow of any doubt that Nathan is with Jesus and that someday I will see him again! Not as a premature baby, but as the spirit man that God created him to be!

If you've suffered the loss of a child...whether it be at birth or beyond...know that, if you are a born-again, Bible-believing, follower of Christ, and child of God, then you, too, will see that child again and be reunited with them in days to come!

And as you remember that trial that you've gone through...perhaps you're asking (or have asked), "Why God? Where were You when I was going through all that? Why weren't you there for me?" I leave you now with that beautiful poem that was shared with me by that wonderful, old chaplain so many years ago...

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed He was walking along the beach with the LORD. Across the sky flashed scenes from His life. For each scene He noticed two sets of footprints in the sand. One belonging to Him and the other to the LORD.

When the last scene of His life flashed before Him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of His life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times of His life.

This really bothered Him and He questioned the LORD about it. LORD you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me.

The LORD replied, my precious, precious child, I Love you and I would never leave you! During your times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.

Until next time...

~Rebecca

Recent posts that you might be interested in reading...

Happy Homemaker Monday - December 18, 2017

Christmas Bucket List 2017

Italian Christmas Cookies

A Year Ago Today

It was a year ago today, May 8, 2016, that my dad passed away. 

Eleven years before that he had been diagnosed with COPD and emphazemia and had been being treated for both ever since. While in the hospital, five days before passing away, we discovered that he had been misdiagnosed. He actually had a lung disease called silicosis...a condition that is caused by inhaling too much silica over a long period of time.

My dad had worked at the Independence Stove Foundry in Independence Missouri for 23 years. They made cast iron products that were cast in silica sand. The lung doctor explained that, once silica sand gets into the lungs, it never goes away. Like tiny blades that cut with every breath, the sand continue to cut into the lung tissue, eating away at it little by little, all the while creating and, eventually, filling the lungs with masses of scar tissue. The doctor said that my dad had no healthy lung tissue left and that there wasn't anything that could be done for him. My dad was 49 years out from his last day of work at the Independence Stove Foundry. 

After a 10-day hospital stay my Dad was brought home on hospice; in less than 24 hours he was gone.

On the afternoon that my dad passed away, I posted the following update on Facebook:

"Dad's first night home started off not too bad. When he first got there he was communicative and interested in things...namely water, coffee, chicken noodle soup, and an Ensure shake. These were spaced out throughout the late afternoon and early evening hours. 

About 4:00 in the morning Dad started having some difficulties. His breathing became erratic and funky. He came home with a pain patch and an anti-anxiety patch from the hospital. We started the oral counterparts at 4:30 this morning. By 6:15 his breathing was still erratic and he asked for more meds. I called the nurse because the instructions said once every four hours, but the nurse said to go ahead and give them to him. The doctor has since said that he can the meds every hour if need be.

Dad was still somewhat uncomfortable when Amber arrived around 7:30 or 8:00. At that point he asked her to play some of their songs. She played several songs on the keyboard for him, then he asked that she play some of their CDs. Once the music started, Dad settled down, his breathing became less erratic, and he has slept most of the day. He's had lots of company coming and going and he's acknowledged pretty much everyone by opening his eyes, but, basically, he's just sleeping. Nothing seems to bother him (people coming and going, the great-grands laughing, playing, crying, the phone ringing...NOTHING) and he seems very comfortable.

The hospice nurse was there a short time ago and she said to keep the music playing round the clock because it seems to have such a calming effect on him. She also said that, based on his numbers, she is giving him maybe two more days, but that that could change very quickly. For now, there's still time. If anyone wants to come by and visit with him while they can feel free to do it. Just come on over...anytime...day or night.

I want to take a minute, too, to thank all those that have been thinking of my dad and praying over him. Thanks, too, to the many friends and family members who have called and/or come by. It means more to me than any of you will ever know.

And, keep in mind, while this may be a sad time for those of us who will be left behind, this is also a time of great joy. My dad accepted Christ and has been a faithful servant of the Lord for many, many years. There is no doubt where my dad will spend eternity. In fact, at 6:00 this morning, I heard him whispering over and over "Oh, God! In the name of Jesus!" He was calling on the Lord to deliver him from this earthly vessel. And, soon, the Lord will answer that prayer and the angels will rejoice as one more saint makes their journey home to meet Jesus face to face. And oh! What a day of great rejoicing that that is going to be!!!..."

As soon as I finished the update, I ran by Casey's to grab a drink and returned to Dad's. Within minutes Dad was gone. Here is the update that I shared that night...

"Well, I'm finally home from Dad's. I'm sure many of you have already heard that shortly after I posted my latest update, my dad went home to be with the Lord. Dad went so peacefully and I'm so thankful to have had so many friends and family members there today. 

While Dad was still with us various friends and family members came and went; after Dad left, the whole clan converged. We had to wait a while before the hospice nurse could get there, then an addition hour or more for the funeral home people to arrive. Friends and family members continued to call and/or come by, the children played in the yard, the adults visited and shared old stories and memories. I am thankful for the family and friends that I have. I love each and every one of them so much. I do have a lot of calls and messages to return...and I will...in time. 

Please know that your thoughts and prayers at this time mean the world to me, but, know too, that I am not sad. The past 11 years have been miserable for my dad...the past two have been really bad...especially these past four months. My dad is no longer laboring to breathe. He's not stuck in a box...imprisoned within the four walls of his own home with the exception of keeping a doctor appointment or going to the hospital. This has been a long, ongoing ordeal for him and I am so thankful that he is no longer suffering. 

He was so peaceful this afternoon...sleeping...his grandchildren, nieces and nephews, and good friends gathered round him...his great-grandchildren laughing and playing at his bedside. I'm going to miss him...yes...but, ohmygoodness! I'm so thankful! So privileged to have had the pleasure of being his daughter...to know that he lives on within me and my children and my grandchildren..."

It's hard to believe that it's been a year now, but what a joy it is to know that Dad has been free of this earthly vessel and in the presence of his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, catching up with loved ones who have gone before, and partaking of just those first, few, early days of all eternity that stretches beyond. What a joyous and wonderful time he must be having!

God bless you, Dad, and thank you! I love you and I miss you and I look forward to the day when the whole clan is gathered on the other side, there to rejoice in the Lord's presence forever and ever! Amen!

Until next time...

~Rebecca

Five Minute Friday - SHOULD

Photo found on Facebook that reminded me of the friendship 
shared between our youngest son and Shep. 

Five Minute Friday - a free write, which means, as our hostess, Kate Motaung, says, "...no editing, no over-thinking, no worrying about perfect grammar or punctuation. Just write."

This week's prompt is: SHOULD.

Go!

It's late and I should be headed to bed right now. I was scheduled to work today (didn't make it) and am scheduled to work tomorrow. The truth is, it looks like it's going to be another long night and I doubt that I make it then either.

As I type this, I sit close to our dog, Shep, who is resting quietly right now..the dog that came to us as an adult stray 17 years ago. 

Shep

Over the years Shep has been a faithful friend and loyal companion...especially to our youngest son who had just turned five when the dog showed up unannounced on our doorstep and decided...all on his own accord...that he would stay. (I really don't think that we had a choice in the matter!) Our youngest son will turn 22 in August. He came by today to say good-bye.

Shep In Younger Days - Snow Dog
Oh! How he loved playing in the snow!

As I write this post, Old Bean (as I lovingly refer to Shep sometimes), lays on a pallet of blankets at my feet. His breathing is shallow and irregular. Up until just a few hours ago, despite the problems that he has been having, when awake, has followed my every movement with his eyes not wanting to let me out of his sight for a moment. My husband and I have spent the past two nights in the livingroom to be close at hand to assist and comfort him as he has not had the strength nor inclination to make it to his bed in the bedroom next to our own bed.

It's been a bit of a blur...waiting, watching, getting up, assisting him as he incoherently moves from one spot to another, losing control of himself, washing urine soaked towels, and bedding. Should we have handled it all differently? We could have, but feel that we've made the best choice for Shep. Just trying to get him to a vet would have been so traumatic for him and, to be honest, I don't think that his heart could have handled the stress of it all. I think tonight will be the last night that we will have to do any of this.

Shep's been a good dog. He's guarded our home, loved our family unconditionally , melted our hearts, and, at times, driven us crazy with his idiosyncrasies, of which there are many. He's been a faithful friend to Stripes. (Stripes is the stray cat that came to us the same year that Shep did and in much the same way...a stray.) Stripes instinctively knows that something is wrong with his dear old pal and insisted on joining us on the floor last night just to be near him.

Shep and Stripes
This picture was taken just a few days ago.
The two pals share a special moment in their sunset years together.

We will miss our Old Bean. He's been a good dog. (Did I say that before? I think I did. And, if I did, it's because it's true. He has been a good dog!) We will miss him terribly, but am thankful to know that very soon he will be free of this decrepit, old body and returned into the hands of his loving Creator.

As we patiently wait upon the Lord this night, we take comfort in these verses from II Corinthians 1:3 and 4....

 "Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God."

By the way, thank you to the one who blessed me with second confirmation this afternoon. You know who you are. It meant everything! Thank you! 

Stop!

Until next time.
~Rebecca

For Those Who Have Suffered The Loss Of A Child - 12/19/15

Another year has come and gone and here we are...December 19th...again. Had he lived, my Nathan would have been 33 today, but he didn't live...and, because, he didn't live...in my heart and mind...he will forever be that beautiful, tiny, yet-perfectly-formed-on-the-outside, baby boy...the one with the teeniest-tiniest fingernails and the teeniest-tiniest toenails and the teeniest-tiniest every other body part that I have ever seen...the one that had more hair on his head when he was born than all my other babies had during their first year combined...the precious son that came into my life for, oh...so brief a time, on that cold December night so long ago.

As I have done over the past several years I will share that story with you again, but, as I do, I am thinking of another momma...one who has endured great sadness over the course of this past year. Last December about this time she lost a son...her youngest...and she didn't even get to attend his funeral due to the fact that she was laying in a hospital bed recovering from heart surgery. A few short months later that same momma lost her only daughter. Only one of her three children remains with her now and my heart goes out to her and her family...and to other aching mommas...and daddies, too.

A year ago I met a man who had lost his 37-year-old daughter just before Thanksgiving. He said, "You can bury your parents and your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, but no parent should ever have to bury their child" and he cried. I so wanted to speak to him again, but the opportunity never presented itself, so, tonight, I lift him and his wife up in my thoughts and prayers as they've just hit that first year anniversary mark and it's got to be hard.

I've shared this story before...four times in fact...but, tonight, I share it again in hopes that it will minister to someone, somewhere...even if in just some small way...

*********************************************

It was 33 years ago at this very time (December 19th at 12:04 a.m.) that Nathan Andrew was born. Something had been wrong for a very long time. I had been bleeding off and on since my second month of pregnancy...at times very heavily.

On the 18th of December I was out Christmas shopping with my mom, my aunt, my 1 1/2-year-old daughter, and my three little cousins. All of a sudden I went into labor. My aunt took my daughter home with her and her children, and my mother rushed me to the hospital. Next thing I knew I was being strapped to a gurney and was being shipped by ambulance to a bigger hospital...one that was attached by a walkway to Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City.

Even though I had been given a lot of medication and was pretty much out of it, I could hear the doctors and nurses talking.  If they didn't get me to the other, better-equipped hospital soon, they were going to lose me AND the baby. It was one of the most frightening experiences that I have ever had. All I could think about was what would happen to my little daughter at home if I died.

I arrived at the other hospital in record time and was immediately surrounded by all sorts of doctors and nurses. I was plugged into every kind of equipment they had, which wasn't nearly as good as what they have now, but, at the time, it was state-of-the-art. Immediately, the head doctor wanted to know who my doctor was and how long I had been bleeding. She said that the placenta had torn away from the uterus wall and that this baby should have been "taken" months ago.

What was she talking about??? I would never have allowed my baby to be "taken!"

Long story short...27 hours of intense labor later (I had been given every kind of pain medicine imaginable, but nothing seemed to help) and Nathan Andrew was born...in the hallway...on the way to delivery. He was immediately rushed across the walkway to Children's Mercy Hospital and I was taken on into delivery where a D & C was performed. A few hours later the doctor came into my room with a nurse who was carrying my dead baby. Nathan had fought hard and had lived for two hours, but his lungs were just too underdeveloped. Now days they probably could have saved him, but, back then...there was nothing they could do. There was just nothing that they could do. :'(

Nathan was perfectly formed. He had long, black hair, had perfectly formed features, ten perfectly formed tiny little fingers and fingernails...ten perfectly formed tiny little toes and toenails...on the outside he was just that...perfect! Tiny, yes (he was 10 inches long and only weighed a pound), but still...on the outside...perfectly perfect!

Not having money for a funeral left me with few choices. I would not be allowed to leave the hospital without signing papers for Nathan's body to, either, be donated to scientific research, or be cremated in the hospital crematory. Not wanting to do either I chose what, I felt like at the time, was the lesser of the two evils...the hospital crematory. To this day I have regretted that decision, but, at that point, I didn't know what else to do under the circumstances. It still hurts me beyond anything that I could ever express and there's never been any real place to mourn Nathan's loss. (In recent years I have chosen the Precious Moments Chapel in Carthage, Missouri as my place to remember him.) I came home on Christmas Eve with two very blurry pictures taken by a nurse with a Poloroid camera, a set of tiny footprints on a piece of paper, and a poem that the hospital chaplain had given to me.

Until just recently I had never written about all this, but, in years of late, I have felt a need to do so. Perhaps there is someone else out there who has been through a similar experience...someone who needs a word of encouragement. Even through all that I went through was, and still is, very sad...there are two things that have ministered to me over the years since Nathan's death...

#1 - The poem that the chaplain shared with me. It was entitled FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND. I had never read it until the night that she gave it to me there in the hospital and, to this day, it it is still very special to me.

#2 - There is a verse of scripture that the Lord gave to me many, many years later, and it is still the verse that comes to mind whenever I think of Nathan. The verse is found in Psalm 30...verse 5...and it says, "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." I know beyond the shadow of any doubt that Nathan is with Jesus and that some sweet day I will see him again! Not as a premature baby, but a the spirit man that God created him to be!

And, if you've suffered the loss of a child...whether it be due to miscarriage, premature birth, at birth, or in infancy...know that, if you are a born-again, Bible-believing, follower of Christ, and child of God, then you, too, will see that precious child again and be reunited with them in days to come because that child is with Jesus right now!

As you remember that trial that you've been through...perhaps you're asking (or have asked), "Why God? Where were You when I was going through all that? Why weren't you there for me?" I leave you now with that beautiful poem that was shared with me by that wonderful, old chaplain at Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City, Missouri on December 19th, 1982...

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the LORD.

Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand. One belonging to him and the other to the LORD.

When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of his life there were only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times of his life.

This really bothered him and he questioned the LORD about it. LORD, You said that once I decided to follow You, You'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed You the most You would leave me.

The LORD replied, My precious, preciou child, I love you and I would never leave you! During the times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.

For Those Who Have Suffered The Loss Of A Child

Another year has come and gone and here we are...December 19th...again. Nathan Andrew would have been 32-years-old today had he lived, but he didn't live...and, because he didn't live...and grow into manhood...he will forever be that beautiful, tiny, yet perfectly-formed-on-the-outside, boy baby...the one with the teeniest-tiniest fingernails and toenails and...well...everything! that I have ever seen...the one that had more hair on his head when he was born than all of my other babies had during their first year combined...the precious son that came into my life for, oh...so briefly, on that cold December night so long ago.

I will share that story with you again tonight. As I do, I can't help but be thinking about another momma who lost her own son just a few short days ago. That momma didn't even get to go to her own son's funeral and, tonight, she lays in a hospital bed recovering from heart surgery. My heart goes out to her and her family. Other mother's, too...and daddies.

I met a man just today who lost his 37-year-old daughter the Sunday before Thanksgiving. He said, "You can bury your parents and your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, but no parent should ever have to bury their child" and he cried. I so wanted to speak with him further, but the opportunity never presented itself, so, tonight, I pray for him.

I have shared this story before...three times, in fact...but tonight I will share it, again, in hopes that it will minister to someone, somewhere, even if just in some small way...


It was 32 years ago that Nathan Andrew was born. Something had been wrong for a very long time. I had been bleeding off and on since my second month of pregnancy...at times very heavily.

On the 18th of December I was out Christmas shopping with my mother, my aunt, my 1 1/2-year-old daughter, and my three little cousins. All of a sudden I went into labor. My aunt took my daughter home with her and her children, and my mother rushed me to the hospital. Next thing I knew I was being strapped to a gurney and was being shipped by ambulance to a bigger hospital...one that was attached by a walkway to Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City. 

Even though I had been given a lot of medication and was pretty much out of it, I could hear the doctors and nurses talking. If they didn't get me to the other, better-equipped hospital soon, they were going to lose me AND the baby. It was one of the most frightening experiences I've ever had. All I could think about was what would happen to my little daughter at home if I died. 

I arrived at the other hospital in record time and was immediately surrounded by all sorts of doctors and nurses. I was plugged into every kind of equipment they had...which wasn't nearly as good as the equipment that they have now, but, at the time, it was state-of-the-art. Immediately, the head doctor wanted to know who my doctor was and how long I had been bleeding. She said that the placenta had torn away from the uterus wall and that this baby should have been "taken" months ago. What was she talking about? I would never have allowed my baby to be "taken!"

Long story short...27 hours of intense labor later (I had been given every kind of pain medicine available and nothing seemed to help) and Nathan Andrew was born...in the hallway on the way to delivery. He was immediately rushed across the walkway to Children's Mercy and I was taken on into delivery where a DNC was performed. A few hours later the doctor came into my room with a nurse who was carrying my baby. Nathan had fought hard and lived for two hours, but his lungs were just too little. Now days they probably could have saved him, but, back then...there was nothing they could do. There was just nothing that they could do. :'(

Nathan was perfectly formed. He had long, black hair, had perfectly formed features, perfect, tiny, little fingers and fingernails...toes and toenails...on the outside he was just that...perfect! Tiny, yes (he was 10 inches long and he only weighed a pound)! But still...perfect. 

Not having money for a funeral left me with few choices. I would not be allowed to leave the hospital without signing papers for Nathan's body to, either, be donated to scientific research, or be cremated in the hospital crematory. Not wanting to do either I chose the lesser of the two evils...the hospital crematory. To this day I regret that, but, at that point, I didn't know what else to do under the circumstances. It still hurts me beyond anything that I could ever express and there's never been anywhere to mourn Nathan's loss. I came home on Christmas Eve with two very blurry pictures, a set of tiny footprints on a piece of paper, and a poem that the hospital chaplain had given me.

Until recently, I had never written about all this, but, in recent years, I have felt a need to do so. Perhaps there is someone else out there who has been through a similar experience...someone who needs a word of encouragement. Even though all that I went through was, and still is, very sad...there are two things that have ministered to me over the years since Nathan's death...

#1 - The poem that the chaplain shared with me. It was entitled FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND, and I had never read it until the night that she gave it to me there in the hospital and it is still very special to me.

#2 - There's a verse of scripture that the Lord gave to me many, many years later, and it is still the verse that comes to mind whenever I think of Nathan. The verse is found in Psalm 30...verse5...and it says, "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." I know beyond the shadow of any doubt that Nathan is with Jesus and that someday I will see him again! Not as a premature baby, but as the spirit man that God created him to be!

And, if you've suffered the loss of a child...whether it be to miscarriage, premature birth, at birth or beyond...know that, if you are a born-again, Bible-believing, follower of Christ, and child of God, then you, too, will see that child again and be reunited with them in days to come because that child is with Jesus right now!

As you remember that trial that you've gone through...perhaps you're asking (or have asked), "Why God? Where were You when I was going through all that? Why weren't you there for me?" I leave you, now, with that beautiful poem that was shared with me by that wonderful, old chaplain at Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City, Missouri on December 19th, 1982...

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed He was walking along the beach with the LORD. 

Across the sky flashed scenes from His life. For each scene He noticed two sets of footprints in the sand. One belonging to Him and the other to the LORD.

When the last scene of His life flashed before Him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of His life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times of His life.

This really bothered Him and He questioned the LORD about it. LORD you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me.

The LORD replied, my precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you! During your times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.

For Those Who Have Suffered The Loss A Child

Reposting from 2011...

It was exactly 31 years ago at this very time that Nathan Andrew was born. Something had been wrong for a very long time. I had been bleeding off and on since my second month of pregnancy...at times very heavily.

I was out Christmas shopping with my mother, my aunt, my 1 1/2-year-old daughter, and my three little cousins. All of a sudden I went into labor. My aunt took my daughter home with her and her children, and my mother rushed me to the hospital. Next thing I knew I was being strapped to a gurney and was being shipped by ambulance to a bigger hospital...one that was attached by a walkway to Children's Mercy in Kansas City. Even though I had been given a lot of medication and was pretty much out of it, I could hear the doctors and nurses talking. If they didn't get me to the other, better equipped hospital soon, they were going to lose me AND the baby. It was one of the most frightening experiences I've ever had. All I could think about was what would happen to my little daughter at home if I died. 

I arrived at the other hospital in record time and was immediately surrounded by all sorts of doctors and nurses. I was plugged into every kind of equipment they had...which wasn't nearly as good as the equipment that they have now, but, at the time, it was state-of-the-art. Immediately, the head doctor wanted to know who my doctor was and how long I had been bleeding. She said that the placenta had torn away from the uterus wall and that this baby should have been "taken" months ago. What was she talking about? I would never have allowed my baby to be "taken!"

Long story short...27 hours of intense labor later (I had been given every kind of pain medicine available and nothing seemed to be helping) Nathan Andrew was born...in the hallway on the way to delivery. He was immediately rushed across the walkway to Children's Mercy and I was taken on into delivery where a DNC was performed. A few hours later the doctor came into my room with a nurse who was carrying my baby. Nathan had fought hard and lived for two hours, but his lungs were just too little. Now days they probably could have saved him, but, back then...there was nothing they could do. There was just nothing that they could do. :'(

Nathan was perfectly formed. He had long, black hair, had perfectly formed features, perfect, tiny, little fingers and fingernails...toes and toenails...on the outside he was just that...perfect! Tiny, yes (he was 10 inches long and he only weighed a pound)! But still...perfect. 

Not having money for a funeral left me with few choices. I would not be allowed to leave the hospital without signing papers for Nathan's body to, either, be donated to scientific research, or be cremated in the hospital crematory. Not wanting to do either I chose the lesser of the two evils...the hospital crematory. To this day I regret that, but I don't know what else I could have done under the circumstances. It still hurts me beyond anything that I could ever express and there's never been anywhere to mourn Nathan's loss. I came home on Christmas Eve with two very blurry pictures, a set of tiny footprints on a piece of paper, and a poem that the hospital chaplain had given me.

I've never written about all this before, but, tonight, I felt a need to do so. Perhaps there is someone else out there who has been through a similar experience...someone who needs a word of encouragement. Even though all that I went through was, and still is, very sad...there are two things that have ministered to me over the years since Nathan's death...

#1 - The poem that the chaplain shared with me. It was entitled FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND, and I had never read it until the night that she gave it to me there in the hospital. It is still very special to me.

#2 - There's a verse of scripture that the Lord gave to me many, many years later, and it is still the verse that comes to mind whenever I think of Nathan. The verse is found in Psalm 30...verse5...and it says, "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." I know beyond the shadow of any doubt that Nathan is with Jesus and that someday I will see him again! Not as a premature baby, but as the spirit man that God created him to be!

And, if you've suffered the loss of a child...whether it be at birth or beyond...know that, if you are a born-again, Bible-believing, follower of Christ, and child of God, then you, too, will see that child again and be reunited with them in days to come!

And as you remember that trial that you've gone through...perhaps you're asking (or have asked), "Why God? Where were You when I was going through all that? Why weren't you there for me?" I leave you now with that beautiful poem that was shared with me by that wonderful, old chaplain at Children's Mercy...

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed He was walking along the beach with the LORD. Across the sky flashed scenes from His life. For each scene He noticed two sets of footprints in the sand. One belonging to Him and the other to the LORD.

When the last scene of His life flashed before Him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of His life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times of His life.

This really bothered Him and He questioned the LORD about it. LORD you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me.

The LORD replied, my precious, precious child, I Love you and I would never leave you! During your times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, 

The Loss Of A Child

This has been a very sad holiday season for us. The husband of a dear friend was killed in a car accident earlier in the month and his funeral...the most beautiful, everything-pointed-to-our-Lord-and-Saviour-Jesus-Christ-funeral I've ever  been to...was held yesterday. Though my heart aches terribly for all of his family...especially the dearly loved, beautiful, young wife that he left behind...it was Tim's mother that held my attention yesterday. Tim was her son. And it is Christmas-time. And she hurts. And...even though I only held my son for a short time...and she held hers for 36 years...I know that pain. The pain of a mother that has lost a son. My heart goes out to her. To all the family on both sides. But today...especially to that mother that has lost her son.

Today marks the 30th anniversary of the loss of my own son, Nathan. It is his birthday and his death day. I wrote this post last year and am reposting it today in his memory. It is dedicated to all mother's who have lost a child, but...this year...especially to my beloved Mrs. S.

Mrs. S...although you may never see this post...this piece is dedicated to you this year...and in the memory of your precious son, Timothy Andrew (by the way...your boy and my boy shared the same middle name). Tim, just as with my own precious son that is no longer with us, you are much loved and will be greatly missed, but one glorious day we WILL see you again! Until then...as your father said yesterday...it is bye-bye for now.

Now...for last year's post...

It was exactly 29 years ago at this very time that Nathan Andrew was born. Something had been wrong for a very long time. I had been bleeding off and on since my second month of pregnancy...at times very heavily.

On the 18th of December I was out Christmas shopping with my mother, my aunt, my 1 1/2-year-old daughter, and my three little cousins. All of a sudden I went into labor. My aunt took my daughter home with her and her children, and my mother rushed me to the hospital. Next thing I knew I was being strapped to a gurney and was being shipped by ambulance to a bigger hospital...one that was attached by a walkway to Children's Mercy in Kansas City. Even though I had been given a lot of medication and was pretty much out of it, I could hear the doctors and nurses talking. If they didn't get me to the other, better equipped hospital soon, they were going to lose me AND the baby. It was one of the most frightening experiences I've ever had. All I could think about was what would happen to my little daughter at home if I died.

I arrived at the other hospital in record time and was immediately surrounded by all sorts of doctors and nurses. I was plugged into every kind of equipment they had...which wasn't nearly as good as the equipment that they have now, but, at the time, it was state-of-the-art. Immediately, the head doctor wanted to know who my doctor was and how long I had been bleeding. She said that the placenta had torn away from the uterus wall and that this baby should have been "taken" months ago. What was she talking about? I would never have allowed my baby to be "taken!"

Long story short...27 hours of intense labor later (I had been given every kind of pain medicine available and nothing seemed to be helping) Nathan Andrew was born...in the hallway on the way to delivery. He was immediately rushed across the walkway to Children's Mercy and I was taken on into delivery where a DNC was performed. A few hours later the doctor came into my room with a nurse who was carrying my baby. Nathan had fought hard and lived for two hours, but his lungs were just too little. Now days they probably could have saved him, but, back then...there was nothing they could do. There was just nothing that they could do. :'(

Nathan was perfectly formed. He had long, black hair, had perfectly formed features, perfect, tiny, little fingers and fingernails...toes and toenails...on the outside he was just that...perfect! Tiny, yes (he was 10 inches long and he only weighed a pound)! But still...perfect.

Not having money for a funeral left me with few choices. I would not be allowed to leave the hospital without signing papers for Nathan's body to, either, be donated to scientific research, or be cremated in the hospital crematory. Not wanting to do either I chose the lesser of the two evils...the hospital crematory. To this day I regret that, but I don't know what else I could have done under the circumstances. It still hurts me beyond anything that I could ever express and there's never been anywhere to mourn Nathan's loss. I came home on Christmas Eve with two very blurry pictures, a set of tiny footprints on a piece of paper, and a poem that the hospital chaplain had given me.

I've never written about all this before, but, tonight, I felt a need to do so. Perhaps there is someone else out there who has been through a similar experience...someone who needs a word of encouragement. Even though all that I went through was, and still is, very sad...there are two things that have ministered to me over the years since Nathan's death...

#1 - The poem that the chaplain shared with me. It was entitled FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND, and I had never read it until the night that she gave it to me there in the hospital. It is still very special to me.

#2 - There's a verse of scripture that the Lord gave to me many, many years later, and it is still the verse that comes to mind whenever I think of Nathan. The verse is found in Psalm 30...verse 5...and it says, "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." I know beyond the shadow of any doubt that Nathan is with Jesus and that someday I will see him again! Not as a premature baby, but as the spirit man that God created him to be!

And, if you've suffered the loss of a child...whether it be at birth or beyond...know that, if you are a born-again, Bible-believing, follower of Christ, and child of God, then you, too, will see that child again and be reunited with them in days to come!

And as you remember that trial that you've gone through...perhaps you're asking (or have asked), "Why God? Where were You when I was going through all that? Why weren't you there for me?" I leave you now with that beautiful poem that was shared with me by that wonderful, old chaplain at Children's Mercy...

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed He was walking along the beach with the LORD. Across the sky flashed scenes from His life. For each scene He noticed two sets of footprints in the sand. One belonging to Him and the other to the LORD.

When the last scene of His life flashed before Him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of His life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times of His life.

This really bothered Him and He questioned the LORD about it. LORD you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me.

The LORD replied, my precious, precious child, I Love you and I would never leave you! During your times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.

Nathan Andrew - 12/19/82

It was exactly 29 years ago at this very time that Nathan Andrew was born. Something had been wrong for a very long time. I had been bleeding off and on since my second month of pregnancy...at times very heavily.

On the 18th of December I was out Christmas shopping with my mother, my aunt, my 1 1/2-year-old daughter, and my three little cousins. All of a sudden I went into labor. My aunt took my daughter home with her and her children, and my mother rushed me to the hospital. Next thing I knew I was being strapped to a gurney and was being shipped by ambulance to a bigger hospital...one that was attached by a walkway to Children's Mercy in Kansas City. Even though I had been given a lot of medication and was pretty much out of it, I could hear the doctors and nurses talking. If they didn't get me to the other, better equipped hospital soon, they were going to lose me AND the baby. It was one of the most frightening experiences I've ever had. All I could think about was what would happen to my little daughter at home if I died.

I arrived at the other hospital in record time and was immediately surrounded by all sorts of doctors and nurses. I was plugged into every kind of equipment they had...which wasn't nearly as good as the equipment that they have now, but, at the time, it was state-of-the-art. Immediately, the head doctor wanted to know who my doctor was and how long I had been bleeding. She said that the placenta had torn away from the uterus wall and that this baby should have been "taken" months ago. What was she talking about? I would never have allowed my baby to be "taken!"

Long story short...27 hours of intense labor later (I had been given every kind of pain medicine available and nothing seemed to be helping) Nathan Andrew was born...in the hallway on the way to delivery. He was immediately rushed across the walkway to Children's Mercy and I was taken on into delivery where a DNC was performed. A few hours later the doctor came into my room with a nurse who was carrying my baby. Nathan had fought hard and lived for two hours, but his lungs were just too little. Now days they probably could have saved him, but, back then...there was nothing they could do. There was just nothing that they could do. 😞

Nathan was perfectly formed. He had long, black hair, had perfectly formed features, perfect, tiny, little fingers and fingernails...toes and toenails...on the outside he was just that...perfect! Tiny, yes (he was 10 inches long and he only weighed a pound)! But still...perfect.

Not having money for a funeral left me with few choices. I would not be allowed to leave the hospital without signing papers for Nathan's body to, either, be donated to scientific research, or be cremated in the hospital crematory. Not wanting to do either I chose the lesser of the two evils...the hospital crematory. To this day I regret that, but I don't know what else I could have done under the circumstances. It still hurts me beyond anything that I could ever express and there's never been anywhere to mourn Nathan's loss. I came home on Christmas Eve with two very blurry pictures, a set of tiny footprints on a piece of paper, and a poem that the hospital chaplain had given me.

I've never written about all this before, but, tonight, I felt a need to do so. Perhaps there is someone else out there who has been through a similar experience...someone who needs a word of encouragement. Even though all that I went through was, and still is, very sad...there are two things that have ministered to me over the years since Nathan's death...


#1 - The poem that the chaplain shared with me. It was entitled FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND, and I had never read it until the night that she gave it to me there in the hospital. It is still very special to me.

#2 - There's a verse of scripture that the Lord gave to me many, many years later, and it is still the verse that comes to mind whenever I think of Nathan. The verse is found in Psalm 30...verse 5...and it says, "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." I know beyond the shadow of any doubt that Nathan is with Jesus and that someday I will see him again! Not as a premature baby, but as the spirit man that God created him to be!

And, if you've suffered the loss of a child...whether it be at birth or beyond...know that, if you are a born-again believer then you will see that child again and be reunited with them in days to come! If you've not accepted Jesus as the Lord and Saviour of your life, know that it's not too late! Click here to find out more.

And as you remember that trial that you've gone through...perhaps you're asking (or have asked), "Why God? Where were You when I was going through all that? Why weren't you there for me?" I leave you now with that beautiful poem that was shared with me by that wonderful, old chaplain at Children's Mercy...

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed He was walking along the beach with the LORD. Across the sky flashed scenes from His life. For each scene He noticed two sets of footprints in the sand. One belonging to Him and the other to the LORD.

When the last scene of His life flashed before Him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of His life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times of His life.

This really bothered Him and He questioned the LORD about it. LORD you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me.

The LORD replied, my precious, precious child, I Love you and I would never leave you! During your times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.