GRA8 GOD

I was surprised at how writing out the details of January 7th affected me. I think it must be part of grieving and healing...having moments when it seems like a blurry memory and then others when it feels as though you are in the moment and it is happening all over again.

On my drive to work this morning I felt tired and worn out from the emotion of everything and I think God knew I needed a little reminder of who is in control. As I glanced at the license plate of the car in front of me, I read: GRA8 GOD.

Now, this would have been a wonderful reminder in and of itself, but it is even better than that. Are you ready? Yes? Ok. This is not the only time that God has used this car's license plate to bring me comfort and reassurance. This car happens to be the same car that I traveled behind as I drove Ashley and Jaqueline home on January 6th. I know because of the license plate:).

Alright, back to Children's hospital- fourth floor, January 8th.

I remember Jaqueline feeling so tired. She hadn't eaten or really slept in I don't know how long. Ashley was squeezing our hands when we held hers, but that was about it. She was on oxygen and Jaqueline had held her for a while in the morning, but her breathing seemed to worsen and so she put her back into the crib.

I forget the time, but I think it was early afternoon when I asked her family to leave so that Jaqueline could hold Ashley again and get some sleep. We positioned Ashley in her arms and I left along with everyone else so that Jaqueline would actually rest. I was visited by one of the nurses while I sat in the family waiting room. We spoke for a while and then she asked, "Do you know how Jaqueline would want Ashley to pass away- would she want to be holding her?" So many big questions that I couldn't give the answers to. I tried guessing and explained that this morning, Jaqueline had been quick to put Ashley back in the crib when she seemed to be getting worse. I gave up and said that it might be best to ask Jaqueline. This was a decision I didn't want to make.

She explained to me that Ashley's vitals had started to fall when she was in Jaqueline's arms this morning and that sometimes children hold on because they know their parents are not ready, but that they seem to know when they feel safe and are able to let go.

At that I couldn't hold back the tears. She cried with me.

We decided that we would get a bed and that Jaqueline could lay down with Ashley as a compromise.

Sara, our amazingly gentle and compassionate nurse on that day, came in to tell me that Jaqueline had been asking for me.

I entered the room and sat next to Jaqueline. She was holding Ashley in her arms and Ashley looked so peaceful. I repositioned her oxygen mask that had slipped down and then went to help the nurse move the bed into the room.

Someone came in to check Ashley and Jaqueline asked if everything was alright. The lady just sort of nodded and left.

I got the bed ready and encouraged Jaqueline to take advantage of it. She started to get up and then didn't move. I knelt down by their chair and looked at Ashley again. She looked like an angel and her breathing wasn't labored. Wait. Was she breathing? I slowly took her hand and felt for a pulse. Nothing. I placed my hand gently on her chest. Nothing. Jaqueline asked me, "Is she breathing?" I walked out and the nurses and the doctor were talking outside of the room.

"I don't think Ashley is breathing," I explained.

I rushed back to the chair next to Jaqueline and as soon as the doctor came in to remove the oxygen mask, we knew.

What happened next was the most tragic, yet beautiful display of pain and love. The doctors left and it was just Jaqueline and Ashley....I sat next to them, wiping Jaqueline's tears and my own when I could. Unlike the night before, Jaqueline did not tell her daughter, "Noo Noo...don't go yet." Instead, in between sobs she would take a deep breath and tell her daughter, "I love you, Ashley. I know you are with Jesus now. You will always be in heart." Her words touched my heart in a way I cannot fully explain.

Jaqueline bathed her daughter one last time. She dressed her and we called family to let them know what had happened and that they were welcome to come say 'goodbye' to Ashley.

Lee was on his way with David and we received permission for David to enter the room. Lee prepared him on the way to the hospital: "Ashley will look like she is sleeping, but she is really with Jesus right now. Jaqueline, daddy, mommy, and other people might cry because they are sad and miss Ashley, but we are also happy because we know she is in heaven."

What a blessing he was. Amidst all of the tears in the room, David's little smile was like a ray of sunshine. What was more...he didn't go in and just start playing or doing his own thing, he went in and right away he approached Jaqueline and Ashley. He gave Ashley a kiss and Jaqueline a big big hug. He asked, "Ashley's in heaven? Ashley's not sick anymore?" We didn't keep in him the room much longer, but God used our precious little boy in the short time he was there.

That evening we looked at pictures from when Ashley was born. Jaqueline's first foster family had brought them along and it was my first glance at Ashley as an infant. What a beautiful gift that was. That night, Jaqueline couldn't leave the hospital. We stayed the night in the family room. I held Jaqueline tight as she cried out in pain and I couldn't help but think of those pictures of Ashley's birth and reflect on how there is pain in giving life and so much more in letting it go.

She cried herself to sleep and we woke up early, feeling dazed. As we left the hospital, we put one foot in front of the other, hung on to each other, and began our journey to healing knowing that despite all of the pain, we have a GRA8 GOD.

Ashley Damian Cervantes

October 29, 2008-January 8, 2010