I am resurrecting this blog following the death of my baby girl, Cora Lane Nelson. Sounds depressing, doesn't it? I assure you my purpose in writing is not to depress anyone. My purpose, rather, is to share with you both the shadows and slivers of light shed on this dark path of grief and in doing so, hopefully encourage your heart and mine with the truth of God's Word despite the difficulty of understanding it amidst this loss.
Some of what I share will be painfully honest, but there may also be times when I choose not to post something because it wouldn't have been edifying. Grief brings many kinds of thoughts, helpful and destructive. I do my best to choose the ones that bring life and light. It's not always an easy choice, but I believe that's what I'm called to do. I apologize in advance for my frankness about infant death, but when it happens to you it's almost impossible to be anything but frank. If you are one who may be put off by it, this blog is probably not for you. And that's okay! But, if you have experienced something similar or have some connection to Cora herself, I pray you find these thoughts encouraging and at least informative.
I began journaling specifically about my grief about two weeks after Cora went to be with Jesus on July 27, 2012. I recently asked my husband, Evan, if I should share some of my writing on a blog. He thought it might be a helpful way to process both for me and for others, friends and strangers alike. What I share on this blog will be portions of my written journal.
But first, let me say a bit about Cora. She was a wiggly baby! Everyday for the past four months or so I delighted in feeling her stretch and squirm. My due date was coming up fast, and my mother had flown in from Pennsylvania to be with us for Cora's arrival. We busied ourselves with yard work, shopping, dining out...all the fun things moms and daughters like to do while waiting for babies to arrive. My due date came and went. The doctor had been talking about induction, but when Cora scored a perfect ten on her "health tests," the doctor said it would be okay to wait and let Cora come on her own time. I wish we had induced. Three days after my due date, our world fell apart. I had stopped feeling that sweet stretching and squirming, and Cora's heart had stopped beating.
We prayed there would be an obvious reason for her death that would be revealed upon delivery. There was. The cord was wrapped around Cora's neck four times. It was impossible to have known or prevented her passing. As my mother said, "She twirled herself right into the arms of Jesus."
And so began our journey down the road of grief.
August 6, 2012
"For the thing that I fear comes upon me,
and what I dread befalls me.
I am not at ease, nor am I quiet;
I have no rest, but trouble comes"
"Therefore I will not restrain my mouth;
I will speak in the anguish of my spirit;
I will complain in the bitterness of my soul."
What I feared most happened in late July 2012. Cora Lane, our sweet baby, died in the womb, three days overdue. She was small and lovely, even though her little head lolled lifeless and her tiny jaw fell open. Six pounds, eight ounces, she was perfectly formed. Her long fingers were slender and graceful though they did not clutch mine. I held her body tight though her soul had long since departed to Heaven. She had soft strawberry-blonde hair and perfectly intricate ears. My Cora, God's Cora.