Bennett Torger Johnson
Born: June 30, 2009, 8:13 PM Weighed 6.4 ounces, 8.4 inches long
Ps. 139:5 You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it. 13 For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.
I’m a mom! I truly feel like a mommy now- I’ve held a perfect little baby boy in my hands and arms, I’ve
kissed tiny feet (no bigger than one inch) and a little nose smaller than a pea. I watched as my darling husband held our baby boy in his hands so gently. I’ve said, “I love you little baby Bennett”. I’ve felt the anguish of a parent being helpless to aid my hurting, dying child, who I felt kick inside me, with the sac of waters drying out. I’ve heard the strong heart beat (154 bpm) of a healthy baby right up until delivery; and then falling silent upon entering this world. He was amazing and small and delicate and fully formed. His features and traits could be established and identified already- he had Charlie’s poochy/pouty lips. A strong shoulder line, and muscle in his arms already. His hand had creases in it, on the handprint we have, it looks like mine and my dad’s- the “life lines” were in the same places as ours. His feet were long- and he had skinny, long, little legs like his daddy -he would have been tall like both of us without a doubt. His skin was very thin, shiny, smooth and red still; the lacey small veins could be seen all over his little body. On his face and forehead the pours had developed, and you could just barely see the baby eyebrow hairs coming in. His eyelids had formed, but were still fused shut. He had the cutest teeny ears, and small sweet mouth (less than .5cm wide). His mouth opened and closed, in it was a gum line and the littlest tongue I’ve ever seen. His bones were there and his joints all moved; all the fingers and toes fully separated and bent. And as I held him for the last time, his mouth opened and his hand slipped up by his mouth and his little thumb popped right in. It was adorable. Bennett is memorable.
I feel like I now understand labor better. (Maybe not fully, like a 40-week labor, but I definitely went through it. I think the intenseness would last longer with a bigger baby.) I know the ache (not pain of the stinging, shooting, cutting, searing sort) of labor pains, I know now that my body gets a rush of adrenaline; so much that it made me shake uncontrollably. I know why mommy’s moan, in what I can imagine would be the joy of anticipation of their little one. Because even knowing my baby would die upon birth, going through it, and seeing the little life debut out of me was utterly amazing! I was fascinated with how God orchestrates the whole birthing process! And even though Bennett slipped into Jesus’ presence before I met him, I was still filled with a happiness that’s hard to express. I’m thankful that I had the privilege of birthing, looking at, crying over, holding, memorizing, and kissing my son. It was still stunning to hear the nurse say, “It’s a little boy!” I praise God for my fearfully and wonderfully made baby boy!
The experience was excruciating. Definitely not a path I would choose to go down. One just doesn’t expect to be woke at 2:30 AM on a Sunday morning, June 28, out of a dead sleep, having done nothing out of the ordinary, to the warm gush of water between my legs. –Unexpected at 18.5 weeks especially. I got up in a sleepy stooper and woke Charlie, “I think my water broke!” watery, light pink, amniotic fluid continued to flow out of me at a quick rate, through a phone call to the doctor on call, through the late, long car ride to the hospital (25 minutes to Abbott Northwestern, downtown Minneapolis) and the walk to the 6th floor. In the car I thought for sure that our baby “Turkish” had died. We went straight up to the labor and delivery area, and they did a “ph” test that confirmed it was really my placenta sac that had broken. (they call this PROM, premature rupture of membranes). We discussed options with the very understanding and patient OB on call, Dr. Peterson, and he said rest until 7 or 7:30am and we’ll decide then what to do next. We were no where near being able to rest, but we managed to call our doula, Sara Dick from Bethlehem, and Bridget and my mom-all who drove up right away. Sara arrived at about 6:10am. With her help and insight we decided not to induce labor. There was a small chance (less than 5%), that God could miraculously seal the hole in my placenta, and my body, which continuously makes amniotic fluid, could then fill it back up. I’d be on bed rest then until baby Turkish was born. So we stayed in the hospital all day Sunday and Sunday night. Bridget and mom arrived about 9:30am, and hung out with us, cried and prayed with us.
That night Pastor Kenny Stokes and his wife came out and we got to pray together for Bennett, and Charlie and I, with Kenny had a baby dedication for our son. It went something like this… “Little one (we didn’t yet know if it was a boy), together with your parents, who love you dearly, and this people who care about the outcome of your faith, I dedicate you to God, surrendering together with them all worldly claims upon your life, in the hope that you will belong wholly to God for ever.” He also encouraged us by saying that what we had chosen to do (wait) was hard, but the most God-glorifying choice.
Talk about tough, and real promises. We were all in tears after that. Never had surrendering “all earthly claims on a life” been so profoundly real. And at the same time, very freeing. God owes me nothing, he’s not promised me or any child or person a certain number of days. I had preconceptions that I would get to spend time with this little one growing inside me, to love on him, hug him and watch him grow up; but God saw fit that this baby should go directly from the darkness of my womb to his loving arms- bypassing sin, hurt, pain and guilt, and sorrow on earth; to know fully, a Savior and Abba who loves and will hold him close as He worships and sings to his Maker, along side a host of other such little ones. Tears roll down my cheeks now -of pain and grief- but also of complete gratefulness and promise in imagining that scene. This is part of His promised plan!
We decided early Sunday morning that we should not take any further steps (taking this baby’s life into our own hands- meaning that we knew if we induced labor, he would undoubtedly die). We felt like God should have full control of this baby’s life or death. It wasn’t our decision to make. So we waited. We waited until Monday morning in the hospital, with constant checking for infection or any beginnings of labor pains, etc. but nothing happened. They released us to go home and continue to wait, they would check again, via ultrasound on Wednesday, the baby’s heart rate, and my condition- unless something else happened between time.
Monday from 10am until Tuesday 12:30pm was the most trying, dark, painful, sorrowful, heavy path Charlie and I have ever walked down. My bible study girls came out and kneeled by me on the couch and listened, and cried and prayed for the baby, Charlie and I- that our trust and faith would remain unbroken, encouraged me with a hymn “Day by Day”, and brought us a dinner. Charlie’s parents came late that night. I realized that it wasn’t just me who was hurting. There were a number of people who loved us, and this little baby and didn’t want us to hurt. It’s a precious thing to have friends and family care so intensely about me and a baby they’ve never met, that they cry along side us, walking the dark path, fighting and mourning and praying with us.
Charlie and I wept. Tears spilled out in the living room, in the bed, in lawn chairs in our back yard. You could visibly see our hurt. We felt a heavy burden of responsibility for this waiting period and the precious life that was still inside of me. We knew the probable outcome, but were scared of the potential life outcomes (if he actually lived). Were we ready to deal with those too? How could we be responsible for bringing a child into a world (even for a few days or hours) to be poked, prodded, etc. then die in a more painful way? God had given us strong conviction to stand strongly pro life. Life belongs to God; he is the decider of the timing of birth and death, not us. So we would trust and wait that He would (did) work it out in His timing. In my heart of hearts I began to pray that Jesus would just take this baby to live with him, and spare him any type of hurt.
We took showers, finally, at 12:20pm Tuesday. It was then that God chose to move in answering our prayers. I stepped into the shower, having had no physical discomfort, pain or changes. I washed and felt something squishy as a brushed over it… I called Charlie and his Mom in to come look, I was too scared to look or feel again. It was the umbilical cord. “It’s OK. *breath* Praise the Lord! This is an answer to prayer!” were the first words out of my mouth. Charlie’s adrenaline must have gone sky high; he wasn’t sure what to do next. He cared for me so well, he’s so tender. We called Dr. Flom. God allowed a peace to rush over me in body and soul.
Mom and Dad J. drove us to the hospital. I rode lying down in the back of the mini van. I had 3-4 contractions. What a new and strange feeling that was.
* * *
We thoughtfully picked a name for our son, Bennett Toger Johnson. The name “Bennett” because it is Latin for “precious little one” and “Torger” after Charlie’s great-grandfather. We hadn’t really known what “Torger” meant at the time, but we learned that it is Norse for “Spear of God.” We thought that was very fitting, because although he did not live long, he was used so powerfully by God to bring God glory, to change our lives and impact the lives of many others.
Lamentations 3:22 The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
