The Tiniest Teacher

After writing my first post I came up with some other blog ideas… but then I felt that after introducing Nathan I should introduce my other children. I do not really want this to be a mommy blog, however I suppose meeting my kids is a way to lay the foundation to whom I am today. I would think that most of you would expect that this next post would be about our baby girl Leah, but I feel that I must first share with you about Madison… our 1^st daughter whom was born still. You see, my love and adoration for Leah is magnified by the missing part of my heart that Madison owns. So here I go… sharing my pearls… about a little girl that altered my(our) life forever.

Precious Footprints of Madison Kristine Joppa
March 2, 2006

First, here is the story of Madison:

On March 2^nd of 2006 I delivered our first child, Madison Kristine Joppa. She was absolutely beautiful. She had a full head of hair, soft pearl colored skin and the most perfect set of lips and mouth I had ever seen. At 2.1 lbs and 13 inches long she looked like a perfect porcelain doll. Madison was born still at 26½ weeks.

I had been on my way to work when I was rear-ended by a young girl eating a bagel. As we exchanged information, an ambulance arrived. I felt fine and did not see any need to go to the hospital, however Eric (on the other end of a cell phone) told me to go with them. He assured me he would meet me at the hospital & all would be fine. When the doctors looked for Madison’s heartbeat, and could not find anything so they brought out a different machine. Nothing showed up on that machine either - I was confused and scared. Just a week prior we had a checkup and everything was fine. The nurse wheeled us down for an ultrasound and our fears were confirmed as they found that our baby had passed away. The next afternoon, when Madison was born we learned from the autopsy that she had been gone at least 4 days. I have come to believe that God blessed us with a car accident (which had nothing to do with her passing) so that we would have the chance to hold and be with our baby. We were with her for two short hours. Due to the narcotics that they put me on, I do not remember much, however I do know that she was perfect as she slept peacefully in our arms. We have no answers as to why she left us or what happened. We are simply left knowing that our beautiful baby touched our lives – if just for a moment in time.

About a month later Eric and I began attending a local grief support group, Sharing Parents. This peer support group is for parents that have lost babies from the point of conception thru 6 months of age. Through this group we received the support and compassion we needed to travel this journey of grief and pain in a healthy manner. I am currently in my 4^th year of volunteering and 3 year on the Board. Last year I had the honor f serving as the President and this year I am a co-President. So… needless to say, the loss of Madison has impacted our life greatly in a number of ways.

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I have often found myself wondering what good has come from her death and what have I really learned from this experience of loss. So here goes… the lessons I have learned from my little lady Madison:

v    Life is not fair.

Ø    Life is just is not fair. Bad things happen to good people. Good things happen to mean nasty people. They just do. Death does not discriminate. 100% of us will die. Some too young… some possible not soon enough. But it is a guarantee… all living things will die. This reality does not make walking thru death or grief easy – it just means that logically this is a normal part of life. A required part of life. I suppose I could be spiritual and argue that death is the purpose of life. Despite this logic, I do not like death.

v    For me, compassion was something I needed to genuinely receive from others before I could give it away.

Ø    Before Madison entered my life my compassion meter barely existed. I clearly remember a friend that had a miscarriage and my response was a hurtful “well, 50% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. (Blah, blah,blah -insert insensitive comment here)”. Now I have learned to respond, “I am so sorry for your loss. (Insert actual human response here)”. I’ve learned to cry with those who weep and sit with those in pain. When Lazarus died “Jesus Wept.” (John 11:35) He showed human emotion and cried with the family while at the same time showing his own love for Lazarus threw his tears. It’s okay to cry. We should cry. And when Job lost his family if friends came to be with him and comfort him. They cried when they saw him, removed their fancy clothes, and threw dust over their heads in mourning. “Then they sat down on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights with no one speaking a word to him, for they saw that his pain was very great.” Job 2:13 Did you catch that? They sat silently for 7 days and nights. Perhaps later they questioned and went off on him… but they started with modeling how to support and love some one in grief.

Ø    I have also learned to stop the need to blurt out clichés and take the time to think ‘what’s it like to be them’ and to show honest compassion. Do you honestly thing a person who just gave birth to a dead baby finds any comfort in being told, “God needed an angel.” Is it loving or bring any joy to tell a person who has lost their spouse that their life mate is in “a better place”? Or to someone who lost a parent does the idea that "It was meant to be" bring any peace? For even those of us that know and believe in an eternity of peace with God in heaven these words can sting. For those that do not know or trust God… these words can build painful walls and hurt like a dagger. A simple “I’m sorry” and hug are worth about 1 million times more comfort than words spoken to “fix” the griever. Truth is you/I have said those words to comfort ourselves… not the person grieving. Be like Jesus and cry. Be like Job’s friends and sit silently just being there.

           

v    Finding the good in things can be tough.

Ø    Over the past 5 years I admit I have struggled with the verse: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28 Finding the good in Madison’s death has not been easy or something I can honestly admit that I have completely done yet. Have I learned compassion? Yes – but I can think of about a billion other ways to learn compassion besides loosing and then giving birth to a dead baby. Has our ability to minister and love to those in our church and relationship circle been expanded through this experience? Definitely – but isn’t there is a book or movie (or even someone else’s story) that could have taught us these lessons? I guess what I am saying is that I have a hard time finding the good in our child being taken from us. I struggle to see the good in the death of our dreams for her and our family.

I guess that at the end of the day the only thing “good” I can come up with is that our son Nathan is alive. Just by looking at the calendar, one can conclude that if Madison were here, Nathan would not be. Nathan is my special boy. I can’t imagine life without him.

So that is a little of what I have learned. I've learned to have joy in the children that are here with us - even when they cry out at 2am. Joy and gratitude that we do have two of three healthy children to kiss and tuck in at night. And joy, that despite the pain of this journey, I do trust in a God that loves me and my family and with His love, I can trust that we are exactly where we are supposed to be.

Madison,

"I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."

Love, Mama