matthew

It’s been a month and a half since we heard those devastating words, “there is no heartbeat” in the ultrasound room. It’s been a month and a half without our sweet baby, Matthew Dalitso.

That day seems like an eternity ago, yet I can remember every detail like it was yesterday. Though time stopped for us on August 8^th, life kept moving on. We had friends stay with us, family came, we went on a family trip to Paris, I spoke at my alma mater, and life has continued to progress.

I still think of Matthew Dalitso every day. I don’t know if a day will come and go that I don’t think of him, and I’m okay with that. While I struggle to find the balance between grieving fully and taking the next steps of life, I do know one thing for sure: I don’t want another day to go by without people knowing Matthew’s story, which is really God’s story.

Very early on in the pregnancy, while I was so full of excitement and anticipation, I received a call from my doctor’s office. Some lab results came back unusual, and she wanted me to come in. The word “miscarriage” was used, and I was crushed. How could this be happening AGAIN? The wait to go to that appointment was excruciating. We told a couple of people who knew we were pregnant so that they could be praying for this, praying for our baby who seemed to be in trouble.

So many tears were shed, and I vividly remember getting ready that day. I looked down at my belly and prepared myself to say goodbye to our little miracle baby. I admit that I gave up a bit. I gave up on hope in the face of such unfavorable news. One of my best friends texted me that morning reminding me of God’s sovereignty, of His goodness, of His plan higher than mine. And most of all, of His love for our family and me. A little flicker of hope was re-ignited in my soul.

I walked into the office, face swollen from tears, head hung low, nerves shooting through my body. Wyatt held my hand as together we walked into the unknown. “Amy?” the nurse called. She ushered me into the ultrasound room quickly and quietly.

I looked at the ultrasound screen on my right. I didn’t know what I was going to see, but I reasoned that it wouldn’t be good. I peeked over at the ultrasound tech chart, and it read, “Amy, miscarriage” for reason of ultrasound.

I forced my eyes over to the screen. A little blob was visible. “What am I looking at?” I asked. The tech remained silent as she continued scanning. A little white light appeared, flashing rapidly.

“This is your baby,” she said. “And here is the heartbeat.” The most beautiful sound filled the room, the boom-boom, boom-boom of the little baby inside of me. The strongest heart pumping away. The life fully alive and well.

Time seemed to stand still as those sounds echoed through the room. I let the joy, the relief wash over me. I could’ve stood in that moment forever.

“Everything looks perfect.” What? No miscarriage? No issues? No emergencies?

My doctor soon confirmed the results. The baby was 100% healthy. “Perfect” was used yet again. And she said that she had no explanation for how our baby was so strong and healthy given the test results.

A miracle. Truly a miracle. We spoke those words. We cried. We praised Jesus! Our miracle baby defeated the odds, baffled the doctors, and showed us the power of God.

When we got home, I was struck by a sign hanging in our bedroom over our bed. It read, “It is well with my soul.”

Yes, Jesus. It is so well. I simply couldn’t believe that Jesus would be so good to us as to spare our child from the horrible diagnosis. That He would give us life. And the gift of seeing and hearing our baby doing so well.

A few weeks later we returned for a routine check up. We’d get to take home more cute photos of our baby, see him, and meet some other doctors. Wyatt and I were chatting casually about how the day was going when we strolled into the ultrasound room. And it only took 2 minutes of absolute silence from the ultrasound tech for us to realize something was very, very wrong.

Our baby had passed away. He was born into heaven days before the appointment. The level of heartbreak and shock was far beyond I can ever explain in words.

We returned home and I walked upstairs to tuck myself into bed. Again I saw the sign, “It is well with my soul.”

Jesus, it isn’t well. My heart hurts. My baby is gone. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Our baby was doing so great. He was our miracle.

And then it hit me. My deepest desire in that moment wasn’t for our baby to come back, but it was for my soul’s cry to truly be “it is well,” resting in Jesus, in my identity as His beloved, having everything I’ll ever need even in my loss.

I can’t say I’m always there. But I can say that God has been so gracious. That He is just as good now as He was on the day of our miracle ultrasound. That He loves me just as much. I may not always feel it, but I know it. And I will keep that song on repeat in my heart when all else threatens to muffle it out.

Baby or no baby, I know that it is well with my soul. I know that my God is the keeper of my heart and my life, and I am not overlooked by Him. I know that our babies are safe in heaven. I know that no matter what else comes our way that He is for me, He is with me, and He is crazy about me. That Jesus took on my sin, my fear, my shortcomings, my heartache, and the death and darkness of this world to make me His and unite me with my Father. If He did all of that for ME, won’t He continue His grace towards me? Isn’t that act enough?

It is well with my soul. Not because I’ve “gotten over” the loss of my baby. It is well with my soul in the depths of my grief and pain. Because Jesus is my greatest prize, my greatest reward, my greatest gift.

Below are photos from when I was pregnant with Matthew that I wanted to share to remember him by:

This was before I even knew I was pregnant, but a friend texted me saying she just knew I was from seeing this photo posted.

This one and these next few are from the days and weeks after I found out...

And this last photo was going to be our pregnancy announcement that I was going to share after that last appointment. I still want people to know about and celebrate the gift of Matthew's life in our lives. 

God is so good, and so gracious towards us.