Charis Yiu
Charis (χαρις): (a) grace, as a gift of blessing brought to man by Jesus Christ, (b) favour, (c) gratitude, thanks, (d) a favour, kindness.
32cm, 5lbs2oz
Born sleeping
May 28, 2015
12:46pm
Now with her army of angels
I will carry you
forever in my heart
There were photographs I wanted to take
Things I wanted to show you
Sing sweet lullabies, wipe your teary eyes
Who could love you like this?
People say that I am brave but I'm not
People say that I am brave but I'm not
Truth is I'm barely hanging on
But there's a greater story
Written long before me
Because He loves you like this
So I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All my life
And I will praise the One Who's chosen me
To carry you
Such a short time
Such a long road
All this madness
But I know
That the silence
Has brought me to His voice
And He says?
I've shown her photographs of time beginning
Walked her through the parted seas
Angel lullabies, no more teary eyes
Who could love her like this?
I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All your life
And I will praise the One Who's chosen Me
To carry you
On Wednesday, May 27th, I was induced with Misoprostol starting 11am. It took a few hours before contractions started. I continued to have contractions every 2 minutes but no dilation, and eventually I had an IV, epidural and a urinary catheter inserted. It took 24 hours for my cervix to fully dilate. The Misoprostol makes induced labour different from a natural labour. While my uterus was firing away (one every 1.5 minutes, each longer than a minute) between 1am and 9am, my epidural could no longer keep up - I had a continuous epidural infusion, with breakthrough (extra doses) every hour, then anesthesia injected more narcotics. I had no movement below my waist, freezing from upper abdomen to my chest, but no freezing in my lower abdomen. My uterus was too stimulated, putting me at risk for uterine rupture... I was suddenly fully dilated, but my water didn't break and Charis bum didn't descend.
The next on-call OB Dr. K performed an ultrasound, discovering how the combination of Charis' head (12 cm), cystic hygroma behind the neck and head, and neck position, would make it incredibly challenging to delivery Charis vaginally - her head will most likely be stuck and worst scenario if we waited for the water to break was that we switch to c-section midway a vaginal delivery. This was my fear this past whole month and I knew c-section was what we needed. Very quickly they brought me to the operating room. My parents arrived in time to hear the plan, eyes full of tears, not knowing if God will also take me home as well. By this point our prayer warriors all gathered in the waiting room. Those who had work called in sick, worked remotely, or somehow received a day off because their supervisors were absent. The anaesthetist pulled out my epidural, gave me a spinal injection of medication, then inserted a new epidural. I wanted to hold her right after birth and have DY beside me. Unfortunately, they couldn't get a good block on my lower abdomen, and I had to have a c-section performed under general anaesthesia. I missed Charis in the first hour and was very groggy for the next couple of hours.
When Charis was born, she was very swollen, and really could not have fit through the birth canal. She lost all of her skin from all the swelling except for her head. She had a skull defect (encephalocele) and a huge lump (cystic hygroma) on the back of her head and neck. Her limbs were just a few centemetres long. But we love all of her. We saw her beautiful face... her eyes closed and mouth pouty and closed. Her eyebrows and double eyelid like DY's... her chubby cheeks and little lips like mine. She had a TON of hair. We tried to do hand and foot prints and molds, but because they were so tiny and didn't have skin, we couldn't get proper prints. She was very weepy too, and released a lot of the fluid. In just an hour, we could see her features more.
We were so amazed.
We stayed for two more days on the postpartum unit. Charis was kept in a cooler on the unit for us to hold her and spend time with her. It was so difficult to let go of her everytime. I wish I could hear her voice, her cry. I wish I could rock her and sing her to sleep. I wish I could bathe her, feed her, hold her skin to skin. I wish she would open her eyes when I kissed her. DY dreamed of holding her for the first time, crying loudly in his arms and him not knowing what to do (haha). He dreamed of teaching her his favorite sport, soccer. When I close my eyes I can see exactly how she looked as I gaze at her, asleep in my arms. I am scared that I will someday forget how she looked in my arms, forget the weight of her in my arms.
The next on-call OB Dr. K performed an ultrasound, discovering how the combination of Charis' head (12 cm), cystic hygroma behind the neck and head, and neck position, would make it incredibly challenging to delivery Charis vaginally - her head will most likely be stuck and worst scenario if we waited for the water to break was that we switch to c-section midway a vaginal delivery. This was my fear this past whole month and I knew c-section was what we needed. Very quickly they brought me to the operating room. My parents arrived in time to hear the plan, eyes full of tears, not knowing if God will also take me home as well. By this point our prayer warriors all gathered in the waiting room. Those who had work called in sick, worked remotely, or somehow received a day off because their supervisors were absent. The anaesthetist pulled out my epidural, gave me a spinal injection of medication, then inserted a new epidural. I wanted to hold her right after birth and have DY beside me. Unfortunately, they couldn't get a good block on my lower abdomen, and I had to have a c-section performed under general anaesthesia. I missed Charis in the first hour and was very groggy for the next couple of hours.
When Charis was born, she was very swollen, and really could not have fit through the birth canal. She lost all of her skin from all the swelling except for her head. She had a skull defect (encephalocele) and a huge lump (cystic hygroma) on the back of her head and neck. Her limbs were just a few centemetres long. But we love all of her. We saw her beautiful face... her eyes closed and mouth pouty and closed. Her eyebrows and double eyelid like DY's... her chubby cheeks and little lips like mine. She had a TON of hair. We tried to do hand and foot prints and molds, but because they were so tiny and didn't have skin, we couldn't get proper prints. She was very weepy too, and released a lot of the fluid. In just an hour, we could see her features more.
(Charis day 2)
We were so amazed.
We could not imagine what would have happened if we actually tried vaginal delivery. If I dilated a few hours earlier, water broke earlier, or didn't have pain issues, we might have delivered vaginally by the previous shift OB and it would have been disastrous.
If Charis was delivered later, we aren't sure if we would be able to see her face, see us in her.
When my nurse did bloodwork for mirror syndrome, which I was at higher risk for developing from Charis' condition, she said the moms with mirror syndrome she looked after ended up in ICU after giving birth. That could have been me if my pregnancy continued further.Our hearts bowed with humility and reverence for God, His sovereignty and how He held our lives in His hands, He had complete control, and His will and wisdom were above all else. He protected me, He protected our hearts.
We stayed for two more days on the postpartum unit. Charis was kept in a cooler on the unit for us to hold her and spend time with her. It was so difficult to let go of her everytime. I wish I could hear her voice, her cry. I wish I could rock her and sing her to sleep. I wish I could bathe her, feed her, hold her skin to skin. I wish she would open her eyes when I kissed her. DY dreamed of holding her for the first time, crying loudly in his arms and him not knowing what to do (haha). He dreamed of teaching her his favorite sport, soccer. When I close my eyes I can see exactly how she looked as I gaze at her, asleep in my arms. I am scared that I will someday forget how she looked in my arms, forget the weight of her in my arms.
On Saturday, my parents, DY and myself said our final tearful goodbyes to our precious mighty little one before we left her on the unit, to be taken down to the morgue. Everything felt so surreal to me and DY. We came into the hospital, with her inside me. We left the hospital, with my belly smaller, I'm 10lbs lighter, and no life in my arms. When I got into my parents' car, I felt an emptiness that I have never felt in my life.
The nurse gave me a stuffed bear donated by friends of parents who lost their babies at birth, so that other "still-mothers" and "still-fathers" like ourselves wouldn't leave the hospital empty handed. I was grateful to have received it, but right now, as I am resting at home, I resent it everytime I see it because it can never replace my daughter, and it's a symbol of my loss instead.
The past week had been an emotional roller coaster for us, especially myself. After 2 days of searching, we have found a beautiful resting place for her body.
Everyday I cried when looking at her pictures, catching her scent in the quilt that once wrapped around her, listening to the worship songs that she listened to, but there is healing and grace through tears. Everytime DY plays her songs on the harmonica, it brings us close to her...
Everyday I question myself if I did enough to protect her. And oftentimes, I felt guilty, knowing I could have done more. As I wrestled with these struggles, and shared with DY and some of you, I learned to press on forward. DY and I have been reading, together, "Holding on to Hope" by Nancy Guthrie, and we have found much comfort in learning how to grieve together as husband and wife, in God's love and grace. Grief had introduced a form of intimacy that we haven't experienced before - we shared our feelings with honesty, gentleness and patience like never before.
How you can walk with us:
We understand that you love us and want to do anything you could to help us or share our pain, and you may feel like you're at a loss for words, or you're not sure how you could help. Grief changes us. A few suggestions for supporting us :)
We understand that you love us and want to do anything you could to help us or share our pain, and you may feel like you're at a loss for words, or you're not sure how you could help. Grief changes us. A few suggestions for supporting us :)
- We may or may not enjoy the things we used to do, we may look at life more seriously.
- We may need time by ourselves, and sometimes we may need time with others. Please just ask!
- Do ask us about how we are doing. If we don't feel like we can tell you at the time, it doesn't mean we won't ever tell you. We just need a moment
- Please remember us as mother and father despite our loss. Acknowledge her existence.
- Our parents and siblings are also grieving.
- Watch a movie with us. Bring us a meal. Play boardgames with us. Pay us a visit. :)
- Pray for us
Most importantly, remind us of how she was a gift from God, and we could simply respond with gratitude to God for giving us this gift that has transformed our lives over such a short time. She belonged to Him and He decided to bring her to a place where there is no pain, no suffering, no sickness... a place where there is healing.
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