Abigail's Eulogy

Abigail’s Eulogy


4 summers ago, our family took a 3 week trip to visit their grandparents who were serving a mission in the Ohio Kirtland Mission. At one of our stops, we were in Kentucky on an incredibly rain soaked day. We had stopped at KFC to eat dinner, we were in Kentucky so why not, and on the prayer for the food, I had also asked Heavenly Father to stop the rain long enough so we could get our tent set up for the night. As we were leaving KFC, the rain stopped until the exact moment our tent was up,  at which point the downpour started once again.

When Katrina and I first heard about Abigail’s diagnosis of anencephaly, we watched a video of a family whose child had a very similar condition. They told how they were given 10 hours to spend with their sweet child before he passed. I remember praying that evening to Heavenly Father pleading if we could just get 10 hours with Abigail I would be the happiest person alive.

We were given 22.5 sweet hours to spend with Abigail. During that time, Katrina died for 20-30 seconds, I almost passed out a few times, Abigail was given a blessing with dad, uncle Tim and Grandpa Lantz, all of her brothers got to hold her and sing to her and tell her stories, she was taken care of by many sweet nurses from the NICU and ICU at Utah Valley Hospital and just loved by everyone. As imperfect as her body was, she was able to breathe and stay alive so much longer than anyone could have guessed or hoped for. We were afraid people would be scared to look at her face, but besides initial reactions from some of our kids, everyone looked at her with nothing but love in their eyes. She passed away a day after she was born, comfortably laying on her mother, touching skin to skin for the last moments of her life. The NICU doctor came in to check her heartbeat and found it was beating a very long 1-3 seconds apart. He waited a few minutes to check again and found that Abigail’s heart had stopped completely. She was a fighter until the very end.

Abigail’s life exemplifies how our Heavenly Father is with us. No matter how imperfect we are and how hard we struggle, our Heavenly Father loves us with an intensity we earthly parents can almost imagine. And as we struggle, He is there holding onto us, doing whatever he can to help us on the right path, comforting us, wanting us to succeed, just like we hoped and prayed that Abigail would succeed. And even when we think our prayers are in vain, our Heavenly Father hears us and answers us just in the way we need it, not always how we want it or ask for it, but how we need it. Just like He stopped the rain for us and gave us an eternity with Abigail here on Earth.

There were so many miracles surrounding Abigail. We typically only get one ultrasound during the pregnancy and that is only so we can know the gender. But this time around, things were a little different. We got an ultrasound at 8 weeks because Katrina wanted to see the baby’s heartbeat, again at 16 weeks so we could find out the gender. Another one at 22 weeks to see a specialist so they could try to identify what was going on around her head area. Each time we went in for another ultrasound, the news got worse and worse. Around 31 weeks we went in and our worst fear was realized, we were going to have to have a c-section, otherwise we would have little chance of seeing our Abigail alive or Katrina could die. And even though this wasn’t great news, we were happy that we might even have the littlest chance of seeing her alive. In the case of this pregnancy, if we would have tried to have a home birth like we typically do, Katrina’s life would have been in real danger. I know we were guided to get all those ultrasounds so that Katrina’s life could be safe. We had many people that were put in our path, like skilled surgeons who were able to get Abigail out safely and a calm anesthesiologist who was able to give Katrina a shot of epinephrine to restart her heart. For a talented maternal fetal medicine doctor who was able to diagnose Abigail’s amniotic band syndrome and show us how Abigail was tied up in the placenta, but also give us a glimmer of hope that we would see Abigail alive. Even after Abigail had passed, we were being watched over as a semi truck pulled in front of our car and dropped a beam on the road just as we switched over a lane. We feel that Abigail is watching over us now.

Abigail leaves this world loved by all who had the opportunity to be around her.

I’m reminded of the words from one of my favorite scriptures, Romans 8:18 “For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be found in us.” Abigail lived her suffering on this Earth and there is no doubt that her calling and election has been made sure and that she is back with her Father In Heaven once again.

Katrina had prepared a playlist to be played during the c-section and one of the songs on the playlist is our song “Come What May”, which we have sung together multiple times. It was the second song on the playlist and at the moment that song was playing, Abigail was brought out of the womb. It is such a special moment to be able to share that song with the birth of Abigail. Now that song has so much more meaning to me.


Never knew I could feel like this

Like I've never seen the sky before

Want to vanish inside your kiss

Every day I love you more and more

Listen to my heart

Can you hear it sing?

Telling me to give you everything

Seasons may change, winter to spring

But I love you until the end of time

Come what may, come what may

I will love you until my dying day

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place

Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace

Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste

It All revolves around you

And there’s no mountain too high

No river too wide

Sing out this song

And I’ll be there by your side

Storms clouds may gather, stars may collide

But I love you, till the end of time

Come what may, come what may

I will love you until my dying day

The Day Our Hearts Stop

On Tuesday of this week, my heart stopped, but on Wednesday, it broke. My heart stopped during surgery at the precise moment Abigail was delivered via C-section. She and her dad went into the next room while I was given a shot of epinephrine that brought my heart and breath back. Instead of seeing the moment of her birth, I blacked out and regained consciousness without her or Bill, while a team of ICU nurses and doctors rushed me into the intensive care unit. My first confused questions were about where I was, where Bill was, and where Abigail was.

Was she alive?

They explained to me that she was born alive and breathing, and that she was with her dad. He had been able to join the family in our labor and delivery room. Together with my brother Tim and Bill's dad, Abigail's Grandpa Michael Lantz, Bill gave Abigail a name and a blessing according to our faith tradition. Abigail became a member of the Bill and Katrina Lantz family, a big, loud, loving, and mostly male group. God sent Abigail. She began her work immediately, tenderizing everyone who held her with a feminine spirit unlike anything I have ever felt. She was so soft yet unbelievably strong, fighting for many of the breaths she took in the brief life she was appointed. Her big, beautiful spirit was apparent even in the tiny, burdened body she presented with. I fell in love with her instantly. Abigail was allowed to stay by our side all day in the ICU. Special comfort care was given to her, including feedings through a tube due to her severe cleft palate. She made the sweetest little sounds. Before her birth, there were no guarantees and a lot of guesses. We hadn't known if we would be able to hear her cry at all, but her sweet voice broke my heart and changed it all at once.

Abigail wasn't expected to have eyes, but she had them, sweet little slits that stayed closed the entire time we had her. They had eyelashes and they cried real tears. The privilege of gently wiping away her tears is one I will forever cherish.

Abigail wasn't expected to have ears, but she had them, and we all loved to touch them and sing softly into them. She was sung the words of hymns, love songs, lullabies, and original compositions by five-year-old Daniel.

Abigail wasn't expected to have hair but she had locks of short, dark, curly hair. It was beautiful. In a house full of blondish boys, her hair was just one of the things that made her unique.

Abigail had a sweet little chin like her brothers' chins, and very kissable chubby cheeks, which I stroked softly for hours while watching her breathe.

Abigail's skull ended just above her ears, and her nose and mouth were intermingled due to the amniotic band syndrome that interrupted the head's development. The placenta was sewn into the top of her head. She had challenges because of these things, and the most obvious was that breathing could become very difficult at times. It was hard to watch her struggle, and I was proud of her strength and determination. She lived for one entire day and one entire night.

In her last moments, Abigail's powerful heart slowed gradually to a stop. I held her, skin to skin on my chest until long after her heart stopped. Bill sat beside us, praying and saying goodbye with us. Moments later, Abigail was welcomed into heaven by an even bigger, louder family up there. Breathing was no longer a labor she had to fight through, and the songs she heard then were so much sweeter than even the sweetest lullaby or original composition we could give her here.

On Tuesday, at 8:51am, my heart stopped. But on Wednesay morning at 7:20am, Abigail's heart stopped and mine shattered to expand. I am in more emotional pain than I have ever felt in my comparably long life, but I am also in more love.

Abigail has changed me forever. She has changed all of us in her family, forever.

See God at work. He sent an angel to our family, and we will never be the smaller creatures we used to be. Our hearts are much bigger now. They have room to ache and room to soar, room to love and room to break. Abigail gave us all a super power. Her life and death can make us more tender with each other, so that we never want to hurt each other again. Her powerful example of acceptance in the face of huge trials can make us stronger, so that we believe in our power to persevere through the most difficult challenges. Her quiet but giant spirit and the love that emanated from her tiny being can remind us that God is love and that is so much bigger than any of us alone can fathom. We are eternal beings with eternal purpose. Abigail's life didn't start on Tuesday and it didn't end on Wednesday. Her life stretches before us and after us for eons, and thank heaven for that. Because the world needs more Abigail.

The world needs more tenderness and quiet strength in trial, and love. Above all things, the world needs more love.

I hope I will never forget the way she has touched my heart and shattered it to expand it. I hope my life will bear testament to her sacrifice in coming into that tiny little body with so many struggles. I hope our spirits will continue to be and feel united in that great common cause of godly love. I cannot imagine life without Abigail. I would sooner have to imagine life without joy. But life is joy. I will feel Abigail in the embraces of her dad and her brothers. I will recognize her in every beautiful thing I see or hear. She will be everywhere to me, in a song or a dance, in a flower or a work of art, in a sunrise or a sunset, in a forest or a garden.

She is with God and that love is everywhere.

I cannot forget it while I still feel and breathe it.

I thank God for sending Abigail Réileen Lantz. Hold the gate open for us, baby girl. We are coming, in God's good time.

I have loved you since forever

And now I remember

It aches and it stretches

My heart reaches out to yours

I have known you for forever

And now I remember

It grows and it trembles

My heart knows yours

I have sat with you before

Somewhere far away and long ago

And now I remember

And I will never forget again.

For Abigail Réileen Lantz

Dressing Abigail

Tonight was heavy, but powerful. My husband, my mom, and my sister, Shayna, along with my son, Layne, worked together to dress Abigail Réileen Lantz for the last time. I couldn't imagine anybody else doing it with the love and care we have for her precious little body. She is beautiful in her funeral gown. Tomorrow we will lay her to rest in the Mona cemetery after a funeral at our local chapel. It is surreal for one life to begin and end so quickly. But Abigail's sweet spirit is still with us. I will forever be grateful that she came to our family.

Abigail's Flowers

I have another gift for Abigail (I am giving her other ones). I made her these flowers out of pipe cleaners. 

It took me a while to make this bouquet. I am going to visit Abigail's grave on her birthday and give her flowers every year. I don't think that I will ever find flowers that are as pretty as she is. 

Waiting for Abigail

Waiting for Abigail has been a hard but beautiful time for our family. We have thought more often of eternity and that which is eternal, like love and our relationships and the things we learn here. We have also thought in more urgent and realistic tones about mortality, the briefness of it, and the fact that no time is guaranteed to anyone. We will all die one day, and chances are that it will happen on a day we aren't expecting it.

Today all my pregnancy apps tell me I am 37 weeks pregnant and that my baby will be ready in a few more weeks, but they don't know that she is due tomorrow via C-section. We, her parents and a collection of doctors, have chosen her birth day. But even the doctors do not know for sure when she will die. So we hope. No time is guaranteed to anyone but we hope for time with her.

Time to hold her and smile at her and dance with her and sing to her. I don't know if we will get to feed her. I know there will be time enough to cry over her. We will certainly take pictures of her and memorialize her hands and her feet. We will dress her in beautiful clothes and wrap her in made-with-love blankets. We will introduce her to her five big brothers. She may or may not be breathing when we do.

The only time we are guaranteed to have with Abigail is the time that has already passed with her in my womb. Oh, and I cherish that time! I'm going to miss it so much. Not the aches and pains, but the rolls and punches, and especially the hiccups. Originally the doctor suggested a C-section date a week earlier than this one, at 36 weeks, but at our very next appointment I asked for it to be extended to 37 weeks. I had planned to go all the way to 41 weeks with her if she wanted it, but the risk of my dying was too great for the doctors' liking. Not to mention my husband's. So here we are, a day before the waiting for Abigail must come to an end. 

I'm so grateful for this "extra" week. I know it has made a difference in how we are able to accept whatever outcome we get. I think it has made a difference in how ready Abigail is. She's had hiccups every day, a good indicator of lung/brain cooperative development. I feel there is a good chance she will be able to breathe after all.

Of course, there are no guarantees.

Ready or not, tomorrow morning is the time. This waiting period will end. Her heart has always been so strong, so steady. I have to hope it will keep on beating.

Yesterday I was reading through old journal entries and found one from the day before we discovered Abigail's condition. We were 22 weeks along and I was writing about the difficulty of balancing school with motherhood:

"The fact that I only have a month left of this crazy balancing act is very comforting, though. I know that the tension I feel in seeking this balance is not going to go on consecutively forever. I will get a break next semester. A break to have a baby! And it's a girl! We are all thrilled. We are having a third ultrasound tomorrow, an official anatomy scan to be sure baby is thriving and developing as she should. Her name will be Abigail Réileen Lantz. The middle name is a combination of Renée and Eileen, the first name of my mom and the middle name of Bill's mom. She will be named after both of her grandmothers, which I love! She will likely be our last baby and our only daughter. That's a sad thing to say, but I am getting older and my body can't keep having babies, and the likelihood of getting another girl after this is low, too, seeing as we only have boys so far. Perhaps if we feel so inspired, we can adopt a few girls later on. It's tragic that even in the U.S. sex-selective abortions are done to kill baby girls in the womb and ensure a male baby is born. I will take anybody's unwanted daughters! How can you not want a girl? That's a broken society that can't value a mother in embryo like that.

Deep breath. My mantra with my husband right now is, 'We're going to get through this.'

Whatever we face, we are facing it together. That's the important thing. Nobody knows what tomorrow brings, but growth and adventure are guaranteed."

Growth and adventure are always guaranteed. They are the only thing that is. 

Abigail has already brought so much growth and joy into our lives. Our meeting tomorrow is full of unknowns. But love will be there. Hope will be there. I can't wait to hold her.

Abigail's Gifts

Not everyone can say that they have baby sister in heaven. I can. And I love her so very much. I gave her two very special gifts. 

Above is a picture of my two stuffed animals. The one on the left is the one from my birth. I once lost it and my mom bought me another one (the one on the right). I eventually found the stuffed animal that I got from my birth. I always wondered what I would do with the second one. Now I know exactly what to do with it. I am going to give it to my sister. I know that even though she can't really play with it, I have something to remind me of her. I will never lose it again the first one again.

Above is a letter that I wrote to Abigail. I am going to keep the pencil somewhere safe. Here is the text if you can't see it:

Abigail,

You mean everything to me. You give me so much hope. I love you. I love you so so much! I know that even though you probably won't live long on this earth, you will live forever in my heart. I can't wait to see you in heaven someday.

Till we meet again,

Sam Lantz

I know that God loves Abby and I and that families can be together forever. These gifts will help me remember Abigail and keep me close to her. No one can take my hope away.

Hope, Not What I Thought it Meant

Source: https://pixabay.com/photos/hands-open-candle-candlelight-1926414/

I used to hope that my sister would miraculously survive. Now I know that that is not what I should be hoping for. Now I hope that Abby will help our family become spiritually stronger. 

I did a short study on the word "hope".

In 2 Nephi 31:20 it says:

"...press forward, having a perfect brightness of hope..."

That scripture teaches me that if you lose everything, you can still have hope, and if you have hope, you have faith, and if you have faith,  you have God,  if you have God, you have everything you need.

Hope can also be defined as "a feeling of expectation and desire for something certain to happen."

I used a search engine that shows the origin of certain words. I looked up "hope" and this is what I found:

"Some suggest a connection with hop....on the notion of 'leaping in expectation' [Klein]."

"Late old English hopa 'confidence in the future,' especially 'God or Christ as a basis for hope,'..." 

There is also "Old Frisian and Middle Dutch hope, Danish haab, [and] Dutch hoop"

I also realized that "hope" sounded like "hoop" since the formal is eternal and can never be taken from you.

I also like the explanation hop for "leaping in expectation" listed above.

Words that are similar to hope are faith and trust (but not pixiedust!).

Here is a quote that I found:

The people of the Earth Kingdom are proud and strong. They can endure anything, as long as they have hope.

-Prince Zuko; Avatar, The Last Airbender 

Now I see that I was hoping for the wrong thing. I now know what the true meaning is. I know that Abigail and I will see each other again. I hope that she helps my family to be worthy enough for the Savior's return.

Abigail's Shower

We didn't have a baby shower for Abigail Réileen, but we have been so touched by all of your gifts! One of my favorites was from a little girl also named Abigail who came to our house and did a ballet dance for us. 🩰 Made me cry. We've received paintings and pictures, blankets and baby jewelry, a Christmas ornament to start our collection, flowers and other tokens of love and support. Another really meaningful one was the good friend who built Abigail's casket with Bill Lantz. We will always remember your kindness. 

As we begin the countdown from 7 days to Abigail's birth day next Tuesday, I am cherishing every movement and hiccup and hoping for all the memory making we are dreaming of. 

I can't really imagine life without Abigail, but on the other hand, I can't wait to meet her and hold her in my arms at last. 

Lots of mixed emotions. 

Thank you for waiting with us.  Your prayers have given us so much love and strength.❤️❤️❤️❤️

A birth plan, a funeral program, and hope

It's Sunday again, and we are 36 weeks along. Friday was Valentine's Day so Daniel (5) has valentines on the mind. He made this little heart during church and said, "This is for Abigail." 

It's moments like this that I remember how incredibly blessed we have been as a family. When we announced our pregnancy to the kids, they were all excited because they love babies. It's precious to my heart that they see a new addition to the family as cause for celebration.

We were all hoping for a girl, but the boys were the most vocal about it. Sad to say, it might be partially because of well-meaning friends and strangers saying things that make them feel incomplete without a sister, like, "Are you hoping for a sister this time?"

Even after we broke the news that Abigail would ultimately become an angel for our family, the level of enthusiasm for Abigail hasn't diminished. Finally, they have a sister. And even though she isn't staying long, she will always be their sister. They know we get to keep her forever. I'm grateful for that sure knowledge.

This afternoon we put the finishing touches on our birth plan and printed a few copies so the whole birth team can be on the same page. Once that was done, we worked a little while on the funeral program and I asked my parents to sing one of my favorite songs for the event. All of this while Abigail Réileen makes her presence felt with kicks and punches in my tummy. I love her so much already, we all do.

The guiding principle of our home right now is hope. We know what can and probably will go wrong when Abigail is born. There is no false hope, but there's a kind of hope nevertheless. It's a hope that is born of our love for her.

We hope everyone will get to meet her who needs to, and that we will be able to make memories with her after her birth.

We hope to celebrate her life with music and prayer and poetry.

We hope she will always have a place in our family and never be forgotten.

We hope that knowing her and loving her changes us in all the ways she would have it do.

We hope this difficult goodbye brings all of us closer together.

We hope in Christ we shall all be reunited in a higher, holier sphere where none are sick or wounded and all are restored to perfect health.

I have struggled against hope throughout this journey, this past week especially. I have cried and cried out because the waiting seems unbearable. Not this waiting for her birth, but the promise of more waiting after her death. I have wondered aloud to my husband how I can go on after such heartache. 

In answer, I have heard the voice of God saying, "Live for the Lord," and I have been humbled because I am a selfish creature. I always think I know what's best.

Remember the painting of the pioneer woman that takes up an entire wall in the Payson temple?

I told how I had heard the hymn in my head before realizing the painting's title was from that hymn: "Blessed, Honored Pioneer." Today I went to church and the opening hymn happened to be this song, titled, "They, the Builders of the Nation," Hymn #36 in the LDS Hymnal. Each verse's chorus is slightly different but ends with the line, "Blessed, honored pioneer." No wonder I had thought it was the hymn's title. As we sang it today, I realized that I revere my pioneer ancestors exactly for the incredible faith they showed while suffering the deaths of so many beloved friends and family members, while facing death themselves. And I realized that to future generations, we are the pioneers. Suddenly the song became a call to action for me, like the words I had almost seen in my mind's eye written on my bedroom wall: "Live for the Lord."

My eyes went to the bottom of the hymnal page and I knew I had to read the scripture associated with the hymn.

It is Doctrine & Covenants 64: 33-34

I couldn't help the tears that formed in my eyes. This must have been a scripture that gave comfort to my ancestors. They had to have been so tired of being persecuted, driven from place to place, and despised wherever they went. They had to have been weary of the daily work that never seemed to be enough, while many of them lost their children or husbands or wives to mob violence, disease, exposure and hunger as they crossed the plains.

In the super convenient modern world, I had found myself complaining to my husband that I am tired. And I am. I am so tired. But there is no way I could be more world-weary than they were.

"Be not weary in well doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great."

Abigail is a very small thing. She is tiny. But she has carved out a large space in our hearts that drives us to be more than we were, to be worthy to see her again. And that is a great thing.

Verse 34 reminded me of the message I felt like I heard or saw, to "Live for the Lord."

"Behold, the Lord requireth the heart and a willing mind." It ends with the promise of good things to those who give their all.

There's another scripture that comes to my heart as I ponder on these things: D&C 122:8

"The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than He?"

Of course, even these gifts of understanding don't make me totally okay or past my grief. In fact, sometimes they are met at first with bitterness. But I can't deny they are gifts. They are the grace that is sufficient to the day. They teach me line upon line and give me strength to take the next steps in my life. They give me that precious ingredient for a life of joy:

Hope.

Less Than Two Weeks Left with Our Abigail Réileen

We made it! 35 weeks is considered term. Abigail Réileen is still inside, growing and kicking with those beautiful feet. She is every bit as strong as my other babies. We still have more than a week until the scheduled C-birth. I'm happy for that because we aren't emotionally ready to say goodbye yet.

Our last ultrasound of Abigail at 35 weeks, her right foot from heel to toe

Two days ago we had our last appointment with Dr. Feltovich. She is a doctor of maternal fetal medicine at the hospital where we will be delivering Abigail Réileen. She's the one who diagnosed Abigail with ABS and helped us to plan the right birth for her. Her kindness and understanding have been indispensable over the past few months.

This week I started packing our hospital bags, which I haven't had to do in 13 years! Abigail has a whole bag separate from mine because we have so many special memories we plan to make with her. I'm grateful for that opportunity. There are people from three different organizations coming to help us make memories, just out of the goodness of their hearts: ❤️ Angel Watch, Common Bonds, and Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep.

Less than two weeks remain.

In the last trimester of every pregnancy up to this point, I have always reached a point of physical discomfort that made the upcoming birth a can't-wait-for-it moment. In some cases, I got so impatient, I took matters into my own hands and tried to spur labor with natural remedies. Of course it never worked because babies have their own ideas. Sam was due on Valentine's Day, which is his great Grandma Joyce's birthday, but instead he came a week early when my water spontaneously broke. Corbin, our current youngest, was due on my birthday but decided to stay on the inside for three extra days, much to my chagrin. The only child who came almost on his due date was Daniel, who was born more or less on his due date, the morning after Memorial Day. We sang Amazing Grace and Danny Boy during the night-long labor.

Five natural births, four of which were home births and one of which was unassisted, have taught me that I am much stronger than I ever could have imagined, and also less patient. Waiting on the baby is one of the struggles of the last trimester. It feels very strange this time to be scheduled for a C-section and to know when that day is going to be. It's also different because, rather than hoping to see the end of this pregnancy soon, I wish it would just go on forever. Even feeling braxton hicks contractions makes me nervous. We are still actively making plans for the birth.

I asked the mothers and grandmothers in the anencephaly facebook support group for children's book titles to read to Abigail on the day she is born. Whether she is born alive or sleeping, we want to read to her on her birthday. Someone suggested the book On the Night You Were Born. My first thought when I saw the title was that she will be born at 7:30 in the morning. I know that. The pattern for most of my children's births is that I labored for a day and a night and they were born near dawn, between 3am and 6am. The one exception was Layne, who was born at 1:30pm, but that was just because he didn't want to go to church that Sunday. (I kid, I kid.)

I think the book I'm going to bring is Love You Forever by Robert Munsch. That's the book I've been reading to my children all along, and it wouldn't be right if Abigail missed out on that tradition. I recently learned that the author actually wrote the song for his own babies who died, and then built the story around the song. Isn't that amazing? The grief and love of one father resonates in a song that millions of parents and grandparents around the world have sung to their little ones!

It goes so well with a message I've been getting from heaven lately, about ripples. I think we all think it would be so amazing to change the world. How many songs are written with that very theme? Change the world! We want to feel powerful and meaningful, like our lives mean something. It's one of the hardest things about infant loss--having a child who has rocked your world and yet nobody else even knows he or she existed. That feels wrong because meaning is meant to be shared. Robert Munsch found a way to do that in his book that has forever enshrined the lullaby he sang to his two sweet little babies who didn't stay long enough to utter a single word.

But the concept of ripples operates on the understanding that it doesn't take a big splash to make an impact. Even a tiny ripple, stretched out across the water, can reach distant shores. Somehow we are all impacting one another in this way, with a smile, a phone call, or a thoughtful gift. Even with a disagreement and forgiveness. We are forever touching each other's lives. Even just hearing about one person choosing a higher path can inspire some stranger to do the same.

On Sunday I couldn't go to church. In addition to my body being just plain uncomfortable at 35 weeks and 185 lbs, I'm getting over some congestion in my sinuses. When my husband came home, he handed me a book, lent by some church friends. It was Blaine M. Yorgason's book, One Tattered Angel.

I read it all on Sunday, finishing it by dinner that night. It's about a baby girl that comes to them as they are serving as newborn foster parents. She has hydrocephalus. The story is all about ripples, how each person who meets baby Charity is lifted and changed by her sweet spirit, and even how preparing to receive Charity as a family brought them closer together. I could relate to this on some levels, though their story is fundamentally different from ours because they are adoptive parents and their journey with her began after her birth.

Also, our Abigail likely won't live nearly as long as their Charity did, and that means that all of Abigail's impact is being made in the very short time of her growth in my womb and her birth. Maybe she will continue to have an impact in our lives, if we are attuned to more spiritual things, since she will be with us in spirit. We take it on faith that this is true. It hurts that Abigail won't have much time to make an impact on others, but I have been touched by the few people who have told me that learning about Abigail's situation helped them to see their own children in a new light.

The way ripples work, we will probably not even know all the people she has touched with her short life and with the stories we tell about her. It's another thing we'll have to take on faith. We do know that every child of God has a purpose, and Abigail is a child of God. She has changed me, and I believe our whole family will be forever changed because she came to our family. If the song is true that claims, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return," then at least Abigail has learned the greatest thing. And any parent who has lost an infant at any stage of development can have the peace of knowing that their babies were loved and that they also learned the greatest thing.

Born the Same Month as Her Brother

Source: https://pixabay.com/photos/michelangelo-abstract-boy-child-71282/

My birthday is coming up tomorrow (Feb 8th), but I'm not quite as excited for that as I am for Abigail's birth. I used to think that it was coming in March, which was true until Mom decided to have an early one on the 25 of Feburary. "Is that OK?" she asked me. I was astonished. Why would that not be OK? Then it hit me. My mom was born the same month that her older brother was. My uncle's birthday is a day before my mom's. He is exactly 4 years and a day older than her. Now I saw why my mom asked me that question.

I am both excited and nervous for Abigail's birth. Being nervous can be a good thing sometimes. I once went to a Tween Author Boot Camp. I was very nervous. The last thing I expected to happen was that I would win. Those who didn't win were thrown into a pit (I just made that up but it was still pretty scary). I won first place in my age zone. That experience exceeded my expectations greatly. I'm glad I didn't have pride before I knew the results because I would have had less enthusiasm finding out that I won. I believe that being nervous for Abby's birth is a virtue. I know that she will bring love to our family. I know that she will do other great things for us that we just don't know about yet.

Source: https://pixabay.com/illustrations/puzzle-heart-love-two-hearts-1721592/

I can tell that my little sister's birth will be a very special one. I can feel her love and I know that she will never really die. I will always have room in my heart for her. Nothing can give me more peace than to know that she will always be here with me. I am proud to say that I have an angel as a sister. Abby is my angel friend now and forever.

BIRTH UPDATE:

Abigail's birth was very special. You could just feel the love reflecting off of Abby and onto everyone else. She is and was a very special baby and we love her just as much as she loves us.

Searching for Mission and Meaning

Abigail Réileen is very loved. Every day we tell her we love her and I can feel that love like a wave through my body as it travels from my thoughts into her experience in the womb. It's one of the few gifts I get to give to her.

As I seek ways to honor her and also to rediscover purpose, mission, and meaning in my life, I am pleasantly surprised to find that there is something I can do right now in my life as a student at BYU majoring in Neuroscience.

In my path toward graduation, it's time to join a lab. Yesterday I visited with Dr. Stark and discussed what it would take for me to join his lab. He is doing work on the molecular basis of neural tube defects like Anencephaly and Spina bifida. One night when I couldn't sleep, I went to BYU's neuroscience department website and searched the labs and research going on at BYU. When I came across Dr. Stark's brief description of his research, my heart leapt.

Even though Abigail doesn't have classical Anencephaly, because hers was caused by amniotic band syndrome interrupting development of her head, I have gotten to know many other Anencephaly mothers through the process of coping with our initial diagnosis. We have something in common because we have all been told 1) that our babies are going to die, 2) that there is nothing anyone can do, and 3) that it isn't our fault and nobody really knows why it happens. For future pregnancies these women are often prescribed high doses of folate to protect against neural tube defects. But even so, some of them still have a second baby with Anencephaly. Many of them have rainbow babies, a healthy baby after an infant loss, but never stop wondering how their angel baby happened.

I know first-hand how understanding can be a salve for grief. Clarity goes hand in hand with comfort for those of us who just need to know. And knowledge is power, especially if research can find something more in terms of the factors, genetic and environmental, that are leading to this blip in development within the first thirty days of an embryo's life.

When I saw Dr. Stark's research, I felt joyful. An oft-expressed lament in the Anencephaly group is that the medical industry is disinterested in our babies. They often simply recommend termination upon diagnosis, as if it won't feel like as much of a loss if we stop the baby developing before we feel him or her kicking in there. But there's no hope given for the possibility of life, and it feels so wrong that nobody is doing anything to try to save these babies. As a parent all you want to do is protect your child. When I saw that someone IS doing research on the developmental hiccup that causes Anencephaly and Spina Bifida, I felt happy.

So I waddled across the BYU Life Sciences building and braved the stairs yesterday in order to meet Dr. Stark. On my way there I saw this sign.

I wonder at what God has done in my life, bringing me to this place where I may be in a position to help others.

It's not a done deal for me to work in Dr. Stark's lab. I have preliminary work to do before I can be accepted, and Abigail's scheduled birthday is in three weeks, so much of it will have to wait until my whole family is in recovery mode. It gives me hope to think that I may have a purpose going forward, that there is something beyond this monumental countdown to Abigail's birth.

If nothing else, it makes me happy to see that research into this phenomenon is ongoing and that a driven and capable scientist like Dr. Stark is doing it. Through him I've learned that others are doing research, too. Where Dr. Stark is studying the biological mechanisms and how known instigators of neural tube defects actually work, others are studying the genetics angle. Of course none of this pertains directly to Abigail's amniotic band syndrome, which doctors have explained to us as a "fluke." And even if it did, it wouldn't guarantee us more time with Abigail. None of this brings back the children of these other women, either.

All we have been left with is a forward-facing mandate to keep living for our babies and our surviving family. And that has to be enough.