by Cheryl Faye
He gently embraced her from one side as her mother stood and caressed her from her left.
“Why, Stefàn? Why would God take him from us? Why would He do that?”
Stefàn, possessing nary a comforting word to offer, struggled to quell the anger that threatened to boil over just at the mere thought of God.
Her mother felt helpless as she watched her youngest child grieve the loss of her firstborn. She didn’t know how to comfort her because this was something she had never experienced. As a mother, one could often count on one’s own experiences to help a daughter when she is gifted with the blessing of motherhood, but here Barbara had nothing to draw from. She looked to her husband who had always been able to read her, and he immediately moved to embrace and comfort both his wife and child.
“Where’s Stefàni?” Charisse asked through her tears.
“She’s in the nursery,” Stefàn answered.
“I want her. I want my baby,” she adamantly demanded.
“I’ll get her,” Barbara immediately replied and turned to leave the room.
If she couldn’t do anything else for her daughter, she reasoned, she could at least do this.
“Did you see him?” Charisse asked her husband.
He slowly nodded as a tear spilled over his lid and slid down his cheek.
“I want to see him,” she lamented.
“No, baby, you don’t.”
“I want to hold him,” she argued.
Remembering the coldness of his skin as he held his son, Stefàn knew that if Charisse felt him like that, her pain would only be magnified, and he had to protect her in any way he could. “Honey, you don’t want to feel him like that.”
At that moment, Stefàn unwittingly sent up a silent thank you when he saw his mother-in-law enter the room, holding their daughter. “Here’s Stefàni, baby.”
Barbara moved next to her daughter and handed the newborn over. “The nurse said she’s hungry.” Producing a bottle from the pocket of her jacket, she removed the covering from the nipple before handing it to Charisse.
Studying her precious daughter closely, watching every movement and facial expression as if she might never see her again, Charisse’s vision began to blur as she thought about her other child; the one she’d never hold, the one she would never get to feed, change or whisper to. Pulling her closer to her breast, she cradled Stefàni against her heart, yearning to feel a wisp of what she may have felt in the nine months she’d shared with her brother in the womb. Longing to feel that closeness they’d experienced despite their separate nests of development, she wondered, too, if Stefàni could sense that he was no longer with her. He would have been her older brother and Charisse was certain he would have always looked out for his younger twin sister, had he been given the opportunity.
“I miss him, even though I never got to hold him,” Charisse lamented.
Sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, Stefàn gently brushed her hair back. “I know, sweetie.” Touching his chest, he continued, “I have an ache right here for him.”
Stefàni began to whimper, so Charisse put the bottle to her mouth. She couldn’t help but marvel at the way the infant lunged for the nipple, instinctively knowing that there was life-sustaining nourishment for her there.
Taking her eyes off of Stefàni for just a moment, she asked Stefàn, “Does Jared know?”
“Not yet. I asked Julian to pick him up from school, but I told him not to even tell him that you’d given birth. I don’t know how I’m going to tell him.”
“God will give you the words, son,” John said softly.
Stefàn looked over at his father-in-law and coldly stated, “I don’t want anything from God. He’s given me enough already, don’t you think?”
John didn’t comment, but was sympathetic to Stefàn’s anger. He had never walked in this young man’s shoes so he couldn’t discount what he was feeling as unreasonable.
Charisse, however, was saddened by Stefàn’s outburst. She wanted to be angry with God for taking their son, too, but gazing down at their beautiful little girl made her anger and even her hurt, wane ever so slightly. For so long they had held little hope that they’d ever have a child of their own, and while for four months they’d believed they would be blessed with two, they still had the perfect little girl God had so graciously given to them. Did she want her son? Absolutely. Did she mourn the life of the child she’d carried to term but never had an opportunity to hold or even gaze upon? Without a doubt. But Charisse could not so easily lambaste God for taking their little boy. She couldn’t help but consider that maybe God had spared them a greater agony by taking him now. Was there a health issue he might have been subjected to that could have made it difficult not only for Jonathan, but also for them to cope with? They would never know. All she knew was the soft, warm feel of her daughter in her arms. All she could cling to was the love she already felt for this little one and the joy she had already become in her life. Charisse would always wonder why she was not given the opportunity to cradle her son against her bosom the way she did Stefàni, but she knew that God’s embrace was even more comforting than hers could ever be.
She didn’t say anything to her parents, or even to Stefàn, but she knew when they were alone, she would have to help him understand that they could not give up on God. She had to make him recognize that God’s sovereignty was unquestionable.
JARED WAS ASLEEP BY THE TIME STEFÀN LEFT THE HOSPITAL and finally made it to Julian and Michele’s house. His friends were cautious about saying too much, but made it clear that they were just a phone call away if he or Charisse needed anything.
When Stefàn called him earlier and told him the awful news, Julian was immediately reminded of his and Michele’s first pregnancy. Unlike Charisse, Michele hadn’t carried their child to full term. She had miscarried at five months, but it was a devastating blow for them regardless.
Stefàn didn’t want to wake Jared so he merely carried him to the truck and laid him across the back seat. He drove them home in silence, opting not to turn on the car stereo because he was still trying to think of how to break the news to him.
When they arrived home, Stefàn pulled the SUV into the garage and shut the car off. Sitting motionless behind the wheel for a few minutes and wanting to pray to God for the words to explain what had happened, his wrath toward Him was unyielding.
“Daddy?” Jared sleepily called from behind him.
Stefàn turned in the seat and forced a smile. “Hey, buddy.”
“Where are we?”
“Home.” He pulled the key from the ignition and pushed his door opened. Stepping out of the vehicle, he immediately opened the back door and reached for his son. “Come on, guy. Let’s get you to bed.”
Normally considering himself too old to be carried, Jared was so tired and sleepy at that moment that he didn’t even fuss. In the same sleep-laden voice he asked, “Where’s Mommy?”
“She’s at the hospital.”
Stefàn was carrying him through the door into the kitchen when Jared inquired, “Did she have the babies?”
“Yes.”
The affirmative answer sparked a bit of excitement in him and brought him fully awake. “Did she have a boy and a girl like she said?”
Stefàn stood Jared in front of him and flipped on the ceiling light before he answered, “Yes, Jared, but there was a problem.”
“What kind of problem? Is Mommy okay?” he asked with a worried expression.
Stefàn reached out and ran his hand across Jared’s soft curls. “Come over here and sit down with me, son.” He guided Jared to the breakfast nook where they ate every morning.
Jared was quite astute for one so young and immediately sensed that his father was about to give him some bad news. “Daddy, what happened to Mommy? Is she okay?” he repeated.
“Mommy’s fine, son.” Stefàn sighed deeply. “The doctor was worried when we went for Mommy’s check-up because she noticed that one of the heartbeats had
slowed down, so they had to operate to get the babies out. Little Jonathan was strangled by the umbilical cord. That’s what connects him to Mommy and that’s how babies are fed and nourished while they’re in their mother’s tummy. They tried to save him but…he.…” Stefàn faltered and tears came to his eyes.
“He died, Daddy?”
Stefàn couldn’t speak, but he nodded affirmatively.
Jared lowered his head and sat silently beside his father. After several minutes, he timidly asked, “Is baby Stefàni alright?”
Reaching for a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table, Stefàn wiped his eyes and blew his nose before he answered. “Yes. She’s fine.” He tried to smile when he told Jared, “She’s a beautiful little girl, too.”
Jared noticed that his father was having a difficult time trying not to break down in front of him so he reached up and put his arms around Stefàn’s neck. “I’m sorry, Daddy, that baby Jonathan died, but he’ll be okay. My first Mom and Grandma and Granny Nan will take care of him in heaven. He’s gonna be an angel just like them.”
Against this innocent child’s unflinching assurance, Stefàn had no defense. He fell against Jared’s shoulder and let his oldest son’s embrace be the comforter he so desperately needed.
Nearly five minutes later when his tears had finally ceased, Stefàn straightened himself on the bench of the nook and told his son, “I’m sorry, Jared.” He pulled another napkin from the holder and again wiped his face and blew his nose.
Jared, continuing in a demeanor of wisdom well beyond his nine years, reached up and touched Stefàn’s shoulder as he said, “You don’t have to be sorry, Daddy. Remember you told me that it’s okay for boys to cry when they’re hurt? And even though you didn’t hurt yourself on the outside, I think probably when your insides hurt, it’s even worse, right?”
Stefàn looked into the face of the child seated next to him. Marveling at how appropriate his words were for the situation, a sad smile appeared as he pulled Jared into his arms.
Enclosing his son in a hug that he hoped expressed his gratitude, pride and love, Stefàn, nevertheless, wanted to be sure he knew. “I love you so much, Jared, and I’m so proud of you. I was so angry with God for taking Jonathan from me that I forgot to remember everything He’s given me. I am so glad you’re my son. You are a blessing that could never be replaced. He gave me a beautiful little girl in Stefàni. Wait ’til you see your little sister. You’re going to love her right away. I have so much to be thankful for. Thank you, Jared, for reminding me of that.”
“You’re welcome, Daddy. Can I go see Stefàni and Mommy tomorrow?”
“Absolutely. Mommy’s going to be glad to see you, too, but right now, we both need to go to bed. I’m exhausted.”
They rose from the nook and started out of the kitchen and toward their bedrooms upstairs.
With his foot on the first step, Jared asked, “Daddy, can I sleep in your room tonight?”
“Sure, buddy. Put on your pajamas and come on in.”
Jared rushed to the task, hurrying up the stairs ahead of Stefàn. It wasn’t often that he got to sleep in the king-sized bed his parents shared, but was excited whenever he could.
It was only a few minutes later when he came barreling into the room. Stefàn was seated on the edge of the bed in his pajama pants.
“You get Mommy’s whole side tonight, J,” Stefàn told him. “Climb on up.”
“Aren’t we gonna say our prayers first?”
Ironically, Stefàn hadn’t even thought of that, even though he and Charisse had continued the practice Jared’s grandmother taught him by praying with him every night before he went to sleep.
“Yeah. I forgot,” he embarrassedly stated.
“Want me to do it?” Jared eagerly offered.
“No, son, this is something I have to do.”
The father and child knelt next to one another beside the bed. Jared lowered his head in anticipation of his father’s prayer, but it was not so readily forthcoming. Stefàn pondered what he would say for well over a minute before he began.
“Heavenly Father, this has been the hardest day of my life.” Stefàn paused right there because he felt his hurt and pain begin to well up in his spirit and he wanted to be strong for his son beside him. But the memory of the day’s events overwhelmed him when he recalled the image of his dead infant son lying on the cold examination table once the doctors had given up any chance of reviving him. He couldn’t contain his emotions. With a sadness he had never known or hoped to experience again, he tearfully continued, “I’m sorry, God, for being so angry with You. I forgot to remember that even though You took Jonathan, You’ve given me so much. You blessed me with an amazing son when You gave me Jared. You trusted me to bring him up right, to be the man we both know he can and will be. You blessed me with Charisse. When my heart was closed and afraid to love, You sent her to me, knowing that she was everything I needed to help me draw closer to You. You proved the doctors wrong. Risi always believed that You would bless us with a child, but I took them at their word, even though I knew in my heart there’s nothing too hard for You to do. I’m sorry,” he cried. “You gave me the most beautiful daughter, Stefàni. She is perfect, God. More than I could have ever hoped for. And I almost forgot because I kept looking at what I’d lost. But I know now, God. I know for certain that Jonathan is with You. That You love him more than I ever could and that he was Yours before he was ever mine. Forgive me, please. I love you, Father. Please continue to watch over my family, to protect them and strengthen them. This has been the hardest day of my life, Lord, but it’s also been the best day. You showed me that You love me in spite of my faults. Help me to be everything my family needs, through the hard times and through the good times, God. Help me to be the best father my children could ever have. I promise to always look to You first for guidance and strength in raising them. Help me to be the husband Charisse deserves, God. She is such a precious gift and I will love her and thank You for her until I take my last breath. Thank You, God, for being God. Thank You for Your unfailing grace and Your goodness. In the Name above every name—Jesus. Amen.”
DAMARIS COOPER WAS AT THE HOSPITAL at nine a.m. Saturday morning, before visiting hours officially began. When she told the security guard that her daughter was a patient, she was given access to the maternity ward without question.
She struggled to control her displeasure at Stefàn’s insistence yesterday that she wait a day before coming. If for no other reason, she wanted to be there for Charisse. Having lost a child just hours after its birth, she felt she was able to identify with what Charisse must have been feeling.
When she entered Charisse’s room that morning, she was delighted to find her new granddaughter asleep on her daughter-in-law’s chest. She wasn’t sure if Charisse was sleeping as well, or if she merely had her eyes closed, but Damaris was glad to see she was in better shape than she expected.
“Risi,” she softly called as she moved closer to the head of the bed.
Charisse opened her eyes upon hearing her nickname and smiled upon seeing Damaris there. She reached up to take her hand.
Damaris kissed her gently on her forehead and tenderly asked, “How are you, honey?”
Charisse just shrugged as her eyes immediately began to water. Damaris understood.
Taking a closer look at little Stefàni, she murmured, “She’s adorable.”
“Thank you.”
Damaris sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the tear that began to slide down Charisse’s cheek. “I’m so sorry about Jonathan. I know how hard it is to lose your baby like that. It happened to me before Stefàn was born.”
Charisse was surprised and although she didn’t say anything, it showed on her face.
Damaris continued, “Stefàn doesn’t know. None of the kids do. Mike and I never told them. He was our first-born. His name was Michael, after his father. He was born with a birth defect called anencephaly. They told me right after I delivered that h
e probably wouldn’t live out the day. He died about five hours after he was born.”
“Did you get to hold him?”
“Yes. He died in my arms. I thought I would die right along with him,” Damaris admitted.
“I didn’t get to hold Jonathan. I wanted to but they gave me an anesthetic after Stefàni was born and it wasn’t until several hours later that I came to. I thought I’d had a bad dream,” she shakily told her mother-in-law.
Damaris nodded her understanding.
“I’m worried about Stefàn. He’s so angry with God. I think he hates Him because He took Jonathan,” Charisse stated sadly.
“I could hear it when I spoke to him yesterday.”
“I can understand his anger, but I can’t overlook what He gave us with Stefàni.” With those words, Charisse adjusted her daughter so she could gaze down at her angelic countenance.
“He won’t hold on to it. That little girl is going to melt his heart, I just know it,” Damaris said with a smile.
“Would you like to hold her?” Charisse offered.
“Oh, please, could I?”
Taking the child in her arms, Damaris cooed and sang to her newest grandchild. “She looks like Stefàn did when he was born. He had a head full of curly hair like this and those thick lashes. She’s so beautiful.”
“Where’s Mike?” Charisse asked.
“He had to take his car in to the shop. I didn’t have the patience to wait for him so I drove myself. He’s going to meet me here. Has Stefàn told Jared yet?”
“He was going to tell him last night. I haven’t tried calling him this morning so I don’t know how he took it.”
As if the very mention of Stefàn and Jared was enough to conjure them up, the two of them strolled into the room in the next seconds.
“Mommy!”
“Hi!”
Jared rushed to her side and stretched over the bed rail to hug her. Charisse was so happy to see him and returned his embrace with as much effort as she could muster. Looking to Stefàn, and seeing a peace that wasn’t there the day before, she smiled lovingly at him. Before she could say anything, though, Jared called out, “Hi, Granma Dee. Is that Stefàni?”