He was perfect. Yes, at fourteen and a half weeks, perfect. He had his Pawpaw’s feet and already looked so much like his big brother. At first, it was confusing. He didn’t look sick, he was beautifully formed. I kept thinking, “just put him back. He will be fine.” My mind just couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that one minute I was happily pregnant with triplets and the next minute I was holding a tiny, lifeless baby in my arms.
A few weeks later, I found myself living the nightmare once again. In the early hours of the morning, I once again held a tiny baby who no longer drew breath. This time there were two. Two more beautiful little boys who never got to run, play, or grow old. Just like that my womb was empty and my heart was shattered.
What I didn’t know then was that one in four women will experience the loss of their baby. While each story is unique, there is one thing we share. Those of us parenting after loss will so often be taken back to the day our baby died. A moment of joy or grief will sweep in and transport us back to that moment we lost everything.
I’ve come to realize that as hard as I try, I can’t go back to the day before my baby died. I search my memories for that naive happiness I once felt, but it is no where to be found. When your baby dies you experience things that will forever change you.
On the day my babies died…
Our son’s little brothers died. All of the snuggles, disagreements, wrestling matches, and hugs they would share disappeared.
I felt my babies kick inside my womb even though they had been gone for hours.
Milk leaked down the front of my hospital gown while I sobbed and begged for someone to make it stop.
I begged God to take my life instead.
My husband put aside his pain to comfort me. On the outside he was calm and steady, but on the inside he was flooded with rage and heartache.
I sang ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ to each baby as I held them tight and committed every detail of their tiny faces to my memory.
A woman I’d never met covered my babies with a blanket and rolled them away for the last time as I stared in disbelief.
A thousand other memories from that day will stay with me for all my days.
You see, my babies weren’t all that died that summer. The “me” I was before died too. I’m not the mom, wife, or person I was before their lives were cut short. Ten years later I’m still not sure if I’d say something broke inside me or if the grief simply unleashed something that was there all along. The death of my babies forever changed me.
In a way, I am stronger. When facing challenges, big and small, I often channel the strength I used to pull myself out of that dark, lonely time. I remind myself that whatever I’m facing could never be as bad as losing my children. I literally survived the worst, so daily battles don’t discourage me.
I’m also grateful for every moment I have with my children. I don’t mean to imply that people who haven’t experienced loss aren’t, but I look at my four boys every day and know without a doubt that I am blessed beyond measure. On the days that being a mom seems to be just too much, I remind myself that it is a privilege to parent these sweet little people.
I share this now because it matters. It matters to the woman, who as I type, is sitting in a hospital bed as her baby draws his last breath. It matters to the woman who can’t get out of bed because the pain is too much. It matters to the man who is fighting for his marriage because he and his wife don’t know how to communicate with each other with the grief that is so raw and new. It matters to the older couple who wonder what their daughter might have been doing if she would have had the chance to grow into an adult.
As I held my boys those warm, summer mornings, I promised each of them I would share them with the world. Their impact in this life is different than I had hoped, but so very important. If sharing my story provides comfort to even one person experiencing pregnancy or infant loss, then it is a story that deserves to be told.
I want survivors of pregnancy and infant loss to know it is okay to be changed by the experience. It is okay to handle the grief any way that they see fit. Each story of loss is filled with unique twists and turns. There is no one-size-fits-all way to handle the loss of your child.
For weeks my social media feed has been swarmed with conversations surrounding abortion. I’ve read articles discussing the horrors of late-term abortion, angry pleas to legislators to reconsider new abortion laws, and stories of women who ended the life of their child for a host of different reasons.
I’ve often thought of what I might add to this conversation. For so long I thought it would be Johnny’s story I would use to share my thoughts on abortion. I would tell of the beautiful, perfectly formed baby boy that I held in my arms after a mere 14 weeks and 5 days gestation. Our first tiny triplet son that I delivered at home that warm summer morning was just that…perfect. His long fingers and toes reminded me of his Pawpaw. His sweet face looked as though he was merely taking a nap. Never mind the fact that he fit into the palm of my hand. I wanted everyone to see that he was already a baby in every sense of the word even at 14 weeks. How could anyone abort their baby if they could see how “human” they are so early on in pregnancy?
That’s the story I thought I would tell. But sitting here today, when this topic is weighing on so many people’s mind, I find myself finally ready to tell an entirely different story.
Over the years I have shared about our struggles with infertility, the loss of our triplets, parenting after loss, and our journey with adoption. I have chosen to be open about every detail of my walk through motherhood in hopes of supporting someone else that might be navigating a similar path. There is one story I’ve never shared, though. I’ve never shared Asher’s story. Not the whole story anyway.
There are four words I have always left out of his story. Four words that I’ve never spoken out loud or so much as typed onto my computer screen.
I had an abortion.
Saying it, even now, sounds strange. I argue that he was one of the most wanted little boys in the entire world. I had been flat on my back fighting for his life for 16 days before making the decision. The decision that ended his life.
I had made it to 17 weeks pregnant with our remaining two triplet sons after Johnny’s passing. I had never wanted something as badly as I wanted them to survive. But in the early hours of the morning, Jaxsen couldn’t be held inside any longer, even through the stitches placed carefully to prevent his birth. I was sick. Horribly sick. An infection coursed through my body, and the babies and I wouldn’t all be able to survive the cards we had been dealt.
I’m often taken back to the moment when the doctor stood over my bed telling my husband and I that I needed to be rushed into surgery, but that our final baby would likely not survive. It plays back in slow motion now eight years later. I can still see my husband’s head solemnly nod in agreement before I blacked out.
I woke up hours later after surgery and knew my womb was empty. I wasn’t conscious when Asher was taken from my body. He is my only baby I don’t remember delivering. One minute he was safe inside my belly, and then he was gone. The weeks and months that followed were gut-wrenching, empty, and numb.
It wasn’t until months later that I even thought about what really happened that day. I was sifting through a pile of mail, when I ripped open yet another medical bill. As I read through the insane charges, I realized what I was being billed for. My abortion. I trembled in horror as I read the words. It must be some mistake. Who was playing this cruel joke on me?
You see I never really thought about the fact that my husband and I had chosen my life over our son’s. It’s true that he just could not have survived at such a young gestation, yet he wasn’t born under his own terms. A doctor removed him from my womb to save me. He was still alive and well until the procedure. Medically what I had done was just that, an abortion.
I bet that when my friends share articles about abortion online they don’t imagine the range of emotions someone like me might be feeling. When I read the word “abortion” my head starts to swirl. I question the decision we made in the hospital that morning. I know that no one looks at me, the mom of four, as someone who has been affected by abortion. Strangers could never see the pain and devastation that I carry with me always.
I know those close to me would never judge me, but I worry for women that do not have a support system. What message do these accusatory, no room for discussion articles send to women who have no choice about their child’s future. What do they say to the young woman who truly feels like abortion is her only choice?
I guess I’m confused with my feelings about abortion. I’ve never been one to judge someone for such a deeply personal decision, but I am also horrified at the thought of terminating a pregnancy without medical necessity. Am I pro-life? Am I pro-choice? My thoughts start to blur when I think about where I stand on such an important issue.
I do know that no two abortion stories are the same. I know that some might say I don’t have the right to share my story because it “isn’t that bad.” But my baby died because of a decision I made. Whether I had an option or not, I will carry that choice with me forever.
I share this story now because I think it is important. I share it for the fact that it might matter to even one other person. Maybe a mother out there can relate to my feelings of regret about the decision I made. Maybe a woman needs to know that there is life after abortion. I will carry the hurt with me always, but I have found a way to have peace and happiness in my life once again. Maybe they can too.
Most importantly, I hope to illustrate the point that maybe abortion isn’t as black and white as we wish to make it. Perhaps it is a debate with no resolution in sight. What I do know is that if we navigate the conversation while keeping our hearts open and full of love for the very people that are connected to the tiny humans we wish to save, we might just help more than we hurt.
My heart begins to race when I sit down to attempt writing Jensen’s birth story. The emotions of the day flood back to me bringing tears instantly. His birth day was so different than his big brothers’, but also so much the same. It was a day filled with worry and uncertainty, but also that special kind of joy and love that comes the day you meet your child.
I wrote about the events leading up to Jensen’s birth in my first and second blog posts about his adoption. I share his story proudly in hopes of reaching someone who is unsure if adoption is for their family, someone who is newly navigating an adoption journey, and for Jensen to read later and know how loved and wanted he has been every minute of his life.
We waited eagerly by the phone on July 24. We were waiting to hear that the birth mother had showed up to the hospital for her induction. She was a few hours late and we wondered if she was okay. At around 10:00 pm we got word that she had made it to the hospital and had begun checking in.
Mike and I packed the car and headed to the hospital to offer any support she might need. This was hard. We didn’t know exactly what she expected from us, and certainly didn’t want to overstep. When we arrived, we visited her room and were able to give her a little care package for her stay in the hospital. We visited with her a little bit. She had two of her friends with her and we heard that her mom would be with her too. I had worried for a while that she would be alone during her delivery. A tough part of this story is how alone and unsupported this sixteen-year-old girl had been throughout her pregnancy. I was so relieved that her family and a few friends were able to come and offer support.
The hospital offered us a courtesy room to stay as we waited on the baby to make his debut. We checked in around midnight and tried to get some sleep. We were very fortunate to be able to get text updates throughout the night. Around 6:30 in the morning, the birth mother got her epidural as she was fairly uncomfortable and not progressing too much. About thirty minutes later we received a scary update that the baby’s heart rate was dropping and the doctor was concerned. They began discussing a c-section, but decided to watch closely and try to avoid it. I remember praying so hard for the sweet, young girl to be able to deliver naturally. I knew at her age a major surgery was terrifying. The doctor broke her water at around 7:24 am, as we waited nervously down the hall.
Exactly six years before, we had been sitting in a hospital as I prepared to deliver our sweet Gavin. He was the baby we didn’t know if we could have. He was the baby that came after our great loss, and the baby that fought against all odds to be with us. We underwent months of infertility treatments trying to conceive him. I had to have surgery to carry him, and had little reason to believe that my body would be able to grow and deliver a healthy baby ever again. But on July 25, 2012, our rainbow baby came screaming into the world. He healed a piece of our hearts, and gave us hope that ultimately led us to try one more time when we added a third little boy to our family.
So here we sat, not-so-patiently waiting to welcome another baby on July 25th. Since it was Gavin’s sixth birthday, Mike grabbed me some breakfast and headed home to surprise Gavin with his special birthday request. He had asked for dinner for breakfast and breakfast for dinner, so Daddy stopped by Sonic and grabbed burgers and fries at 8:30 in the morning. We assumed he had plenty of time to eat breakfast with the boys, and didn’t want Gavin to feel disappointed on his birthday.
Baby’s birth mom asked for me to come see her, so I got around and headed to her room at 10:06. As I got to the door, I saw nurses and a doctor huddled outside her door having an obviously urgent discussion before darting off in different directions. Right then I got a text from inside the room telling me I couldn’t come in, and needed to wait for an update. I felt like I actually heard my heart fall to the floor standing there in the hospital corridor. I quickly walked back to our room and instantly began praying for the baby and his precious mother.
A few minutes later, I learned that the baby’s heart rate once again dropped dangerously and they couldn’t get it to come back up. The doctor pleaded with the birth mother to have a c-section, but she did not want to agree. She was so scared and confused. Luckily, she had a trusted adult in the room who was able to explain to her the urgency of the situation. At 10:15 am they whisked her off to surgery, as I continued praying (almost begging) for God’s protection for this young girl and her baby.
I walked out to the front desk to meet Mike’s mom who had arrived at the hospital, and a few moments later I heard the door to labor and delivery swing open as the most joyous words rang out, “Allison, your son is here!” At 10:32 am, Jensen Dean Smith was delivered by emergency c-section. He had the cord wrapped tightly around his neck many times, but he was healthy and absolutely perfect. Our sweet boy was 7 pounds, 15 ounces, and 20.5 inches long. He had a head full of dark hair. We received word that birth mom was doing great and we could see them both when she was moved back to her room.
A little over an hour later, as our boys and our family waited in our room, Mike and I met our son. He was snuggled tightly in his birth mother’s arms when we entered her room. With a smile on her face, this sweet, young girl placed her baby in my trembling arms. I don’t know if words could ever do justice to that moment. My heart shattered and rejoiced at the same time. I wanted this baby so much. Mike and I had planned and prayed, and loved this boy for only a few weeks, but he was ours in every sense of the word. Somehow though, I almost expected his birth mom to change her mind. As soon as I saw him, and saw the way she looked at him, I had no idea how she would let us be his forever family. I held him tight and kissed his sweet face before handing him to his Daddy. When I saw Mike’s big, loving hands wrap up that tiny baby, it was almost like I heard God whisper, “it’s okay, he was always meant to be your son.” A peace washed over me and any reservations or worries I had subsided. It was a beautiful moment that will forever be etched in my mind.
We left Jensen with his birth mother so she could give him his first bottle of donated breast milk and love on her son for a while. She had family members that came to see him, and we would end up taking him back to her room several times over the next 24 hours, honoring her every wish. About three hours after his birth, at 1:23 pm Jensen met his three big brothers. They held him, kissed him, and loved on him as we came together as a family of six for the first time. Gavin was so excited to welcome his “birthday brother.” We even celebrated their combined birthday with party hats and a gift from Jensen to Gavin. I had brought along a wrapped Lego set from baby Jensen. Gavin was so happy that baby got him a gift! We declared July 25th our Double Rainbow Day. We have three rainbow babies, our boys born after the loss of our triplets, but two sharing the same birthday is just oh so special.
The birthday boys!
Jensen was able to meet Pawpaw, Nana, Grandma, Memaw, and Aunt Alicia that afternoon too. We FaceTimed with the Boysens to tell Uncle Travis that Jensen was to be given his middle name of “Dean” because he is one of the most amazing men and dads we’ve ever known. Travis’ life has also been shaped by two loving people taking care of him and loving him like their own when he needed them most, so it seemed like the perfect choice.
Aunt Erin stopped by later on that afternoon and Jensen got to meet one of his future best friends, cousin Waylon. It was so special having so many of our family members visiting us on that special day.
That evening everyone left to go to our house to celebrate Gavin’s birthday. My heart was aching to miss one of my kids’ birthday parties for the first time, but Jensen and I snuggled up at the hospital to FaceTime for the party. Later that night, my sisters Alicia and Candra came to visit. Alicia decided to stay the night with us because Mike needed to be home with the kids and had to work the next morning. I was so thankful she came to keep me company.
The next morning, my Mom came to spend the day with us. We had the most perfect, fun day loving on Jensen and taking him to visit his birth mother when she asked to see him. I very much needed my Mom that day. Taking Jensen in to say goodbye to his birth mom was very hard. I was in awe of how she handled it. I know her heart was breaking, but she was brave and strong. She held him, kissed him, and told him how much she loved him. I reassured her of the life her son would have. I promised her he would never want for safety, love, happiness, or family. I felt almost motherly toward her as I encouraged her to make this decision count. She has the whole world ahead of her, and the power to change her story. My hope is that in a few years, Jensen will watch her graduate high school and go on to lead a beautiful, happy life. I will cherish the time just the three of us spent together that day.
That evening, Mike brought the boys to pick me and Jensen up from the hospital. We walked out as a forever family of six. We passed some of Jensen’s biological extended family as we walked out and they said their goodbyes as well.
Mike decided a few weeks before the baby arrived to get a tattoo of an arrow (the symbol for adoption) and a bible verse to symbolize Jensen’s story in our lives. As we walked out of the hospital we noticed the same verse displayed on the wall. We smiled and excepted it as another sign of how “meant to be” this beautiful, unexpected journey has been.
I will write about the following five days some other time, but it was a faithful, hopeful time for our family. The five day waiting period tested us emotionally in every way. The doubt and worry weighed heavy on us, but we also trusted God’s plan for our new son. When day five came and went without event, we moved forward with finalizing the adoption.
Eight days after his birth, our son legally became Jensen Dean Smith. We sat before a judge and vowed to love and care for him always. A chapter in our family’s story that started a mere 13 weeks earlier, drew to a close as we walked out of the judge’s chambers as the proud parents of seven boys. Three of our boys have brought love and joy to every minute of our lives over the last ten years. Three of them changed the entire course of our lives when they went to Heaven, and they constantly push us to be the best parents we can be. And one tiny little baby came into our lives when we least expected it and showed us the true meaning of sacrifice, hope, and family.
When we found out we were adopting so suddenly, we had so much to think about. So many questions and concerns. Since we hadn’t even begun the process of adoption (it was merely a desire of our hearts) when we were connected with a birth mother, we had to make a lot of decisions very quickly.
The most important decision that I made was that we wanted to treat our new child and his birth, exactly the way we did with our biological children. I didn’t want to look back and feel like there were things I didn’t do for this baby that I did for our other boys.
Naturally that meant planning a gender reveal party! Even though we only had a few weeks to put it together, I think it turned out great. My mother-in-law handled the details and did an excellent job of giving us a fun party!
We love music and thought the theme was clever so we went with a Guns or Roses concept for the party. Who doesn’t love pink roses and water guns for a centerpiece?
The balloons were filled with pink or blue confetti. Three of one color and we would know the gender.
Each of us got to pop a balloon. The kids loved being involved!
Daddy popped the last balloon, but it had both colors! Moments later, blue balloons floated up from behind the house. It’s a BOY!Adorable banner made by my sister, Laura.
Beautiful cake with blue inside!
Three boys here, three in Heaven. This summer we welcome baby BOY number seven!
