We first found out about you in early January. A lot of people around the world were celebrating the commencement of a new year, and we were anxious to know if a pregnancy test would reveal another child for us in 2011. We were so excited and thankful when, after months of unfulfilled hopes, we discovered your eternal soul had been created.
We started by telling your brother Valor all about you, and where you were, and how he was going to help us by being a big brother. He was frequently confused about whose abdomen was carrying you—sometimes it was mine, sometimes his own—but he was unmistakably aware that there was a baby on the way, and he seemed pretty happy about it. Eventually we told others: a few people got jigsaw puzzles with the news on the back, and then I made up a little hidden wordplay puzzle in a blog post that a few people solved. That wonderful feeling when you’ve solved a puzzle and found something secret is my strange way of sharing with others the joy I feel in being your daddy. We started thinking about your nursery and anticipated often how your arrival would affect our family.
Today we found out that you are a girl.
But just before that we found out that your fifteen-week-old heart was no longer beating.
All the flutters and kicks your mother felt over the past week have been phantoms. Your mommy and I are now in Pitt Memorial Hospital in Greenville. It’s a new place for us, but it’s a tearfully familiar routine: We’re waiting for the arrival of your precious and fragile body, and remembering that your actual person has already gone on far ahead of us.
I’d have loved to have been your daddy a lot longer. But in the short time we have to say goodbye to you today, I thought I’d tell you a little bit about your name.
“Carolina” is a very old name for us, something we had picked out for a girl long before we moved to North Carolina. It was before Valor, and before Dora, and even before James. The name “Carolina” was actually our front-runner girl name back when your crazy parents were infertile and thought being proactive with making lists of names would somehow help us through the despondency.
When they hear this, some of my friends are going to think this has something to do with Tarheel basketball. Others are going to assume, naturally, that it has to do with our relocation to New Bern a year ago. But this is why we’ve named you Carolina:
36 years ago, I was born in Watts Hospital in Durham, NC. The hospital was later closed, and became a residential high school, the North Carolina School of Science & Mathematics. This is your namesake. (We thought you would prefer “Carolina” over “Science.”) It’s your namesake because it was here that I was born—not 36 years ago at Watts, but later when I returned as a student at NCSSM.
The school was an incubator for human achievement, an institution focused on honing intellectual acuity. But though my mind was well-prepared to solve puzzles and pass tests, it was shamefully sick and unequipped from a moral perspective, wandering aimlessly and pursuing self-glorifying ambitions. My heart was perverse and destructive and regularly sought evil under a disguise of innocence. I fooled many people, but mostly myself. It was through some friends at this school that I heard who Jesus was: a perfect specimen of humanity who willingly embraced his own death as a justice-satisfying substitute for the death that I deserved. This was not the “good person Jesus” or “moral teacher Jesus” I had heard about growing up, but authentic, historically-reliable, “rescue-agent Jesus” speaking to me personally. I echo what the apostle Paul wrote to Timothy: “But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life.” (1 Tim 1:16)
Which brings me to your middle name. Your mother and I believe you know this Jesus, and that you’re in his presence even now. But you may not know much about this word “grace,” which is basically deserving eternal suffering but receiving an eternal reward instead. I remember with great wonder how profane and unrighteously I acted as God’s enemy, and how mysteriously and undeservedly he endured the cross to win me as his friend. We who are forgiven much love much (Luke 7:36-50). Though there is some measure of comfort in knowing you’re already home, I had wanted you to have a testimony like both your parents: sinners who have tasted grace.
We love you, Carolina. Greet the rest of the family for us while we stay here a little longer.
Love,
Daddy
I have posted a few comments over the past few years, one of the many people who first heard your story via Cakewrecks. Seeing the ultrasound image of Carolina Grace just filled my heart with joy a split second before it broke when I kept reading and realized what happened. I am so sorry for your loss…you are in my prayers.
John and Abby,
I am so very sorry. I really wish that I could say something to help make you feel better, but I know that I can’t. However, I can tell you that I am praying for you and that the Lord is watching over and your family.
Brittany T
I have only read your letter to Carolina, as I was liked from Jen’s blog, Epbot, but I want you to know it touched me, and you are all in my prayers.
My family is going through a different kind of loss: My Father has a very rare and aggressive form of brain cancer and he is losing his mind and body all at once, and soon his life. But we rejoice in the graceful promise of life eternal! I’m so glad you have that same perspective.
It can be difficult to comprehend why such painful things happen here on Earth, but without that contrast, how would we know to really appreciate redemption, mercy and grace?
Anyhow… Thanks for being a witness and testament to the world-wide-web of how a believer ought to deal with pain and loss. I hope your family is surrounded by His peace and love and comfort through this period of mourning.
There’s not anything I can say to help. But just so you know, a family and church in Alabama have you in their prayers, and God will help you through this time.
In Christ’s Love
Winter
I’m here via Epbot.
This is a beautifully written letter. I know that I cannot empathize, but I will be praying for you and your family (both on Earth and in Heaven).
My heart grieves with you. I pray that the Lord wraps his arms around you and gives you peace during this time. Thank you for sharing your story with us. Know that you are being surrounded with love, even though you can’t see it.
Love in Christ,
Steph Hartman
John and Abby–my heart breaks for you. I, too, have struggled with infertility and miscarriage, and I know how much like a physical wound it can feel. I pray that God will wrap you up both in His arms (along with your continued surety in his love) and in the kindness of the human beings He has surrounded you with. God bless you!
My heart is heavy after reading your post. I am so sorry for the loss of your daughter, she has a beautiful name. I too suffered a miscarriage discovered by ultrasound and know in small measure, part of the shock, pain, grief and loss your family is going through. My husband & I very much felt the hand of God holding us and I pray you do as well. Though you did not get to parent her in person you will always be her parents, God chose you for this blessing, and his grace will see you through.
I’ve followed your family through Jen Yates’s blogs and was so overjoyed to hear that your family had been blessed with #4. I Am equally heartbroken to see that you have, once again, been faced with a wrenching loss. I can’t begin to imagine what you all have been through with the losses of James and Dora and now little Carolina. Your continued faith through all of these trials is truly an inspiration. Know that there are many around the country and world praying over your family during this trying time. Little Valor has an army of angel siblings watching over him. He is one blessed little boy.
Thank you for sharing. We are another infertile couple who also have made lists of names in a way of clinging to hope. We have never gotten as far along as you guys did and I cannot even imagine your suffering of seeing her (via ultrasounds), feeling her and THEN losing her.
Please just know, as the others who have commented, you are not alone. There is a perfect plan and though I have a hard time liking that plan, there is a reason for it.
My friend posted this scripture today and it made me feel better… maybe in someway, it will help you as well:
Romans 5:3-5 “Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.”
God bless.
You do not know me, I follow John & Jen on both of their wonderful blogs and was drawn to your story this morning after seeing that there was some sad news.
I just wanted to reach out and let you know how amazing your letter was to your daughter. It touched me deeply and profoundly. I am saddened by your loss but also touched by your faith. At a time when things of this nature can make someone question their faith in God you have leaned on Him and let Him carry you. May you and your family be blessed and continue to find comfort in Him.
God bless Carolina Grace!
So sorry to hear this… May you feel God wrapping you up in His arms. May you experience His peace that passes understanding.
my heart aches for all of you. grace, indeed.
What a beautiful testament that you used such tragedy to share the Gospel of salvation! You are a hero of the faith. May you and your family be blessed and able to be a blessing through trial. His strength is made perfect in our weakness and he works all things together for the good of those who love Him. Prayers are being sent your way.
I was directed here from a link on Jen’s blog, Epbot and though I have followed both of her blogs for a long time I have never left a comment. This time I feel compelled. I think the meaning behind your name choice is beautiful and wonderful and I am so sorry that you are having to go through this right now. Thankfully “we do not grieve as those who have no hope”, there is a comfort in the certainty we have of the care and concern Jesus has for us, that your daughter is with Him, God the eternal father. You will all be in my prayers. God Bless you and your family.
Hi there. I’m an internet stranger, but I wanted to tell you I too am grieved by your loss. Your words touched me and I will pray that you are comforted for years to come.
Hi,
I am sorry to hear of this sad event in your lives, but we do not grieve as those who have no hope. Jesus asked His disciples to allow the little children to come to Him and He blessed them. When your little one has gone to Him she is blessed and safe in the arms of our Redeemer. My prayers are with your family through this time. I am blessed by your testimony of God’s grace in your lives at the homegoing of Carolina Grace.
MarnieB
I’m here via Epbot, and I just had to comment and say I share your pain. A little over a year ago, I suffered a miscarriage at only 9 weeks. It was our first child, and we’d tried for so very long to get pregnant. The pain my husband and I went through, both emotionally and physically, was awful, and while it will never completely go away, we know there was a plan for us. Eight weeks after the miscarriage, I got pregnant again, and two months ago our Michael was born. We are overjoyed he’s here, and someday he will know about his brother.
Know that many, many people are thinking of you during your time of grief, and things will get better.
I have not read any of your other posts as I clicked on a link on Jens blog. I wanted to express my condolences to you and your wife.
I am so sorry for your loss I found out via epbot and when I came here I cried just remember lots of people are here for you
I am so sorry for your loss…
It breaks my heart.
My heart and prayers are with you.
Love
Sabrina
John and Abby, may the Good Lord place His warm and healing hands over you both right now. Many hugs and love from me to you.
I’m so sorry for your loss, but I look forward to meeting you & Carolina Grace someday when all tears will be wiped away. God be with you all.
Love in Christ,
Beth H
I just came here via Epbot thinking that I hadn’t checked up on you guys recently and my heart just about stopped when I saw what Jen wrote. I am so deeply sorry for the three of you. My heart is breaking for you. I’m glad that the Lord is keeping little Carolina Grace safe for you until you can all go and join her. Sending many prayers and lots of love to all of you.
I’m another coming over from Jen’s blog(s). This pain is a familiar one for me. I am deeply sorry for your loss. Thank you for expressing your love to your daughter so perfectly! God bless you all and keep your hearts in this sad time.
Please don’t sit round my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
What makes you think that I would leave?
I’m with you dad, so please don’t grieve.
Our bond on earth was much too strong,
Our love will carry on and on…
I’m with you as you go to bed,
I plant sweet kisses on your head.
I’m in the wind, the rain, the snow,
I’m with you everywhere you go.
Please don’t cry daddy, can’t you see?
I’m safe, my spirit soars, I’m free.
Your Grief is felt by many,
I think these comments show,
It just is so uncanny,
To realize that now.
I feel so sorry for you. It must be terrible. Let Him wrap his arms around Carolina and let her meet you in a better world. My condolences to you, from me, Eve, 11 years old.
Beautiful, John. I see the beauty in your sadness. You will always be Carolina Grace’s Daddy.