We enter the sterile room, equipped with an examination table, covered in stark white sheets. We gaze at the monitor, mounted overhead.
This is it. This is where we will meet our baby face-to-face.
I unveil my swelling tummy and lie back, as the sonographer presses her instrument, covered in a warm gel, against my abdomen. Alas, there she is! We see her tiny hands and feet and watch her as she moves inside of me. I’ve been able to feel her move for a couple of weeks now, but to see her move makes it so much more real. On this day, in that ultrasound room, I met Chloe face-to-face, though, I fell in love with her long before. She made me a Mommy with Hope.
I could never have known just how much she would change me.
I could never have known the impact she would have or what her legacy would be.
I could never have known how her life would turn hearts to her Creator, much less that her own daddy would be first in line.
I could never have known just how brief her precious life would be.
You see, it was that day, the day we met her face-to-face, when we also learned she would be leaving this world far too soon. She made me a Mommy with Hope.
In a matter of days we found out the extent of her problems. Her abnormalities made it clear that she would not survive. Abnormality. Malformation. Anomaly. I detested these words. It scared me to think that any one of them could accurately describe my little girl. She was growing inside of me, she was a part of me, and I loved her more than words could describe. Yet, we found ourselves in the medical world, pregnant with a “fetus,” diagnosed with an “interstitial deletion of chromosome 2” and accompanying brain condition, “holoprosencephaly.” To me, she was a baby. My baby. My precious Chloe Marie, whose name means “blooming; wished for child.”
Faced with a difficult and heartbreaking choice that no woman should ever have to make, we willed to continue our pregnancy until my body went into labor or until the Lord decided to call her home. Twelve weeks later, Chloe arrived in a quaint hospital room where her daddy and I cuddled her for all forty-five minutes of her brief life on earth. As we held her in our arms, she was ushered into heaven to the sound of these verses put to music:
“How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty. My soul doth long and even faints for you…Better is one day in your courts, better is one day in your house. Better is one day in your courts than thousands elsewhere.” (Psalm 84:1,10)
These words, in song, played in our hospital room at the moment the nurse pronounced her death. While I cradled her fragile little body in that room, Jesus cradled her spirit in heaven. She made me a Mommy with Hope.
Because of Chloe, I am a Mommy with Hope. Those months, weeks, days, and minutes, renewed my hope in Christ. The God who had never let me go, embraced me then, as He does now. Healing and hope found in Christ alone shine through a ministry born out of the death of a baby. Many mommies have hope. The parallels astound me. She made me a Mommy with Hope, pointing me back to my Savior. Yet God gave us all an eternal hope through another precious little baby, like no other. His name is Jesus.
by Teske Drake, a Mommy with Hope