Thirty-five years ago, on April 1st, Good Friday 1988, our son Paul died in the 9th month of pregnancy. He was our premier teacher who continues to teach us many things, including the Micah 6:8 passage we’ve focused on for Lent “act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly.” This little person has broadened our life ethic and helps us make room for those who suffer.
The first time we saw him was through ultrasound at eight weeks old. We thought we were miscarrying. Our doctor knew something was wrong with the pregnancy from that tiny picture. A few weeks later, the ultrasound revealed that his head, limbs, and torso were all at different levels of development.
While it was already clear that he had several challenges, it was also clear our love began to grow, our bond deepened, and we named our little one Paul. We saw Paul on-screen during our amniocentesis in month five of our pregnancy. He was moving away from the long needle that was drawing up the amniotic fluid (that’s when we knew he was a genius because his dad had the same reaction to that needle!)
The amniocentesis revealed that Paul had a syndrome incompatible with life called Triploidy. Our view of life was now broadening.
Over the next four months, we saw him through regular ultrasounds. We heard his beautiful heart in all four chambers through an echocardiography, and we experienced his physical skills through the last trimester’s weekly stress tests.
We defended his life and dignity while the Perinatologist strongly encouraged us to abort Paul through the 9th month. This dear doctor would advise us not to bond with our baby in every appointment. When reporting test results, he called our child “cells and tissue,” we would reply, “do you mean Paul?” We believe he was trying to protect us. We wanted to love vulnerably.
The last six months of the pregnancy were devoted to prayers and fasting for Paul’s healing here on earth and not in heaven. There were countless sleepless nights. We cried out to God, earnestly expected a miracle, and prepared to bring him home with us. We shared pictures with his big sister and brother of children with the same congenital disabilities so they wouldn’t fear his appearance. They couldn’t wait to bring their little brother home.
On March 31st, I (Clare) felt him flip in my womb for the last time. On April 1st, Good Friday, at full term, he was born still. Our hello was also our goodbye.
Even though his spirit had already left his body, he was held, cherished, prayed for, and wept over. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, and his big sister, Sara, came to the hospital to say goodbye to our beloved Paul. Our view of life and resurrection was broadening. Our relationship with God and each other was deepening.
At Paul’s memorial service, We watched Ian and Sara search our faces for answers to their question, “what is the meaning of this?” Of course, we couldn’t answer “what is the meaning of this,” but we have found moment by moment what my dad meant as he eulogized our Paul, “there is great meaning in this.”
When our son Josiah was born a year later, on April 14th, he joined the broader view, the connecting of the dots. But that will be a story for another day.
Our whole family carries Paul’s heart in our hearts as we sit with others who question the meaning of life. We take his hand in ours when we hold the hands of the vulnerable, disinherited, terrorized, and marginalized. We listen to stories of those on the right and left of our life ethic and find empathy and compassion. When we “act justly, love mercy and walk humbly.” we die to our quick judgments and personal paradigms. We are humbled, listen, weep, and search for resurrection together.
On this Good Friday, will you join us in dying to all that is not aligned with justice, mercy, and humility so that we may experience the resurrection of Christ in us for the sake of the world Jesus died for?
This is our prayer. Amen.