As we began our lives together we talked of having children, later. But to our surprise in March of 1992, we found out that I was twelve weeks pregnant. Fear covered us. It was all we could do to make ends meet with just the two of us. How would we manage with a baby?

After a while we got used to the idea and excitement overtook us as we began to prepare for our little bundle of joy. A baby bed was purchased, toys were brought in, and the countdown was on!

The pregnancy was completely normal and there was absolutely no reason for concern. At 41 weeks the doctor decided it was time to induce labor. It was a very hard labor and, although it only lasted seven hours, the effects on my body will be with me forever.

Nicholas Daniel Wilson was born at 1:30 p.m. on October 20, 1992. Later in the evening, the grandparents came in with big goofy smiles all over their faces. We were so excited. Everyone was looking at this little guy like we had never seen a baby before! He was beautiful. We all got our fill for the evening, then the family left and daddy and I sent Nicholas to the nursery so we could get some much needed rest to tackle the next day.

On October 21 the nursery brought him in to us, and within a few minutes the doctor came to get him for his circumcision. Twenty minutes later they brought him back to us, and then a doctor (whom later proved to be an angel) came in and said that he had not cried during his circumcision. She wanted to run a few tests to try to figure out what was wrong. And so the wait was on.

The doctors at the NICU had said that they would come in periodically and let us know what was happening, but the waiting continued and the day passed by with no answers. As night came we tried to sleep. All during this time my husband and I could go see him whenever we wanted, but we could not hold him because he was hooked up to all sorts of monitors. What an awful way to begin a life. 

Day three began and the tests continued. By late afternoon the doctors knew it was fatal but still were not sure just what it was. Finally, in the evening, the doctors came in with the results. The thief of our baby’s life was an extremely rare genetic disorder called nonketotic hyperglycenemia. The name was much bigger than he was. We were so devastated. Our first child, our beautiful baby boy, had only hours to live and there was nothing we as his parents, his protectors, could do. We cried.

On the fourth day they let us stay in the NICU because they knew that it would not be long. How does any parent plan the funeral of their precious little baby? We were so young ourselves; we had no clue where to begin. These are things you really don’t want to have to think about, but when reality slaps you in the face you have no choice. Late on the fourth day, October 24, 1992, our little “Nickel” (a nickname we gave him early in my pregnancy) went to be with the Lord.

Early on the fifth day we packed up our things and the nurse handed me a beautiful little quilted bag containing the belongings of our son. This is all we had to take home with us. As we drove away from the hospital, silence filled our car and thoughts of the baby that should have been filled the car seat. When we entered our apartment, we felt just as empty. What now? Where do we begin? We had to step into the rest of our lives without our son. How does anyone do that? Were we the only ones? Certainly there hadn’t been anyone else who had gone through this before. How could someone bear an infant death? We were completely numb. We feared we’d never survive this, but we had to be strong. We couldn’t let others see us this weak.

Being as how we had never planned a funeral, we didn’t know where to begin. So we went to the only funeral home I had ever been to and the only cemetery I knew of. We now began the horrific act of planning our baby’s funeral. It was the most awful experience we had ever endured. The funeral home director was not the most sympathetic person we had ever met either. This made things a lot harder than they needed to be, but we got through that day nonetheless and found ourselves burying our first son, Nicholas Daniel, on October 26, 1992. Now the dreaded yet absolutely necessary grieving process would begin—or so we thought.

We didn’t know what to think, what to say, or what to do. We didn’t know how to grieve, especially over the loss of our child. We didn’t even know what to say to each other. We had some very dear friends who let us use their car and who had a condo in Saint Augustine all lined up so that we could “get away from it all.” (Little did we know that this was not the healthiest thing to do, but at the time we felt like it was.) When we returned from Florida, every “baby” thing in our apartment was gone! Our family and friends were just trying to help and yet this turned out to be another big mistake. We should have stayed in town with our memories and dealt with them. Our only son had just died.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, we became silent with each other. Danny and I lost our ambition. We just didn’t know what to say anymore. It was during this time that we found out that we were pregnant with our second child. All of the “what ifs” began to surface. What if this one had the same disorder as Nicholas had? What if he dies? How could I go through this pregnancy not knowing? It was scary and I wasn’t sure what to do. I ended up going to a genetic specialist to get some advice. He informed me that there was a test that could be done to let us know if this child had the same illness. We decided to have the test done and by the grace of God our second child, Timothy Michael, was born healthy on August 29, 1993.

I wish I could say that from that day on we lived happily ever after. But, sadly, that is not the case. Danny and I continued to grow further apart. We’d heard that this could happen when you lose a child, but we never thought it would happen to us. And yet, it did. Divorce papers were filed and I was ready to leave. I guess you could say that I just wasn’t happy with myself. I was still hurting for the child that was gone and I wasn’t going to let anyone else get close to me, not even my own husband. The bottom line is that we never grieved together over our loss. Then, almost before we knew it, we had another child to take care of and we lost sight of what we should have dealt with in regards to Nicholas. Over time it left us all feeling dazed and confused.

But my husband refused to give up on our marriage and after a lot of prayer (on his part), plus several friends stepping in to minister to us, our marriage began to get back on track. We got involved with a great church and life was good. I still wanted more children though. My husband on the other hand did not. I knew that if this were going to happen, it would have to be God. So I began to pray. I prayed and prayed for God to change his heart to want more or to change my heart not to want more. I couldn’t let this be a thorn in our new marriage. It took some time but God finally did change Danny’s mind (or should I say his heart).

In January of 2001 we decided that it was time to plan for our next little bundle of joy. Thinking that I would be pregnant quickly, I was really excited. I just knew that we would be enjoying our new baby by Christmas yet January, February, March, and April all came and went. I was beginning to think that it wasn’t meant to be. By the end of the summer I was really discouraged. Finally, on October 31, 2001, I had a positive pregnancy test! My dream had come true and Timmy was actually going to have a sister or brother to play with. After everyone was told the good news, the anticipation began.

We had decided to sell our house so that we would have more room for the baby, but after about two months on the market it just didn’t feel like that was what we were supposed to do. So we told our realtor that we thought we needed to wait and we immediately got busy on rearranging our house. Everything was so perfect, I was going to get to stay home with this child, spend all of my time with both of our precious children, and just have fun. We turned our office into a nursery by painting the walls a beautiful yellow, getting a pretty white bed, and even painting bumblebees on the walls. I was so excited! We finished redoing our home just six weeks before Eli Joseph (we had found out that we were having a boy) was due. Whew! Now we could relax a little.

I had done so well during this pregnancy; I had lost weight (something almost every woman dreams of), didn’t have a lick of caffeine, and took no medication. We had even decided to have a natural delivery. Everything seemed to be going great.

On June 9, 2002 I went to the hospital for what turned out to be a false labor run; however, they decided to keep me overnight to monitor me as a precaution. The next morning my doctor came in to see what was going on and decided to do an ultrasound before he released me “just to make sure all was still okay.” During the ultrasound the technician couldn’t get our little Eli to move. She tried and tried to no avail. There was a strong heartbeat though and he was even trying to breathe. We went back to our room.

Meanwhile, the technician called my doctor and told him what she had found on the ultrasound, then the doctor called my room and said that he wanted to do a stress test (a fairly routine procedure) to see how Eli would react during real labor.

After an hour of testing my doctor came in to read the results and they were not good. He informed me that we would have to do a cesarean within the hour. At that moment my world came crashing in. I wanted to go natural (no drugs of any kind), and now I was facing a cesarean! I felt like I was in the middle of the worst nightmare of my life. I was heartbroken, but it was for the well-being of our child. I could do this. I had to do this. My husband was awesome; he was right by my side the whole time. I couldn’t have done it without him and God. We headed into the operating room, they got me ready for delivery, and at 2:13 p.m. on June 10, 2002, Eli Joseph Wilson came into the world.

Everything went really well during delivery—as well as any cesarean could go—and when they put him in front of me I saw that he was simply beautiful. He had my nose and his daddy’s hands. What a cutie! Daddy took him with the nurse to the nursery to get him all cleaned up and big brother got to help too. I returned to my room within a half-hour after giving birth. I still couldn’t feel my legs, but other than that I was doing good. I picked up the phone and began to call friends and family. Our sweet baby was finally here! Just a short time later they moved me to my post-pardum room. It was huge and the whole family piled in. We all took turns loving on our little Eli. Then it was time for Danny and I to get some rest. (Okay, by this time I was hurting just a little, but the excitement was too overwhelming to notice.)

Our precious little guy stayed in our room all night. We had wanted him for so long that we just couldn’t bring ourselves to send him to the nursery to let someone else take care of him. I sat and stared at him all night. I couldn’t believe my eyes. We really did have another baby after all these years.

Danny was the first one to change his diaper. He insisted; he would not let me do it. That was his little guy and he wanted to change his diaper. On the second day we had a lot more time alone with him and we really enjoyed it. In the evening our family came by to see us—or should I say him. He was so good! He didn’t cry or fuss at all. Although we were very proud of this pleasant demeanor, we began to have a few concerns. Were we seeing the same signs of what Nicholas had? Surely not; we had prayed so hard for this baby and he was definitely an answer to our prayers. We tried as best we could to just put our fears in the back of our minds and enjoy our new little family member.

On the fourth day while we were preparing to go home, the pediatrician said that he was a little concerned; Eli wasn’t doing what he should be doing. As the pediatrician went to get the NICU doctor (the one we had seen before with Nicholas) we were scared. At that point our fears were turning into reality. How could this be? How would I be able to lose another child? It felt as though my heart was being ripped out of my chest.

When the NICU doctor came in, she greeted us then began to look over our son. As the smile disappeared from her face, she let us know that she too was concerned. Then she took Eli with her to get some tests started. Danny and I sat in the hospital room and cried. Reality had hit us; we knew his destiny before the results even came back. The family was called. More tears were shed. Another dream was being shattered. We called our church and ask that they start praying. We desperately needed strength, but all along we knew that we had each other and we had God.

Later on that day the doctor came in. She gave us the horrible news that baby Eli was indeed dying. We had been here before so we knew what not to do, and we knew that we had to do something different this time. We wanted to share this tiny life with everyone. He was very special and we needed all our friends to see that. As we called people to tell them the news, we told them they were more than welcome to come and see him. Our hospital room had about 25–30 people in it that night. It was such a special time; our friends were praying for our child and for us. We even had a time of praise and worship. It was a moment that we will never forget. There were many sweet spirits in our midst that night. When the last person left, we cried again. We were so exhausted. That night we put our precious baby Eli between us on the bed and held him all night, knowing that we wouldn’t have this opportunity much longer.

On the fifth day, we held our little angel all day. Several of our friends came by again, just to see him one more time. It was a long day. As the evening came, so did the knowledge that the time of his death was close at hand. At this point Danny and I decided that we needed to be alone with our child for the last little bit of his precious life. We lay there on the hospital bed holding our child, wondering at what moment he would take his last breath. We hugged and kissed him through the very last beat of his heart. It was just after midnight when our third child, Eli Joseph, went to his home in heaven where his older brother Nicholas was waiting for him. This was our second loss in ten years. Once again, where do we begin?

We were so blessed to have had a wonderful hospital staff. They really cared about our child and about us. We knew they were feeling our pain every step of the way. That is something special, when the doctors and nurses share their heart with you. As we were packing our things to go home on that lonely Saturday morning, one of the NICU nurses brought us yet another quilted bag, this time with the belongings of our third son in it. It was at this point that I realized my collection of quilted bags was way too large. Once again we walked out of the hospital without our son and the car seat remained empty, except for the shattered dreams.

Through these last several months of healing, we have held on tightly to God for our strength. The following verses have meant a great deal to me over this time and I feel certain that they will be a blessing to you as well:

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking in anything” (James 1:2-4 NIV).

“Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him” (James 1:12 NIV).

“In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed” (1 Peter 1:6-7 NIV).

“Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in Him” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14 NIV).

“Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to Me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Matthew 19:14 NIV).