Joshua Andrew Lunsford was the son of one of Ken’s nephews and his wife, Rebecca. Joshua would have been seventeen years old this year, but sadly, he died in utero two months before his expected birthday. Learning of his passing was one of those “time-standing-still” moments for me. I had, just the week before, announced to the world that Ken and I were pregnant with our second child. I even remember talking to Bekki (I think she goes by Rebecca now, but I have always know her as “Bekki”) that week to ask her to return a book on childbirth that I had leant her when she was expecting her daughter, Samantha. I told her that I needed it because just a few short months after her new baby arrived, his/her new cousin would be born. I hung up the phone smiling, thinking about how exciting it would be, having two new babies in the family.
A day or so after that phone conversation, Ken came home wearing his “I have something to tell you that will really upset you” face. He was clearly shaken. He said, “Bekki lost her baby today.” My immediate response was, “Bekki who?” I just couldn’t believe he was talking about Bekki Lunsford… she was in her third trimester already… women didn’t “lose” their babies in the third trimester! Ken held both of my hands and quietly told me that Bekki’s baby had died. The intensity of the feelings I had in that moment is hard to describe adequately. First, I was absolutely heartbroken for Bekki and her husband that they were having to say good-bye to their sweet child before they were ready. Next, I felt a tremendous amount of guilt because their baby was dead and there I sat, with new life growing inside of my body. Last, I was terrified! If Bekki could lose their baby at seven months, how could I not worry constantly about our newly conceived child? It was one of the deepest sorrows I ever remember feeling.
I couldn’t bring myself to attend Joshua’s memorial service. I figured the last thing Bekki and her husband needed to see was a newly pregnant family member. So, I ordered white baby roses with baby blue ribbon and sent Ken to the service with instructions to hug Bekki and her husband and tell them how much I loved them and how heartbroken I was over their loss. I stayed home and cried.
Joshua Andrew Lunsford went to Heaven seventeen years ago this week. Bekki posted about it on Facebook. Remembering that time stirred something in my soul and made me want to talk about Joshua (thank you, Bekki, for allowing me to tell his story) and three more little Lunsford babies, lost too soon. These children all belonged to Ken and me… babies we lost after Benjamin was born.
Ken and I were both in our early thirties when we married, so we got a late start trying to have babies. To complicate matters further, six months prior to the wedding, I had been diagnosed with endometriosis, a condition that can cut a woman’s fertility by as much as 75%. Our chances of getting pregnant “the old-fashioned way” were pretty slim, but Ken and I put it in God’s hand and prayed that He would bless us with children. It took about a year, but finally, we got two lines instead of one on a pregnancy test. Nine months later, our sweet little Jesse Kenneth Lunsford was born. We were so elated and almost immediately decided to start trying for another baby. This time took longer… almost four years. But once again, God blessed us and expanded our family with another precious boy, Benjamin Kendrick Lunsford.
We decided about half-way through our second pregnancy that we would love to have one more baby. Since I would turn 37 the month before Benjamin was born, and since the endometriosis made it so hard for me to get pregnant, we decided not to use any kind of birth control after Benjamin was born. We figured, based on our past experiences, that it would take at least another year before we’d conceive again. So you can imagine our surprise (and delight) to find that when Benjamin was only seven months old, we were pregnant again. Ken and I looked at each other, giggled, and said, “What have we done?”
At the first appointment with the doctor, the one to confirm the pregnancy, we were given some devastating news. A routine ultrasound revealed that there was no heartbeat. I can still remember Dr. Brown looking at me with kind, sad eyes and saying, “Melinda, this is not going to be a viable pregnancy.” A breathless agony came over me, too deep even for tears at that moment. All I could do was squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. Dr. Brown went on to talk about how common miscarriage is (man, I HATE that word!) in the first trimester and that it’s no one’s fault and that, in most cases, they don’t know what causes it. All of what he said was the truth, but none of it was what I wanted to hear. He told us what to expect when the miscarriage occurred. We went home to wait. The next day, when my body started trying to expel what should have been our child, it was such a feeling of betrayal. Women’s bodies are made to nourish and nurture new life, not get rid of it too soon. When it was finally over, I felt emptied out—body, mind and soul.
Dr. Brown told us that we needed to wait at least six weeks before trying for another baby, so as soon as six weeks had passed, we started trying again. Eight months later, we had another positive test. The trip to the doctor this time was much more subdued. I was terrified. Dr. Brown smiled reassuringly and told me that it was unusual for a woman to experience back-to-back miscarriages. But the look on his face when he did the ultrasound confirmed my fears that this baby, too, had died. Our hearts, still grieving for the first baby, were crushed.
When we lost the second baby, things in my body got all out of whack and Dr. Brown decided I needed to have a D&C. Ken and I had already decided that even though we longed for another child, we couldn’t keep putting ourselves through the heartbreak of losing them. No one mentioned to us that one of the best times for a woman to get pregnant is just after having a D&C because everything in the uterus is all cleaned out. Not knowing that, coupled with all of the upset that was going on in our lives and the fact that it always took us such a long time getting pregnant, we didn’t think to use any kind of birth control. So, two and a half months after the loss of our second baby, I found myself staring at another positive pregnancy test. I couldn’t even bring myself to say it out loud to Ken… just called him into the bathroom and pointed at the test.
I didn’t want to go to the doctor. I was so scared of what he would tell us. But, he said everything looked good and that we should try not to worry. But the next day, he called and said my blood work showed that my progesterone level was a little low and he was going to prescribe some medication to bring it back up. Ken and I had already decided not to tell anyone about this baby until we got past that critical three-month mark, but the only pharmacy in town that could compound the medication the way Dr. Brown wanted it was the one where one of Ken’s nieces worked as a pharmacy tech. So much for keeping it a secret. We were due to go on vacation the next week and Dr. Brown said there was no reason for us not to go as long as I took the meds he prescribed. The only thing I clearly remember about that vacation is that I felt like I was holding my breath the whole week. I couldn’t bring myself to even consider that this pregnancy would be successful and that we would have a new little Lunsford after the first of the new year.
About a week after we got back home, I started bleeding. I had been through this twice now… I knew how it felt when my body was “letting go”. An emergency trip to the doctor confirmed what I already knew in my heart. For the third time in a row, our baby had died. Dr. Brown wanted to do another D&C, but I told him I would only let him do it if he would agree to tie my tubes at the same time. He tried to talk me out of it, but I couldn’t bear one more heartbreak, so he finally agreed. I had always wanted a houseful of kids, but for some reason, God was telling us, “Two is enough”.
I learned through the loss of our three babies that miscarriage is a subject that few people are comfortable talking about. Some of the things people said to me were simply astounding. Here are just a few that I remember…
- “You know, miscarriage is nature’s way of taking care of a baby who would have been born deformed.”
- “There was probably something wrong with it… God was just saving you from future heartache.”
- “You can always have other babies.”
- “You shouldn’t dwell on it. Just be thankful for the two children you do have.”
- “It was God’s will.”
And my all-time favorite… spoken to me by a close family member…
- “It’s good that you lost them so early. After all, they weren’t really babies yet, only clumps of cells.”
SIGH… I guess most people, especially those who have never lost a child, don’t really know what to say, so they say things that are sometimes hurtful and dumb. Ken and I would have gladly loved and cared for ANY child we were blessed to have—even a child with birth defects or illnesses. The joy the child would have brought would have far outweighed any heartache. I am extremely thankful for the two healthy sons that Ken and I had, but that does not mean I don’t miss the three who died before I even got to see their sweet little faces. I know that there is purpose in all that God allows to happen, but I have a hard time accepting that it was His will that three of my children would die. And as far as it being better that we lost the babies so early, the Bible is very clear in Jeremiah 1:5 when it says, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you…” They were NOT just clumps of cells. They were children—mine and Ken’s children, and our grief for them has been real.
Though I never got to hold my babies, I hold them in my heart and look forward to the day when I get to hold them in my arms. Every once in a while, I get a little jealous that Ken got to meet them before I did, but I am so comforted to know that he is with our children in Heaven, while I am with our children here on earth.
We named each one of our babies. Since they went to Heaven before we could know if they were sons or daughters, the names had to be suitable for either. So we named them August Angel Lunsford, Spring Spirit Lunsford, and Summer Storm Lunsford. Each Christmas I hang angels for each of them on our tree. I want to remember them. I want their brothers to remember them. They were important. They were wanted. They were loved. They were my children.
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