by courtney hicks
I’m often told that I’m so strong to overcome everything that I have been through. It’s often said, I don’t know how you get up every morning. That’s when I start to question myself. Should I feel more hurt? Should I still feel the sting that I felt on those horrible days?
Let me just give you a backstory…
In 2012 I married my best friend, the one I know God hand-picked just for me. Just a couple months later we found out that we were pregnant, it was a girl. We couldn’t hide the excitement. On December 26th, I woke up with a horrible pain in my neck. After being checked in at the ER and having my vitals taken, I was sent to Labor & Delivery. My blood pressure was so high that it was required that I be seen by the doctor on call.
I was taken to Labor & Delivery triage and they couldn’t locate a heartbeat on the Doppler so they called the doctor to come in and do an ultrasound. I’ll never forget what happened next. He stood in front of the machine so I couldn’t see… then turned to me and said, “See right there. That’s where the heartbeat should be.” Did I really just hear him right? He just checked me out one week before and she was perfect. After those words, I don’t recall anything that was said. He told my husband that there was nothing they could do for the baby, but now they had to focus on saving my life. My kidneys were starting to shut down. My blood pressure was so high they were worried I would start having seizures or possibly die if they didn’t act quickly.
I was immediately moved into a room and given medication to start the delivery process. I recall telling my husband that I wanted to go home, that I couldn’t do this. My family came to lend support and I remember seeing my dad cry for the 2nd time in my life. The first time involved me too, but that’s another story for another day. Roughly 12 hours later, I gave birth to the most beautiful baby girl I had ever laid eyes on, Farrah Adin, all 1 pound 3 ounces of her. Four days later I was released from the hospital to attend my daughter’s funeral. I don’t recall a lot about the funeral. I remember the church being packed with family and friends, people hugging me and telling me they were so sorry. I remember my husband speaking and some music being played. I remember my mom holding me and sobbing. But what I remember most of all was a burden being lifted. I felt peace. I knew that she was safe. I knew where she was. She was sitting at the feet of Jesus.
After the loss of Farrah, Cristian came to us and wanted to be loved. Not only wanted to be loved, but he wanted to be loved by us. He has an amazing birth father that loves him more than life, and now he has 2 more people that love him more than they could ever tell him.
Fast forward to March 2014 and I gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby girl, Mercy Kaye. She is a ball of energy and reminds me every day what life is about.
Press fast forward again to August 2015, when we found out that we were pregnant again. But not just pregnant, pregnant with twin boys! After talking to my doctor, we agreed that I should transfer to a high risk OBGYN. On my second routine visit to the doctor, they decided to do an ultrasound. When you’re pregnant with twins, it’s hard to get both heartbeats on the Doppler so they often opt for an ultrasound. As the ultrasound tech is doing the ultrasound, I notice that she is very quiet and scans over Baby A very quick. My gut is telling me something is wrong, so I ask her very bluntly, “Is he okay?” She puts the wand down and tells me that Baby A doesn’t have a heartbeat and she’s going to get the doctor. With tears streaming down my face, I call my husband. “We lost Asher” were the only words out of my mouth. Within what seems like minutes my husband is by my side grieving another loss with me. I’m kept overnight for observation and placed on moderate bed rest until delivery of both babies. On February 4th I notice that what I assumed were Braxton Hicks contractions were happening more frequently than normal. After laboring all day, I had an emergency C-section and gave birth to a handsome baby boy, Hudson William Judah, at 4 pounds 12.8 ounces. He was 8 weeks early and spent the first 15 days of his life in the NICU. After a few days of recovering we had a burial for Asher William, our 2nd stillborn child. No mother should ever have to bury a child, let alone 2 of them that never took a breath of air.
So back to how am I so strong? I’ll tell you…Jesus. Without Him, I wouldn’t have made it. Without Him, I would be lost. A friend shared this verse with me after we lost Farrah.
Unless the Lord had given me help, I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death. When I said, “My foot is slipping,” your unfailing love, Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy. – Psalm 94:17-19
Did you just read those words? Your unfailing love supported me. Your consolation brought me joy. How amazing is that? I looked up the meaning to unfailing… it means reliable or constant.
So how do I wake up every morning? I wake up the same way you do. I hit the alarm clock, my feet touch the floor and I immediately start praying. I thank Him for another day. I thank Him for giving me the opportunity to share my story. I thank Him for the 2 healthy children I gave birth to and the one that chose me (Cristian). I thank Him for the supporting people He’s placed in my life. I thank Him for the family that supports me during the hard times. Although I experienced two tragic losses, I also received three amazing blessings. Three times Jesus gave me hope for another day. Three times He showed me grace after I cursed Him.
You see one day, my story will help someone. My story will help them open up and feel that burden being lifted. They will come to me and say, “Thank You.” And I will walk this hard walk with them. I will tell them about my Heavenly Father, how He loves them with unfailing love.