perinatal hospice: a grief conserved

By: Abigail Dodds
body of Christ, culture, family, recommendations, sorrow, , 3 Comments on perinatal hospice: a grief conserved

My dad just had another article published in World Magazine.

It’s called, A Grief Conserved, and I recommend it.

Here’s how it begins:

“Something’s wrong with this baby,” my ultrasound technician told me. She had just scanned Mrs. Jones (a fictitious name) at 20 weeks and went on to describe her findings, findings that surely meant little chance of survival for that baby. As I later spoke with Mrs. Jones to relay the findings, she wept. I arranged an appointment with a maternal-fetal medicine (MFM) specialist.

The next day I received an urgent call from my patient. Through more tears, she described her visit in which the MFM doctor confirmed the grim prognosis. The baby would die, probably within a week or two. The MFM insisted on scheduling her for an abortion in three days. “Do I have to have an abortion?” she asked. I promised to call the MFM and assured her she did not have to abort.

The reality of unborn babies with fatal genetic abnormalities often goes un-talked about.  At least it seems that way to me.  I think it’s worth considering, especially for those of us who have had no reason to consider it: how we would handle a baby in utero that will almost inevitably die prior to birth?

The article continues:

“But what happens when a routine 20-week ultrasound shows a baby with a profound abnormality, possibly an abnormality that will certainly result in the death of the baby prior to or shortly after birth? Or when a genetic test is done and shows similar results and the patient then decides against abortion? What then?

Enter perinatal hospice, the brain child of Byron Calhoun, a pro-life maternal-fetal medicine specialist.

Perinatal hospice honors life. The woman carrying the disabled child receives extensive counseling and birth preparation involving the combined efforts of MFM specialists, OB/GYN doctors, neonatologists, anesthesia services, chaplains, pastors, social workers, labor and delivery nurses, and neonatal nurses. She carries the pregnancy to its natural conclusion. She and her husband are allowed to grieve and prepare for the short time God may grant them with their child while their baby lives inside or outside the womb. Such a process obviates the grief caused by elective abortion, killing the child before it could be born.

I think perinatal hospice is something worth knowing about and relaying to your friends.  We cannot know what the Lord may have in store for us.  Take a minute and read the rest of the article.  Here’s the last clip I’ll offer:

“Even those mystified by a patient choosing life have recognized the value of Calhoun’s idea, as perinatal hospice programs now dot the nation. But this mystery is no mystery to us. As Job 1:21 states, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”

on saying the right thing

By: Abigail Dodds
body of Christ, everyday, sorrow, , 8 Comments on on saying the right thing

I’ve noticed that there is definite protocol on what to say and what not to say when someone has experienced loss.

I’m not sure anyone knows exactly what the protocol is, but it’s out there, eluding people, nonetheless.

My mom said a funny thing to me the other day.  She said, “I feel badly.  I went and looked up some resources on comforting people dealing with miscarriage and realized that I’ve already said three of the things you’re not supposed to say.”

I chuckled a little and said, “Really?  I hadn’t noticed.”  And it’s true.  I hadn’t.

Two opposite realities have emerged as I listen to people talk to me, trying to provide some comfort and consolation:

1) If they really love me (or you), they can’t say the wrong thing.  All the remarks that may not be perfect melt away when I see the true care they have for me in the Lord.  Some friends seem to have a window into your soul, while others struggle to understand, but either way, their love covers it all.

2) Everything everyone says feels, in some sense, like the wrong thing, because it feels like there is only one “right” thing and that would be to tell me that none of this happened and my little one is still alive and growing in my tummy.

So, on the one hand, no one can say the right thing, because no one can tell me it was all a bad dream.  And on the other hand anyone can say the right thing, if they’re motivated by genuine love.

I don’t want to negate the fact that some very insensitive things are said to people during their time of grief.  I’m not immune to this and I think it’s good to have some “don’t say” lists to de-hallmark-ize and de-trivialize the things people get in the habit of saying.

But, on the other hand, people get paralyzed when they’re made to feel that no one can or should speak into another’s loss.

All this to say that if it comes down to a choice between avoiding and saying nothing versus taking a risk and saying the less-than-perfect thing, I vote for the latter.

I’d rather have someone who really loves me step up and say something, than look at me uncomfortably from a distance and feel that avoidance is a must because they don’t want to say the wrong thing.  Even when I’m emotionally exhausted and want to be left alone, the person who speaks to me out of their love for the Lord and for me can never be faulted.

And who knows but that the Lord might use those words or the remembrance of their care at a later time to minister to my soul.

So my encouragement to you, dear reader, is to be the body of Christ to your grieving friends: be His arms around them and His soothing voice comforting them.  And if you’re the one hurting, let them do that for you, even if it isn’t how you would have scripted it.  That’s what I’m aiming for, very imperfectly, as I walk in this valley.

one purpose of suffering and calamity

By: Abigail Dodds
body of Christ, sorrow, , , 2 Comments on one purpose of suffering and calamity

I’ve been reading in Amos lately.

In chapter 4 verses 6-13 the writer recounts all the difficulties the Lord has sent to Israel in order to persuade them to return to the Lord.  But they don’t return.

Here’s a list of the calamities He sent them (minor in comparison with what was to come):

  • cleanness of teeth and lack of bread 
  • withheld the rain, no water
  • struck with blight and mildew and locusts
  • sent pestilence
  • killed young men with the sword
  • carried away horses
  • made the stench of the camp go up to their nostrils
  • overthrew some of them

And after each calamity it is reported, “‘yet you did not return to me,’ declares the Lord.”  

The ESV study bible notes these calamities as “patient appeals” by God that come before the largest calamity of all:

“Therefore I will do thus to you, O Israel;

because I will do this to you,

prepare to meet your God, O Israel!”

So what do the Israelites have to fear?  What is the huge calamity that the Lord was working to spare them from?  It is meeting God (which would come by way of the Assyrians obliterating them).  Meeting God is the greatest calamity in the world, for those who are in rebellion against Him.  And Israel was in rebellion.

I pray that this truth will give me some urgency in sharing the Gospel.

Not all calamities and sufferings are given for the specific cause of jerking us out of rebellion.  But I dare say that all calamities and suffering should have the effect of causing us to draw nearer to God.

So, I’m praying now, as things are good and blessings flow like water and honey in my life, that I’ll think now about how to respond when calamity comes.  That I’ll get a footing for the hard times that I may one day face.  

And that my footing will be in the Word and in Jesus Christ, the one Mediator between God and man, without whom, meeting my Maker would be more fearsome than any earthly calamity.