Asher Enoch

June 26th. Ben and Deanna's 4th child, their third boy, was born, "and took his first breath in glory". Stillborn at 37 weeks, his death came as a shock, and with much sorrow to all of the family. When we heard they couldn't find a heartbeat, we prayed and prayed, and then after the ultrasound, where the baby was discovered gone...we cried and grieved -for Ben, Deanna and this whole horrible process they were about to go through in delivering this child, and as they mourned the loss of this baby.

I texted Ben that if they wanted, I would take this baby's first and last pictures after it was born. And I was so glad when he said yes to that. But I knew it would be hard. Something I wanted to do and didn't want to do.  Got the text at 7:15 a.m. the next day, that "the baby is born" and an hour later, I walked into McMaster hospital with some fear, and yet wanting to meet this baby. And then I spent the next hour taking this darling boy's pictures - with his daddy, his mom, and grandparents.

There's a lot I could say, about this darling boy, his amazing parents...but I'll just write it as letter to this little nephew of mine.

Dear Asher,

I think about you almost every day. Grieving for your family, and remembering the moments I got to share with you, just an hour after you were born. Walking into the room, and seeing your perfect little body stunned me, and I joined in the heart breaking cries from all in the room. When we all caught our breath again, I asked your dad if you were a boy or girl. I should've guessed by your knitted blue hat. :) A little boy. They called you Asher Enoch - Asher, because "happy, and Enoch, meaning he "walked with God" ". I cried again hearing that: cause you were completely happy - while your parents were in the middle of the shadow of death. A normal, yet hard paradox in the kingdom of God. But not hard forever.

Taking your first pictures, was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But something I wouldn't trade for anything. It was a honor, to get to touch you - to hold your darling hand, and see your perfect and handsome face. You are adorable, and look so much like your siblings. I got to see your footprints being taken with that cool transparent ink I didn't know they used for feet:) , to see you being dressed in your first outfit by your daddy, and you wearing your cute hospital hat. And I got to love you - in person- for a bit...though love outlasts this life. 

Your mom and dad were so strong their tears, through this unimaginable grief of losing you. The whole room just echoed with grief and sadness...but not of hopelessness. The whole time, your dad was reminding us all of the cross, and how Jesus' death had made it possible for us to see you again - his strength was in Jesus. Your mom was amazing - having just given birth to you, and must have been exhausted - yet the first thing she said to me when I walked in was, "Liz, I know this is hard for you, but we really appreciate this..." always thinking of someone else - even in the midst of her complete heartbreak. Your mom is like that - thoughtful and sensitive to others.

Little nephew, when we see you again, it's going to be glorious. It will all make sense then. But now, it's not really that way. We do see that there is hope, and there must be a purpose for you going to heaven without even opening your eyes, and we trust God in that. But we miss you. Especially mommy and daddy. There's a part of them that's no longer here - it's like you have it in heaven with you. They keep on, cry, laugh and have fun here with Hudson, Reuben and Eden - but in the back of their minds, you're there. But you're missing from them.

And though people try to understand and sympathize with your mom and dad, we just can't cut it. Only Jesus can comfort, cause He's the One holding you. He understands their breaking hearts, while he has you close.

The funeral that was held for you, was one of the most beautiful goodbye services I've ever been to. All the music, verses, and speakers that your parents chose was so appropriate. We aunts and uncles sang a song that Auntie Nelly wrote for you. It was hard to sing without tears. Your mom and dad wrote these beautiful letters to you, and we all just grieved together. Asher, I wonder if God passes on our love to you....wish I knew how that works. You don't really need this earthly, imperfect, incomplete love of ours now, do you? You have God's overwhelming love, which is everything. And yet, I think of my own babies, and how I still want to give them some of "my" love... One day, we'll know how it works. But more about your funeral: after the service, a bunch of us uncles and aunts got to say goodbye to you. You looked so handsome in your white outfit. Your fingers so sweet as Auntie Diane and Sarah held onto them. The grief felt, still grabs at my heart. I keep crying over you - even as I'm writing this, or hear a song that relates to your life, or as I edited all your newborn pictures. Yet, you little man,  didn't feel any of this sadness, or anyone touching you and loving over your precious body. But we still had to do that - cause we had to say goodbye.... when all you'll ever have to do is say "hello".

So enjoy heaven, til we all get there. Asher, you must be having fun with Auntie Bonnie, and all those little cousin babies that have made it there before you. And you are going to get one happy mom when she gets to see you!!

Love you, little man.
Auntie Liz

The cause for Asher's passing was his cord twisted and cut off all his supply - there was nothing anyone could've done - and clearly, God allowed this. It's something super rare, and there is no way to stop it.

Watching Ben and Dee, I'm so encouraged while watching them in the midst of their brokeness. I told James "I want the character they have, but don't want to pay that price". It's still really hard right now - and it will be. That's okay. That's part of the grieving process, and the loss of their son is something that forever changes you.

I can't imagine what it's like for Ben and Deanna right now - you hear a baby cry, and you think, "wait, that should be Asher." You see someone pushing a stroller, and your hands feel empty. Your arms don't have that baby to hold, yet your body is recovering from a birth. People think you've had a baby by now, and ask you where it is....and was it a boy or girl? Lots of painful reminders, yet it's just every day stuff.

I guess as an reminder to us all, if anyone you know goes through something challenging like this, or some other loss, something I'm learning from my very own little experience is -  not to "relate" to the loss. Just listen, and don't try to say "I've been there." There are many who have been in similar situation, but yet every story is different and special. So when you can, just listen and cry with those who hurt when they cry. It's not about our story, or our previous loss at that time, or to try to be comforting by saying the dreadful phrase: "I know - I've been there too". Cause, chances are, we don't know. :)

"God is near to those who have a broken heart..." so maybe we can just be try to be near too.

Until Heaven -