In Memory...

In Memory....

by Christian Wulfsberg

We named him Noah...that was the name God had given us, even before we knew he was a boy.

Carrie was having a hard time with this pregnancy, less than a year after the birth of Hannah, our 3rd child and first daughter. She was exhausted, her body still not recovered from the last pregnancy. I had a new position at work, and we were not on the same page very often.

Just after the holidays, when the stress of the season was winding down, when Carrie was warming to the prospect of another baby (as opposed to being overwhelmed by the prospect of more work), we went to her OB together for her 5th month checkup. Call it God's providence, His protection, I don't know. I don't normally go with Carrie to her appointments, but I wanted to that day.

Carrie told me later that she had had her suspicions over the previous days due to lack of fetal movement, but she hadn't let on. I will never forget the image on the ultrasound screen, nor how I felt as I waited for the nurse to stop adjusting the sensor and the screen to fill with the movements of the baby, as it had for David, Jonathan, and Hannah. At first I thought that the baby was just asleep, but as the nurse remained silent, I realized I couldn't see the heart beating, and my heart fell into the floor...the nurses words were the biggest understatement anyone has ever made to me -- "There seems to be a problem." I waited for reassurance that everything would still be all right, but it never came.

It seemed unreal to me, as if I were a spectator in my own body.

I don't remember much of the rest of the visit, except the OB saying that there seemed to be a neurological problem evidenced by an open spinal column. I clung to the belief that God had mercifully and sovereignly decided that Carrie and I were not up to raising a special needs child -- until the next day, when Carrie delivered a perfectly formed baby boy. The cause of death? The unusually long umbilical cord had wrapped around my precious son's neck, choking the life from him before he ever saw the light of day.

I will never forget the sense of loss I had, looking at him, wondering if he suffered, praying he didn't. Surprisingly, there was no anger, and still is none. Just grief. As fresh today as that day almost two years ago, when I held a tiny, lifeless hand, and understood why God had told us to name him Noah before we lost him. His name means "rest and consolation".....

So I'm sure you will understand why we named our youngest Elianah. It is an uncommon name in America, in fact, I don't know anyone else by that name, for it is Hebrew, and it means "My God has answered."

I miss Noah, too....still.

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