By Dorine Otinga- Nairobi, Kenya
The day Nathaniel Senior left this world, a piece of my heart shattered irreparably. I vividly remember it was 7/7/2021. This date is my father’s birthday as well.
It’s been three years, but the pain still feels as fresh as if it happened yesterday. Losing a child is an agony that seeps into every corner of your being, leaving you hollow and broken. I never imagined such a loss, but life had other plans.
Many are the days I wanted to share this story with the world. But every moment I think about jotting something down, I get scared. Scared of crying forever due to grief.
Today, allow me to pen this down and share the faithfulness of Christ in my life.
A New Journey into Marriage
My journey with Nathaniel’s father, Elishamah began on a bright September 2020. We exchanged vows filled with promises of love and devotion, blissfully unaware of the trials that awaited us.
We loved each other dearly and looked forward to starting a family together. We chose to put Christ as the foundation of our marriage. Every morning and evening we knelt and prayed together. We knew that this was our only hope. We still do it to date. Sometimes, we fast as a family.
Three months later, the news of my pregnancy filled our home with joy and anticipation. We dreamed of cradling our little bundle of joy, counting down the days until our lives would change forever.
My husband held my tummy every day and prayed for our baby. I believed it would be a boy and my instincts were right. I enjoyed his little kicks every day. He must have been a playful and cheerful baby.
A Sad Reality Hits My Home
After nine months, I was ready to hold the first fruit of my womb. I waited for the labor pain and one morning it came. I woke up at 4 a.m. with a sharp pain in my back. I remember I was so tired the previous day.
Before we went to sleep, my husband had asked me whether the baby kicked that day. As I was trying to remember, he held my tummy. Yaay! He kicked so hard that my husband could feel it. We slept and that’s how I woke up the next morning with pain.
When we reached the hospital, the doctor examined me before the admission. She looked worried as she hurriedly tried to look for the baby’s heartbeat. My husband was a medic too and was worried.
“When did you feel his kicks?” She asked.
“Yesterday before going to bed”. I replied.
“Please do an ultrasound.” She said.
We went to the ultrasound room. I looked at my husband but he kept staring on the floor.
“What is the doctor trying to say? Do you mean we could have lost the baby? I need to understand.” I said.
By that time, I was quite confused.
“Let’s wait for the ultra sound sweetheart.” He said.
It was clear he didn’t want to talk. I knew something was wrong and asked God to give me strength and take control.
Confirmed!
I didn’t know fate had a cruel twist for us. Our world came crashing down. The hospital corridors echoed with the sound of our shattered hopes as the doctor delivered the devastating news after the ultrasound. There was no heartbeat. Nathaniel Senior had left us before he even had a chance to enter this world.
In that moment, time stood still. The pain was suffocating, threatening to engulf me. But amidst the darkness, a flicker of hope emerged. Clinging to the fragments of my shattered faith, I whispered to God, begging for the strength to endure the unbearable.
As I lay in the hospital bed, grappling with the enormity of our loss, I found solace in the quiet moments of prayer. Through tear-stained eyes, I poured out my heart, seeking comfort in embracing a higher power.
In the depths of my despair, I held onto the belief that even amid tragedy, God remained steadfast.
The Painful Labour and Agony
The doctor in charge told me that I would have to undergo a normal delivery. I didn’t want that. I feared the pain. I wanted a quick surgery and go home to mourn in peace. All the nurses and hospital staff insisted that I should endure the pain of a normal delivery. This was to help me heal faster and maybe get another baby sooner.
The Inner Voice
Despite the pain and grief, I felt an inner voice assuring me that all would be well. I kept praising God for who He is. I told God that He was still the God who was good during the good times.
I still felt he hadn’t forsaken me. No. Not even for a minute. I loved my God so much. I asked him to save my life and give me strength. After 15 hours of labor, I finally delivered my sleeping baby boy.
Go Well Baby
I felt so emotional when I made the final push. Three nurses assisted me. They looked at me with a lot of compassion. I saw one of them cover my baby. We had vowed with my husband that we would not look at him. Yes. We didn’t want to see a cute baby that we would not carry home.
I requested the nurses to cover him well and not to show him to me. They said he was cute and begged me to look at him. I was adamant. I looked at where he was lying and asked him, “What happened to you baby? I am sorry”.
My baby was buried the same day with the help of my Bishop, my family, and a few church members. I am grateful for this. I was too weak to attend the session so I remained in the hospital and preferred that.
Dark Days Ahead
The days that followed were a blur of grief and anguish. Each moment felt like an eternity as I navigated the treacherous path of healing. I dreaded my bedroom so much. It was the place that reminded me of him most.
I took all his clothes and little basin and hid them very far. I didn’t unpack anything. I would use them when the next baby came. Of course, I had faith that Nathaniel would come back.
My Healing Journey
Gradually, amidst the pain, something miraculous began to happen. I discovered a resilience within myself that I never knew existed. A strength born out of the depths of despair.
With each passing day, I found the courage to face the pain head-on, allowing myself to feel every raw emotion that threatened to consume me. And in doing so, I began to find glimpses of peace amidst the storm. The Holy Spirit guided me, urging me to find joy amid sorrow.
I also found solace in speaking to other bereaved women. I told them how I felt and what hurt most.
My Family Was There For Me!
My mum was my pillar of strength. She called me daily and told me she prayed for me. I cannot forget my husband. He endured so much. He kept a brave eye on me, though I knew he was hurting within. He took me out and did all he could to make me feel better. Sometimes, when pain overwhelmed me, I would ask him what to do. Indeed, he was there for me.
Slowly but surely, the darkness began to lift, replaced by a glimmer of hope illuminating the path ahead. Though the loss would never fully fade, I knew I was not alone in my journey.
For in the depths of my grief, I had found a companion in Christ. He was a source of strength and solace that transcended earthly pain.
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3).
Three years have passed since Nathaniel Senior left this world, but his memory lives on in the depths of my heart. And though the pain of his absence will always linger, I am reminded that even in the darkest of nights, there is always a flicker of light waiting to lead us home.
My Baby is Back!
I got pregnant again and I held my hope high. It might be another story worth sharing. But trust me, I have a bouncing baby boy. His name is Zenas Nathanael. Nathaniel means God has given. Zenas means the gift of Zeus. He is almost two years old now. So cute and cheerful.
God wiped away my tears. This boy is just lovely and lively. He loves people and is also outgoing like his father. His laughter makes me smile, and he loves hugging me when he feels I am upset.
One day, I will tell him this story. I will teach Him to trust in the Lord. Nothing is impossible before God. Every time he calls me mum, I am reminded that mourning may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.
To everyone grieving, just hold on and know you haven’t lost everything. God is with you even in the darkest hour. He will help you overcome that pain!
