When our first baby Roman was three months old, my husband and I found out we were pregnant again. We certainly didn’t think there was any way after 3 years of trying for Roman that we would get pregnant so soon after but we were excited. Two under two.
Our pregnancy was normal and in a few short weeks, we found out that we had been blessed with another son. We always liked biblical first names and the meaning behind one’s name, but we really liked for God to choose the names of our children. Before he was born, Brian and I decided on the name Noah Wilde – which means, “rest and comforter”.
When I was 34 weeks pregnant at my regular OBGYN appointment, I found out that my cervix was already 2 centimeters dilated. Because of Covid restrictions I was alone and emotional. It immediately brought back flashbacks of my pregnancy with Roman where my water broke 6 weeks early and he had to be in the NICU for a few weeks.
I remember sobbing while sitting in the chair my husband should have been in and telling our doctor I desperately didn’t want a NICU stay with Noah. I wanted to go in and have an unmedicated birth like I planned from the beginning, then take my sweet baby home the next day. Little did I know, the emotions of this day were a small preview of what was to come.
Only days later, I felt off. It was a Friday and after finding out our OBGYN had no appointments, they suggested the hospital since I was already dilated. At triage, Brian and I were told that Noah was okay and it was possible that maybe I was just dehydrated. Their recommendation was an overnight hospital stay for monitoring since I was now dilated to 4 centimeters. They gave me fluids, and through the night I had no contractions and Noah’s heartbeat continued to strong. Noah displayed positive stress test results and before we were discharged, the following day, I was told to “take it easy”.
Within 24 hours of being discharged, I noticed Noah had not been as active as usual. I reached out to the travel nurse, who had delivered Roman, and who I was still very close with. She immediately told me to go to the hospital. Once we got there, our worst nightmare was confirmed. Noah’s heart had stopped and my sweet boy was no longer alive.
I remember throwing my glasses off my face and asking my husband, “how is this God’s plan for us?” That was my first sentence after such heart-wrecking news of the death of our child. I had immediate flashbacks to conversations with our last triage nurse before Roman was born. She had told us that Roman wouldn’t come out breathing and right then and there, I prayed against the doctor’s diagnosis of Noah, my unborn son who was still “safe” in my stomach.
Brian began calling our parents and sharing the heart-breaking news about Noah through tears. I sat a began petitioning with the Lord that the doctors were wrong. In the back of my mind, I listened to the questions that poured out on the other end of the phone and heard Brian’s uncertainty as he attempted to answer them.
The hours that followed were a blur. I began taking pitocin and the doctors were quick to give me epidural upon request so I felt no pain during birth. The pitocin took away the pain of the contractions but not the physical pain I was feeling for Noah. Those 12 hours that followed were spent lying awake talking to God. Pleading with Him to perform a miracle for Noah. Believing that the doctors had it all wrong and that the Lord was going to move in a mighty way, a way that only He could.
Soon it was time to meet our boy and after 15 minutes of pushing, Noah Wilde was born on March 9, 2021. Completely silent – except for our own weeping and the tangible presence of the Holy Spirit.
I remember Noah being laid on me and laying my hand on his chest, begging the Lord to breathe back into his lungs. Knowing that the Lord was going to perform the miracle. Knowing that I had the mustard-seed faith for Him to move mountains. Believing with everything in my bones that Noah would be healed on this side of eternity. But that’s not what the Lord had for Noah.
The next weeks and months after Noah died were painful. At first, I questioned God and His plan for us. I questioned why we even conceived. I was angry that the doctors didn’t keep me in the hospital the first time when I was already dilated. I was angry that if I had stayed that they could have noticed something was off and took measures to “save” him.
I didn’t understand how things changed so drastically in 24 hours. I desperately wanted answers knowing that none of them would bring me the comfort of having my son healthy and in my arms again. No autopsy could confirm answers for me. There were no right answers. Nothing made sense, even worship seemed foreign.
I remember talking with my grandma in the coming days. Her gentle voice whispered to my spirit saying, “Praise Him anyway”. In the same week more advice for me to cling to during grief came. “Don’t lose Your faith”, said my aunt. These reminders were the turning point back to Jesus for me. Not that I ever actually turned away from Him, but I was angry. I wanted answers and I wanted clarity. These were reminders that God is sovereign and He deserved my worship regardless of the season I was in because He already gave everything for me at the cross.
Brian and I immediately jumped back into the Word. We started a faith-based devotional to help us communicate our grief. We purposefully said no to get-togethers and we valued our family time together on an entirely new level.
My relationships instantly took a back seat. As much as I wanted to engage in the seemingly meaningless conversations, I simply couldn’t muster up the courage to continuously answer the question, “how are you?” – even if they meant well. My mind was grieving on autopilot and I was putting what energy I had into ensuring my marriage didn’t fall apart, my faith didn’t fall apart, and that I was a good mom to Roman.
About 4 months after Noah had died, I found the Lord tugging at my heart for Mother of Wilde’s ministry. That started an entirely new healing journey for me, being able to connect with bereaved mothers who had lost children. Their stories were all different and many longed to find hope after child loss and “keep the faith”. I was inspired by them so I kept going.
Founder, Mother of Wilde