#7 - The Journey with Twins: Where the Rubber Hits the Road

*Originally posted on February 28, 2017 - Dates changed so the Journey with Twins posts could all be found in one spot together.

As we drove back to Cassie's house from the hospital the afternoon after we lost Aiden, my heart was in turmoil once again as I looked down at my still pregnant belly and empty arms.  I knew my mom and sister would want to greet us with hugs and love, but I knew that would also set me off again.  If we had no other children, I probably would have told Burke to keep driving all the way home.  I probably would have curled up in my bed until I was ready to face the world again.  As it was, we had to return and the news had to be broken.

One of the greatest blessings to me since being married has been our close proximity (within an hour for the past 7.5 years, except for our summer in Paris) to my sister Cassie.  She is a remarkable woman.  Selfless, creative, hard working, cheerful and kind - so very kind - just to name a few of her desirable qualities.  Since having children, I have been quite nervous about letting other people watch them and don't like to be apart from them.  However, when they are with Cassie, I don't worry for a millisecond!  She is an amazing mother, aunt and friend.  While we were in the hospital, she knew I would be worrying about my girls, so she sent me these texts to be a bright spot in the gloom.  And it was - knowing they were blissfully unaware of the loss of their highly anticipated brother was such a comfort to me.  

One helpful thing one of the social workers had said at the hospital that day was to prepare ourselves for the reaction of our children.  She said that children have a very hard time processing the finality of death and may say or do completely insensitive things without realizing how taboo they are being.  She advised that we use very direct language, even though it may seem heartless.  Words like "death" or "died" often seem so cold during these times, but children don't understand what we are implying when we say things like "gone" or "passed on".  On the drive, Burke and I discussed our game plan of how we should delicately and gently break it to Daphne and Darcie in a manner that would be both direct and sensitive.  But of course things never go according to plan.  

As soon as we pulled up, the kids happened to be playing outside and ran to us in excitement.  As our nieces and nephews and the kiddos swarmed around, Daphne exclaimed, "Where are the babies?!"  Rather than having a tender private moment with her, I panicked, not knowing what to say and tears started streaming down my face against my will.  Burke looked at me sympathetically like, "There goes the game plan!" and steered us all to a bench in front of the house while Cassie came out and hustled her kids back into the garage.  Sitting in extreme St. George heat (but not wanting to go inside and have an audience yet) he tried to explain that our little brother Aiden had died before we could safely get him out of mommy's tummy.  I still remember vividly her emotionless face as she sat there for a moment and said, "Oh."  She didn't seem to really be listening, but then her cousin Millie poked her head around the corner and Daphne ran over with a laugh saying, "One of the babies died!"  As soon as the words were out of her mouth she stopped as if the sound of her own words had frozen her mid run, turned around and slowly walked back to us.  As she reached the bench again, she burst into tears as she said, "Why did he have to die?"  

It was horrible trying to explain to her how his little heart just hadn't had the strength to keep beating anymore, how he had held on long enough to make sure Alan would be ok and how we would get to see Aiden again when we died because we were a forever family.  She didn't seem to understand and didn't stay around for much more of an explanation, simply saying "Oh" again and running off with her cousins.  Burke turned to me, a puddle of emotions and said, "Well, looks like the social worker was right about kids being insensitive."  I knew we would have better conversations with her later, so I didn't push it and let her go.

Darcie was taking a nap, so next it was on to the adults.  There was soft music playing when we walked in and Cassie and my Mom both embraced us, trying not too cry too much.  We glazed over what had happened, but didn't go into too much detail.  Burke's sister, Catherine, lives two doors down from Cassie (they are the two who set us up over 8 years ago) and Burke's wonderful mom, Marie, had come down to help her with the kids that day.  Soon Marie came over to the house giving me a hug as we discussed what had happened.  We all took turns weeping.  I so appreciated their kind, compassionate words, but with my continued headache and no real sleep for over 36 hours at this point, I was dead on my feet.  Cassie said not to worry about the kids and sent me downstairs to rest.  It was such a relief to go down to the dark, quiet basement by myself.  I curled up on my side (as comfortably as I could with my massive belly) and tried to get some rest, but my head was racing and waves of pain and tears kept me from falling asleep for a long time.

Through this all, Burke had been so strong.  His eyes would well up with tears, but he would fight them back and not let them fall.  Once I went downstairs, Burke later told me that he stepped onto the doorstep with his Mom and when the two of them were alone, it was as if all the strength he had been mustering up for me, the kids and everyone else was finally able to be relinquished.  He hugged his Mom as if he were a little kid and allowed himself a few tears.  As they talked, Marie confessed that she had spent much time that day trying to comfort Burke's sister Catherine (see post #6 - Cath was also pregnant and due within the next 2 weeks).  Cath was having a hard time accepting the news.  I'm sure the pregnancy hormones and the closeness of her delivery had a huge part to do with it, but she was very distraught.  She too had questions about why the original priesthood blessing said we would have the babies come whole and healthy, but Aiden had passed instead.  She struggled with the reality of the hundreds of prayers and fasts on our behalf without the desired miracle happening.  In complete selflessness, Burke went over to Catherine's house to give her comfort and share with her the peace we felt despite the immense sadness.  Cath later said she felt terrible to have her grieving brother come over and instead be comforting her, but I think in some ways it probably helped Burkie to share his thoughts and faith with his sister, solidifying his own.

After a short rest, Burke and I  gathered our girls and drove down to the St. George temple.  There we pulled out the blanket the hospital had given us on behalf of Aiden and talked to the girls about eternal families.  We bore testimony that although we were very sad we would not be able to have Aiden here on earth with us, we knew the power of temple sealings was real.  We told them that because we had chosen to be married in the temple, Burke and I were eternally linked as well as any children in our family which meant Aiden would be with us forever.  We explained how some spirits have a different mission and that his brief time in my belly was all the body he would need before he was able to begin his work in heaven.  I don't know how much they understood (Darcie wouldn't hold still and Daphne kept getting up to wander among the flowers), but it was comforting for Burke and I to be on the temple grounds, looking to the temple as a symbol for our faith, recognizing again that these things we had believed all our lives really were true.

When we returned to the Ridings, Cassie had prepared an amazing dinner and family home evening lesson.  After filling us up physically, she filled us spiritually.  She targeted the lesson towards the kids with a beautiful object lesson.  She put a picture of the Savior in the middle of the floor and had us all stand in a wide circle around it.  She said when we moved together towards Jesus Christ (she had each of us take a step towards the picture in the middle), we also become closer to one another.  In a moment of divine inspiration, Cassie drew an arrow, held it up and asked the kids where it was pointing.  They said to heaven and she said, "Yes, it is pointing to heaven, to Jesus Christ, to Heavenly Father and now to Aiden.  If we all try to aim to be more like Jesus and move closer to him, we will also be aiming for Aiden so we can be reunited with him forever."  That simple arrow image immediately magnetized to my heart and I knew for the rest of my life, whenever I would see an arrow, I would be reminded of my precious baby boy and motivated to keep the commandments so I could be with him again.

We had decided we would spend one more night in St. George and head home to Cedar the next afternoon, giving Daphne the opportunity to go to at least one day of kindergarten with her cousins and Burke and I time to go to the temple to ask the many questions churning in our hearts and minds.  My mom would stay on at the Ridings for a couple of days and join us later in the week.  I was anxious to be alone, but also very grateful for the help with the children so they could still play happily while Burke and I rested and processed.

Daphne was so glad we let her have at least one day at Kindergarten with her cousins Millie & Jade.

The next morning after Daphne had left for school and Darcie was upstairs playing with Elise, Burke and I sat down on a couch in Cassie's quiet basement when suddenly, our loss hit me again with torrential force and I began to weep with the same abandonment as I had at the hospital.  This was real.  My baby boy's tiny heart had stopped beating while his brother's beat on.  I was no longer going to be raising identical twins side by side.  I was still pregnant.  This horrible journey was not yet over.  How long did I have until his little body would begin to deteriorate within me?  Would I ever get to see Aiden's form and hold him in my arms?  How was this affecting Alan inside?

The questions and doubts that I had felt I had settled in the hospital began to churn around like a raging storm within me.  I felt like the walls were closing in on me and knew I needed to do something to regain footing or I would drown in this abyss of grief that threatened to envelope me completely.

I plead with Burke to pray for us, and he offered a heartfelt prayer while holding me tight in his arms, the tears soaking his shirt.  After he closed, he tenderly stroked my head, took a deep breath and said, "This is where the rubber hits the road Em.  Do we believe the gospel or don't we?"

I asked myself the question.  Did I believe?  Did I truly believe that my son's spirit lived on?  That his little life had a purpose though he had never drawn a breath?  That our temple covenants were real and eternally binding?  It didn't take me more than a moment before I responded confidently, "We do.  I do."

Burke simply nodded in agreement and held me until I was breathing calmly.  He then suggested that we turn to the scriptures and asked if I felt there was somewhere in particular that I would like to read.  I shook my head and suggested we pick up where we had left off the night before Aiden passed.  We had been reading in The Book of Mormon as a family, but as a couple we had been studying the New Testament and had just finished the book of James.  We turned next to 1 Peter, the very first chapter and had hardly begun when God answered us.

To my dying day this moment will stand out in my mind and heart as the most powerful witness I have yet experienced that God truly speaks to us NOW, today, right to the heart of our individual suffering and challenges through the words of his holy prophets.  He answered our prayer moments after we plead for peace and understanding in a way that, sixth months later as I sit typing this in our peaceful home with my babies fast asleep, still pierces my heart with it's truth and power.

As a background reference to the significance of what we read, on Sunday night as we drove down to St. George in preparation for the planned c-section Monday morning to save the babies, we finally decided on names for our sons.  Up until that moment, I had been pushing for Alan for Baby B and Ethan for Baby A, but Burke never could get over the fact that the two names together would remind everyone of Ethan Allen - the furniture store!  I had prayed that Sunday afternoon that we might be led to the right name and as I was perusing the "A" boy names, I came across Aiden (which is a name I have always liked the sound of) and when I clicked on the definition and read that it meant "Little Fire" I grinned from ear to ear.  Our little fighter, who had made it so long, amazing all our doctors was definitely a fireball!  His spirit, strength and perseverance burned bright within me.  And our Alan, which I already knew meant "Little Rock" was the perfect compliment to his brother, steady, consistent and full of fortitude.  Aiden Burke (middle name for his Daddy) and Alan David (for both his Daddy Alan Burke and his Grandpas, Alan Adams and David Bush).  The perfect names. Burke was so pleased when I asked him what he thought and we were all delighted with the choice.

Now, a day and a half later, Aiden's name choice jumped out at us with such power and the spirit burned within both of us, bringing me to tears of gratitude as we read 1 Peter 1:6-9 - words written thousands of years ago, yet undoubtedly just for us.

Verse 6 spoke directly to our heaviness of heart, but mercifully reminded us that it would only be for a season.  I especially like how it says "if need be" as if granting permission to grieve, not as a sign of weakness or doubt, but simply as a result of this mortal experience.

Verse 7 assured us that this trial of our faith, tried "with fire" (our "Little Fire", Aiden) would end up being an experience that would be "more precious than gold" as it would ultimately bring honor and glory to Jesus Christ.

And although I know Verse 8 refers directly to Jesus, as we read these words, we felt as though it was referring to our baby boy, our Aiden, "whom having not seen, ye love."  Words were never penned with more truth and power.  They pierced my very soul.

And as Verse 8 and 9 affirmed, though we could not see our baby, we rejoiced in the truths found in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, that families are forever, that through faith on Christ, we can receive joy even in the midst of suffering and obtain the salvation of our souls.

Since that moment, every wisp of doubt or fleeting dark thought has been eclipsed by the powerful assurances we received in the hospital and in this sacred moment of personal revelation.

Shortly after our wonderful, peace-bringing scripture study, Burke went to the St. George temple to do an endowment session and seek further comfort in the House of the Lord.  My body no longer had the stamina to endure a 2+ hour session, but I also longed for further peace in the temple and after a shower and some comforting conversation with my mother and sister, I too drove to the temple to do an initiatory session, trying to time it so Burke and I could finish at the same time. Unfortunately, there was an hour and a half wait to get into initiatory, so I simply sat in the lobby, reading the scriptures while I waited for Burkie to come out.  When he did, his face lit up as he saw me sitting there and he came over and hugged me tightly, then sat down and told me about yet another faith promoting experience he had just gone through.

He said during the entire session, he was praying that Heavenly Father might grant him the opportunity to feel the presence of Aiden, to know where his spirit now dwelt and what his purpose would now be if he wasn't able to come to earth with our family.  He kept feeling that this moment would come after the conclusion of the session in the Celestial Room.  In the St. George temple, there is a gorgeous sealing room right off the Celestial Room with a beautiful double staircase leading to the room.  Inside there are the traditional two walls of mirrors facing one another, so that when you look at your reflection, the mirror across from you reflects the mirror behind you and echos of this image are repeated on an on behind and in front of you symbolizing the eternal nature of our souls, temple marriage and families.

Burke climbed the stairs to the sealing room nervously, wondering if, as he looked into the mirror, Aiden would be there looking back at him.  As he stood in front of the mirrors, he took a deep breath and looked up, right into Aiden's eyes...although, in reality, they were just his own.  Yet, he felt as though the spirit whispered to him, "That is your son.  He looks like you.  He is well."  For the first time during the long months of our stressful pregnancy and in the devastating wake of losing our son, Burke said he sat down in the empty room and wept freely.  Although not the miraculous visitation he was perhaps hoping for, he felt that it was enough and another layer of peace settled softly on his soul.

When he had spent a long while with his head bowed, praying and pondering, Burke dried his eyes and looked up to find a young hispanic woman on the other end of the room, also deep in prayerful meditation.  The thought came to him, "you need to speak with her" and he instantly resisted it.  He didn't want to be strange or interrupt her pondering, but the thought came again and this time he responded.  He crossed the room slowly and when he was right next to her he began to say softly, "I'm sorry to bother you..." when she looked up at him with huge startled eyes, her mouth opening in a shocked, "o" as she stared at him silently.  He continued, "I felt like I should come talk to you.  I'm not sure if you need to know this, but my son just died yesterday, but I wanted you to know that, it's okay, everything is going to be alright."  The young woman clutched at her heart and vigorously patted the seat next to her.  With a hint of an accent she said, "I thought you were an angel!"  Burke laughed as he joined her and said they had a wonderful conversation.  When he went to leave, she told him, "I needed to hear that.  You answered my prayers.  Maybe you are  my angel!"

As Burke was telling me this, he had a smile on his face and said, "I kept thinking, if someone had a prompting to talk to me, I would hope that they would do it.  I was thinking someone else would be the answer to my prayers today, but I am glad I could be the answer to her prayer instead."

We left the temple hand in hand and went to eat at 25 Main.  Less than 24 hours after we had left the hospital we were talking, smiling, even laughing a little as we enjoyed the time together.  Of course the sadness was still prevalent, but not overwhelming.

We went back to Cassie's, collected the girls and poured out our thanks to the Ridings and my mom for all they had done for us and had planned on doing for us before the plans had changed.  I don't know if I will ever be able to adequately express how much of a load they lifted off our shoulders during that difficult time.  We drove back to Cedar City, back to a nursery which would now only welcome one son home, and began the arduous task of living with our grief of losing Aiden and waiting for Alan's birthday to arrive.

Read the next installment in The Journey with Twins: The Aftermath