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Real Experiences Series – Meeting My Deceased Son

NOTHING could have prepared me for what I had to go through. It was after 10 in the evening when we were waiting in the hall. Between denial of the situation he danced with the nursing staff, sometimes with aloof banter, some of which was light-hearted, my wife lay there; her belly took on a definite shape, so I could see the outline of our baby, still, still forever.

While I was talking with others and my wife lay shivering with shock and fever from the infection, I massaged her abdomen; the shape of my son’s left side, hip and thigh can be made out. I was strangely aware of everything that was happening; oddly calm since my son had died hours earlier. Indeed, when I faced these endless moments, I found God, right there with me, giving me the strength to be real. And it wasn’t hard to be real. Through it all, my wife was also very real, despite the emerging fever.

And “through everything” was a hymn for us, when this period could have been rather a disgrace to the enemy of God, who is looking for us beaten into the ground; when the Presence of God overcame all numbing indwellings. “All my eyes are on you…it’s fine…” came the words of a song we played twice, through the birth process, through the tears of longing for eternity and the terrifying anticipation that lay ahead. as an unprecedented experience.

I will never forget the moments leading up to Nathanael’s birth. It was a long cesarean birth procedure (compared to how my previous four children were born). The atmosphere in the theater was terrible. Silence except for Kristene DiMarco’s voice and ethereal music. No one wanted to mention the elephant in the room. My answer was to give grace—heaven knows we all needed it.

Every time we noticed a movement in my wife’s belly as the surgeons manipulated tissue, we prepared for the moment Nathanael would actually arrive. There seemed to be several iterations as we prepared. The medical team worked hard to get Nathanael in a position to get him out. When they were finally born, our midwife gave me the signal. He spread my cradled hands in a towel. As soon as I got up from the stool I was sitting on, I was greeted by the surgeon who handed me my son. As with all of my child’s births, nothing could have prepared me for the emotions I’m feeling now. But this moment the world was different. There was no positive pressure in the joy of caring for a baby. There was no eye contact or interaction from the surgeon. The moment was dormant; clean. It was an incredibly sad moment for which they mustered the courage.

I grabbed Nathanael with both hands – my son, weighing almost 8 pounds, which was very healthy for 36 weeks and 2 days pregnant – and immediately kissed his forehead; the kiss of desire. His skin had a distinctive scent. There was a frown on his face. He looked like his brother, just sleeping. I just wanted to hold it. I took her over to Sarah and we both cried for a while. The operating staff just continued their work, leaving us to ourselves. We weren’t in a hurry. We spent the initial 3 hours with Nathanael, including bathing and changing back in my wife’s delivery room.

Such moments are life and time stands still. Nothing else matters. And you have the distinct impression that your life has changed forever; a very surreal feeling that demands surrender. But in a strange way, I was also so happy to meet Nathanael like this. God was good in supporting me and us when we could have been so overwhelmed with emotion that we didn’t make the most of the moment.

Later that morning – literally only five hours later – the whole family was present as Heartfelt took photos for us. It was a difficult experience for several in our family, but everyone did their best, and that’s all anyone can ask for. We were very proud of our family during the whole period.


One thing I learned in that darkest hour,
I certainly wasn’t the one with the power,
Only by faith did I partake of God’s grace,
Because I walked obediently and sought his face.

© 2015 SJ Wickham.

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