I have had a burden on my heart to write about my feelings through our experiences, because I know there are so very many families going through the same type of tragic heartbreak that we have endured. It is beyond difficult to face sharing such a life-altering, private moment with others. But there is a time when speaking out can aide in someone else's grieving process or someone else's recovery. Because that's what it is ... a recovery—a recovery from deep, emotional trauma and unrelenting heartbreak. You will never be the same. You will never be whole again—but you can face the day-to-day.
On December 15, 2015, we had our 4th child—a baby girl named Scarlett Ruth. We didn’t have long to get to know this little early Christmas gift, but in the six days that we had her to love and to snuggle, we felt that ultimate bond that only a parent and child can form. On December 21, 2015, Scarlett passed away from meningitis caused by a rare enterovirus that crossed my placenta during my pregnancy and began attacking our little girl. The stats given to me by the doctors after her autopsy … 1 in 2 million chance that this virus would harm the fetus. Not the kind of jackpot you want to hit. On December 27, 2015, we held a memorial service for our sweet baby, and began to piece together a life that would never be like the one we used to know.
There is a novel of moments, emotions, and experiences that I could write about here, but I will keep this blog relatively short. I do want to lay out a few of the reasons why I am even able to speak about this today:
Besides the actuality of the death of a child, the next most difficult part is explaining all of this to your surviving children. The chaplain of the hospital, at the time, told Bill and me to be honest, but to refrain from scary language that would make them fear things like sleep or becoming ill. I can’t say I remember all of what we said to the children that day, but I do know that as Seventh-day Adventists, we believe that death is not eternal—that death exists as a deep sleep where "the living know that they will die but the dead know nothing.” (Ecclesiastes 9:5, NIV) We hold on to the promise that, at Jesus’ second coming, the dead in Christ shall rise, and an angel of the Lord will deliver the babies back to their mothers. What a promise to cling to! We have four living children; our second eldest child and our first daughter is Khloe Colleen. She is 7 … going on 8 this September. When Scarlett was born, she was 4. I am a quiet, internal processor, as is Bill, and through this, we found that so is Colton … Alice was just much too small to really understand any of this at all. But Khloe is verbal. She wanted to and needed to talk about Scarlett and what had happened. She needed to ask questions, and she needed to sort it out through verbal communication. Speaking only for myself, that was simply awful! I remember hearing Colton say (quite annoyingly) at one point, “Khloe! Stop talking about it!” At that point, I realized that Khloe needed that support, as much as Colton longed for the silence. I told him to let her speak ... that it was her way of healing, and if he couldn’t handle it, he needed to leave the room. But never to tell her to stop talking about it again. Equally, those words were for myself. Unbeknownst to me, Khloe’s desperate need to “talk-it-out” gave me a kind of therapy that would help me to work through and process my grief. I believe that this is true for Colton (and Bill), as well. At 4 years-old, Khloe was the one who saved us all. Without training or education in the art of grief counseling or therapy, our 4 year-old daughter led us all through the darkest place we have ever been in our lives. Doesn’t God work in amazing ways?
One thing I have truly come to understand and to live by is the truth that the power of prayer is unequivocally effective. James 5:16 (KJV) says, “ … the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” Our life-line to God is through prayer. I will admit that, though there were definitely times in my life prior to this experience where I fell on my knees in prayer with a desire to connect with Him, I don’t think that I had ever truly realized the awesome power of prayer as a direct connection to God through the Holy Spirit—and its true ability to heal! What He can do when you pray, when others pray for you, and when you pray for others is truly magnificent and undeniable. What do you do when a friend, loved one, or acquaintance has gone through a tragic experience? What do you say? How do you act? You often want to know “what can I do?” A kind word, a hug, the offering of a helping hand or meal … these things are all effective to a degree. They let that person know that they are cared for and loved. This is definitely needed and a widely accepted practice as people grieve together during difficult situations. But I have found that as much as people try to "say the right thing” or to “do the right thing”, there is no exact “right thing”to say or do … except pray. Tell them that you are praying for them. Offer to pray with them. Remind them that you are continually keeping them in your prayers. And make. sure. that. you. follow. through. God hears those prayers, and it is just that—the prayers of your friends, family, and community—which He uses to lift you up and pull you out of the valley of death … out of the worst moments of your life. To get up out of bed each day, to face life while life continues all around you, to go through the mundane acts of living, like making dinner or taking a shower—it can only be explained as the prayers of my friends and family being lifted up … and God hearing those prayers and wholeheartedly carrying me through. For me and my family, your prayers were everything. That was the most you could do, and you did it. Nothing was said to me that I remember, except, I am praying for you. Thank you to all who did (and still do) … God heard you—He still hears you, and I have felt the results of those prayers. There is a jewel for your crown waiting for you in Heaven. It’s scarlet. ♡
There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about Scarlett in some way or another. Sometimes, it’s very simple … seeing a drawing done by my 5 year-old, Alice, who never forgets to color Scarlett into the family picture that she is making, or a mention by my daughter, Khloe, that she can’t wait to teach Scarlett to walk someday (as she attempts to teach her newest baby sister, Harper, how to walk). And, of course, there are times when it cuts to the very core of my being … when I am hit with a memory from those fleeting moments with her, or when I looked into the face of our youngest at her birth a year ago, and my heart yearned to hold Scarlett again. It’s at those moments when I hold tight to His promise: “Death, where is your victory? Death, where is your sting?" But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Corinthians 15:55, 57 (NHEB). Death has no hold on our lives, because He is risen. It is finished.
“He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.” Revelation 22:20 (KJV)
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| Scarlett Ruth Heinrich |
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| Santa came to the hospital. |
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| Meeting Big Brother and Big Sisters |
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| Our only family picture. |
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| Headed home. |
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| Always in my heart. ♡ |
