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Is There a Fight Song?

An emotional day came upon me yesterday. As I was called by a fellow loss mom. 

In all of the months leading up to this point, my go to sourcing quote was "Have Faith"- "Have Faith because Gods got this!" 

Even when I didn't have a strong faith myself. I knew there was a bigger plan. Bigger than what my brain had the capacity to fathom. Bigger than our biggest fear. Deeper than our deepest secret. God has a storyline for us. 

But then it happened. 

She called. 

Baby Noah was delivered. 

All I kept thinking was- "Dear God- let her say that he is okay!" I began to get restless with nerves. 

No heartbeat. How can this be? He was just here. Hours ago, he was kicking me, Amanda. How can this be? 

Driving to the hospital was one of the longest drives but walking the hallways to find the hospital room was yet, longer than that. 

And as I turned the corner to a hallway, with a nurse pointing me down the hall, I felt all the anticipation of what was to come. 

I came upon the room, the door was open. And there he was. There she was. Mom. Defeated. Holding her baby boy. 

My heart sank. Completely Depleted. 

As I tiptoed in, I couldn't help the tears welt up in my eyes. 

This beautiful mother had delivered her baby. 

This same strong mother was told "there was no heartbeat" just hours prior- now holding her precious baby. 

I sat down beside her, doing nothing but holding her.. holding them. I couldn't muster up any form of sentence because the welt in my throat was so big. 

You know, the welt you get from choking back tears.

Sitting beside her, rubbing her back, I watched her heartbreak. I carefully took in the moment. Her soft caresses to his bottom. Cradling him so perfectly in her arms. Knowing that this would be the first, last and only time that she would get to hold her beloved child in her arms. 

Then she asked it. A question I was not prepared for. One that I didn't even think about. 

Do you want to hold him? 

It took me but a moment, a moment to think about my babies. My children that I've held in my arms. 

As I took baby Noah in my arms, I saw each one of my children. I saw Ari, as she was my firstborn and I was beyond scared. I saw Bo, being my first boy. And I saw River, who was my rainbow after my storm. 

I held him. Studied his face.

As I sat there a moment, I felt myself outside of my body. Almost as if I were a balloon. A balloon that was floating off. Floating off to the place I do not like to go. That place that welcomes me every time I enter. That place where the devil lives and prods at me when I'm weak. 

My balloon wandered for a moment. And in that moment, I was walking through his bedroom door. Grabbing him up and doing compressions. I was pressed up against his tiny lips, blowing everything I had into him. 

And just like that- in the hospital. Watching the doctor do compressions. Seeing my baby hooked up to an EKG and feeling his ice cold body. Laying next to him, whispering. Please baby, mommy is here. Let's get up and go home. 

No. I did everything I could, now get those thoughts away from me! 

It's not about me! It's about Noah! Stop it! 

...I struggled. 

As I regained control of my balloon, 

I came back down to the present moment. Life right now and the absence with struggle that was upon me. 

As I witnessed this mothers strength and love for her son, I was reminded that he didn't hurt. He never felt pain. He didn't have to endure surgery or broken bones. He was loved his entire life, and felt nothing but warmth from his mother. 

As I gave Noah back to his mom, I realized a beautiful fact. 

How beautiful is it to think that the very first thing he saw when his little eyes opened was the face of Jesus. 

The face of Jesus. 

That my friend, is all the fight you should ever need. 

To this mother, you know who you are. 

You're an inspiration to so many. Please don't give up. Your babies love you and continue loving you from afar. 

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