Our Three Perfect Guardian Angels

Melissa reached out to me when she recently lost yet another baby.  She has now had two miscarriages and one stillborn daughter.  My heart aches for her.  She continues to heal.  I appreciate her willingness to open her heart and share her pure, honest, raw emotions.  Her thoughts mirror those of so many who have been through this heartbreaking experience. 

Melissa is actually a wonderful family friend.  In fact, I used to babysit her.  Her smile melted my heart, and still does!  She has an angel mother who has been so supportive of her throughout her life, and who has taught me a lot about mothering.  Melissa’s father passed away five and a half years ago, and I remember how kind and gentle he was, and just how loving these parents always have been.  I absolutely adore this family!  They continue to make such a difference in my life and anyone else who knows them, too. 

Melissa begins with thoughts of this most recent miscarriage, then tells the story of angel Ruby.  Hang in there, sweet Melissa.  We empathetic mothers band together with you, we love and support you, we understand the sorrow, and we know that God does indeed heal hearts!  Although the pain may never completely go away, it does become more manageable.  It’s okay to ask for help.  There are many earthly and heavenly angels ready and willing to lend a hand and a shoulder to lean on, one step at a time!

Here is Melissa’s story:

“The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only ‘I ‘m sorry for your loss.’ But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover life silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?” ~ Laura Bush 

With this latest pregnancy, so much responsibility was placed on this little one even before I saw the ultrasound. But by then, it was too late. I thought that maybe this baby could help heal my heart with God and restore faith that my body can carry a healthy baby to full-term. But all I saw was a little sack and a lifeless baby who had stopped growing two weeks earlier. I was crushed. A million thoughts ran through my mind.  “Why am I going through this again? Wasn’t burying a stillborn baby and already having another miscarriage enough for me? Why was God doing this to me again? I know that I had a hard time connecting to this baby out of fear of losing him or her. Was this my fault? I can’t go through this again!”

But, here I am, living reality, and I know that I have to do things differently this time. Here is my story... 

In November of 2016, my family was anticipating the arrival of our first baby girl. She would be welcomed into a home with two older brothers who were eager to meet her. Let’s be honest, I was more than thrilled to have a girl to chum around with in a house full of boys  We were at “The Big” ultrasound where they check and measure the baby’s growth to see if everything is okay. We had had this ultrasound tech once before with one of our other babies. We knew she was thorough and tender hearted. As she measured and scanned our little Ruby’s heart, she could not get the images she wanted. In fact, she spent 20 minutes focusing on her heart. Finally, I said, “I cannot handle the pressure on my abdomen; can we move on and get the other measurements?” She quickly moved on and finished doing what she needed to do. I received a phone call early Monday morning asking if I could go in and see another ultra sound tech who had a machine with higher resolution. They told me not to worry, that my doctor just wanted to make sure things were okay with her heart. I proceeded to tell her that the tech spent 20 minutes looking at the heart and she had a hard time seeing what she needed to see. The nurse expressed again that is why they wanted me to go see the specialist. We got in that afternoon. My husband and I did not know what to expect. We thought it was just another routine check, and that everything was going to be okay. 

As the ultrasound tech conducted the exam, she mentioned that the baby was measuring two weeks smaller than what she should be, and then proceeded to look at the heart. Now, I am not a doctor or ultrasound tech, but I do know that a healthy heart has four chambers. As I saw our little girl’s heart beating on the screen, it was evident that there were only three, with a little flap waving with every beat. At that point, the doctor reviewed the scans and told us in a very calm voice, “When we see hearts like this, the baby either has Down’s Syndrome, will be stillborn, or will live only a few hours.” My heart sunk. I could not believe what I was hearing. I refused to believe what I was hearing. This could not be happening! Why was this happening? All I could do was have “Hope;” hope for a miracle. He proceeded to tell us he could not tell the extent of the heart damage, and that we would need to have a prenatal echo cardiogram at Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake City.  

As I walked out of the doors that day, I prayed for a miracle to happen and that she would be able to have a little surgery when she was born, and she would be fine, and we would move on with our lives. There are so many babies born with holes in their hearts, and with the advancement of today’s technology, things were going to be okay, weren’t they? Miracles happen all of the time. There are a ton of stories on Facebook where the doctor tells the expectant parents that their baby is not going to live and then a miracle happens, and they give birth to a healthy baby. I was going to be one of those stories. This little girl was going to beat the odds and be a miracle baby. I was determined that would happen. I prayed for it. I put my whole trust in God that she would be okay. I trusted Him! 

The appointment was made three weeks out. My husband Brian called me and asked if I wanted to bump up the appointment. He works at the University of Utah School of Medicine and knows many of the cardiologists and schedulers. He could have arranged for an earlier appointment. I declined his offer. Ruby was measuring two weeks small. Maybe in that three weeks she would get bigger and her heart would start to heal. Inside, I was hoping for a miracle. They would go in and see that her heart was healed, and she would be truly a miracle baby! My husband also hoped for a miracle. He took the report from the ultrasound to one of the pediatric cardiologists he works with to get their opinion. The pediatric cardiologist’s comment to him was, “in other countries, when they see hearts like this, the mother would terminate the pregnancy. If this baby survives, it will have a very difficult life.” We both refused to believe this! 

Weeks went by.  We prayed.  We fasted. We pleaded with Heavenly Father for our little Ruby to be healed. I will never forget Friday, December 2, 2016. My little girl was kicking me all day long. I went throughout my day feeling her little jabs, until finally I acknowledged her. I commented, “What are you trying to tell me? Are you saying, ‘Here I am, and I am going to be strong and be healed?’ Or, are you telling me, ‘Here I am, I want you to know that I am here, because I will not be here much longer.’” The next day I did not feel her much. I figured that it was just a time within the pregnancy that I would not feel her, as she was still so little. The next day was Sunday, and I still did not feel anything. Monday was the same. I had an appointment on Tuesday with doctor. I told her what I had experienced over the weekend. She calmed my nerves and said that this is normal, based on where I was within my pregnancy. We talked about getting my own fetal heart monitor, so I could check at home. She began the ultrasound to put my fears to rest. 

There was little Ruby, lifeless on the monitor. We could not believe what we were seeing.  No heart beat! No movement! Just silence! We were all stunned!  Was this really happening? My doctor could not believe her eyes, either.  We all just broke down in tears. She said, “I honestly thought you would deliver her, and she would be able to have a little surgery, and everything would be just fine.” She proceeded to tell us what our options were and gave us her personal cell phone number. She asked us to call her when we were ready to go to the hospital to deliver the baby.  There were hugs and tears. I truly love my doctor.  She has been there for all of my babies—the births of our boys, the miscarriages, and Ruby—for the last six and half years. I know she sincerely cares about me as an individual, as well as the healthy delivery of my babies. 

That drive home was the longest of my life. I just cried. I still could not believe this was happening.  I did not know how I was going to tell my boys that they were not going to have a baby sister to play with. They had offered many prayers that Ruby’s “broken heart would be healed.” I did not know how I was going to explain that her “broken heart” had given up. We pulled up to my mom’s house. We went in, hugged the boys, and told them what had happened. They understood as much as their little heads could, and then went on their merry way. All I could do was sit with my mother and cry.

The next day, we made arrangements with the funeral home. Friends and family members were frantically looking for angel dresses, and for any other ways they could help and support us. Brian and I went to pick out an angel figurine to place on the built-in shelving in our front room. Throughout my life, my parents have given me Lladros, Hummels, and Willow Tree figurines to signify important milestones and events in my life. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would be adding angels to my collection. Nor did I think I would burying a baby at my age. But here I was, looking for burial plots. Of course, I did not want her next to strangers. She would be placed at the feet of my father, who had passed away four years earlier, so he could look after her. Over the hours and hours of therapy I have received over this past year, I have accepted the fact that my father would look after her, and it is one of the ways that I have been able to feel peace. I remember how my father raised and cared for me. I was able to let Ruby go and be cared by him, until I am able to. So, Dad, you have three of my babies to care for; be kind to them and love them, just as you did for me. 

                                               

That evening, my husband called the doctor and told her we thought we were ready to deliver the baby.  We went on Thursday, December 8, 2016 to deliver our little Ruby. I even had my doctor do one last ultra sound just to make sure that nothing had changed. For the next 12 hours, while we waited for her to come, we watched Christmas movies and stayed in contact with our doula and family members. At 9:45 pm our little Ruby was delivered. Our doula arrived shortly after and assisted me with the rest of the horrid process. I will be honest, it was hard for me to look at our little girl. It did not know what to expect. She was 22 weeks’ gestation, and I was not familiar with all the developmental stages. Pregnancy apps do not prepare you for that. But I do remember she fit in my hand. She had eyebrows, and her little foot was the size of my

thumb. Her hands were barely big enough to wrap around my pointer finger. I could see that her eyes were open. My doctor said, “she wanted to make sure you knew that she saw you.” Moments later, a representative from Utah Share came in and dressed her in a tiny diaper and a little dress.  She took pictures of her tiny features, and with my husband and me. When our boys arrived, they were eager to see and hold their baby sister. 

My husband and I were led by their innocence, and how they embraced her with love. We hesitated at first to have the boys see her, but they quickly put our minds at ease. It was as if they already knew what to expect and how to handle the situation. We continued taking photos of this precious moment with our little family.                                                           

That night, I had the most spiritual and sacred moment I have ever had with my dad.  I know the veil is thin; and I was reminded that night that he has been there for me through every part of my life, even since he passed away. That is why I felt comforted in relinquishing my parental care of the babies I have lost to him. 

My friends and family put on a wonderful little funeral to honor our little Ruby Sue Davis. The casket was so small that it fit on a table. The photos from the hospital were framed and displayed 

throughout the room, so those who attended could see and feel of love of this sweet little spirit. We laid her to rest next to my dad. 

Six weeks after Ruby’s birth, I began to hemorrhage. I had to go back to the hospital for an emergency D&C.  It was very traumatic—physically as well as emotionally.  I remember thinking, ‘is this really how I am going to die?’ Then, after my recovery, I enrolled into therapy! 

My husband and I learned how men and women grieve differently.  Where I was outwardly grieving, Brian was grieving inside on his own. I learned that since he was unable to feel the kicks of his daughter, the place he felt more connected to her was at her grave. He made weekly visits to her where she was buried, where he could outwardly express his feelings, and then he would ask my Dad to look after her until he was able to do so. I had no idea he made these weekly visits to her grave.  It just seemed to me that he did not care.  However, once we got on the same page, we learned ways to help us rebuild a new foundation to help strengthen our relationship. It is not perfect; we still have our spats, but we do know that we are in this for the long haul. 

And, as many do, I ate my emotions. I gained so much weight that I found myself in the ER on Thanksgiving with my blood pressure through the roof! I thought I was having a heart attack. But instead, I was having an anxiety attack, and my weight was a major contributor to my high blood pressure. I realized just why I was experiencing the anxiety attack—I was a week away from the first anniversary of Ruby’s death. That ER visit was a needed wakeup call for me to change my lifestyle. I had two little boys who still depended on me. I got a plan for healthy eating and exercise to help get me off my high blood pressure medication. 

In an effort to redirect my emptiness, my husband and I even started a new business. My sister opened up a co-op boutique called Salt Washed Co. in Holladay, Utah. I wanted to create something to honor Ruby and to try and fill the hole in my heart. My space in her company is called Ruby & Rose Collection. All of the red tags represent my daughter. You can take a piece of her home with you. Although this does not replace the loss of my baby, this has helped provide meaning and has been a welcome distraction. 

                                                                        

With this most recent loss, I knew things had to change. I needed to handle this loss differently. I had put too much responsibility on this little soul to help fix my problems. But in reality, this little one has changed my heart. I realize I now have three perfect spirits—too perfect to come to this earth. They did not need to prove themselves to God. I saved them from coming into this world, which can be awful at times.  I do not have to worry about whether or not they are going to make the right choices. My walls and barriers started to come down at the end of February. My heart started to open up to how my trials have shaped my life.  I am searching to find the meaning of “enduring to the end.” I have had the ‘experienced’ ladies within my ward as well as close family friends embrace me as I share my pain and the thoughts that accompany them. With the wisdom they have learned through the years, they have helped me to see what God has been trying to teach me during this past year of hell. I knew that I have needed to reach out to people who truly understand the pain I have been feeling in my soul. 

This is why I am participating in Running with the Angels. Each of our stories are unique, but we do have one thing in common. We each understand the feeling of emptiness from the tiny hand we cannot hold.

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A Warrior in Heaven, an Angel on Earth

 I continue to be amazed at the effect that an angel baby has on the lives of the rest of us. Little Ares' family knew that he wouldn't be here on earth for very long.  Receiving that news is impossible toadequately describe.  I am so grateful that Angel Watch was there to help.  

This beautiful mother, Summer, is the daughter of my cousin, Jay.  Not only does this story hit close to home, but it touches my heart, as I think about my dear cousin mourning the loss of a grandson as well as comforting his grieving daughter.  I also discovered how selfless this mother is, as I learned the reason why Summer and Eldis opted to allow him to grow to full-term, and even the sweet acts of love from Summer for months after his birth.  It is humbling to see the love this father has for his child, as well as his wife.  There is a very evident reverence for life with Summer and Eldis.  This Saturday, they will join us at the Running with Angels 5K.

This beautiful family is very close, and Summer's sister, Oakely, wrote the following account of sweet baby Ares.  You may need to have some tissues handy.  

(For more pictures and heart-warming stories, visit Oakley's blog:  http://nothingdownaboutit.com/blog/warrior-in-heaven-angel-on-earth)

Over a month later and I still struggle to write this post without tears flooding my face, not just tears of grief and sadness, but also tears of joy and gratitude. I didn’t anticipate missing such tragic days or long to relive them the way that I do. How could something so sad and difficult be one of the most precious and beloved memories of my life? Nothing could possibly have bonded our already “tight-knit” family the way baby Ares did.

I’ll never forget the day we all found out. My sister Summer sent the text in our family thread-- “something looks wrong with the baby’s brain, please pray” and we did. After my quick but fervent prayer, I rushed my kids out the door to go to tumbling all while knowing everything would be just fine. I called our older sister... we talked about possibilities and I was sure it would be something that would resolve itself. Within the hour we got the diagnosis… Summer sent out what the doctors were most sure of... Anencephaly. A brainstem with no brain growing on top of it and no skull to protect what little was there. I couldn’t even process what my sister was calmly telling us. I called her hoping for more possibilities and answers and she sounded so calm and collected as she sat there waiting for her husband and more doctors. I had to get off the phone before I changed her disposition with my need to cry out in sadness. Then I did just that, cried and cried with every tear in my body… I pulled the car over due to blurry vision and buried my head in the steering wheel begging the Lord above to be with my sister. And He was. 

When the doctors were sure of the diagnosis and that the outcome would be no more than a few hours of life, they offered to deliver the baby right then so that she could start the healing process. Without even a second to think, she declined insisting she carry out the next twenty weeks to get to know the son inside of her. She wanted to feel every kick and flutter and have all the time she could with him. She wanted to donate all viable organs to another baby and the rest to research. My warrior little sister insisted on giving her boy more time and needed to feel more purpose.

Months followed with sadness lingering over all of our heads. I know very few families who are as close as us Clark sisters, in turn forcing our husbands to be close as well as super involved parents. Therefore, when one of us is experiencing a trial, we all feel it very deeply and this situation felt like a huge, shared, painful load. No one could ever feel the immense pain that my sister and brother-in-law have felt but we couldn’t even imagine it with the heaviness that we have all felt together. We tried to say the right things (often times doing the opposite), we took food and treats over regularly, we helped with their other two kids so they could have lots of time to cry and we prayed like we’ve never prayed before. It was a slow five months for us siblings and our parents as we were anxious for them to begin healing. For my sister the time flew too quickly and she experienced panic attacks, fearing he would come early and her time with him would be cut short. She says she has never felt like she has known anyone as well as she knew the special soul inside her belly. She spent little time complaining about her pregnancy discomfort, lack of sleep, weight gain or swollen body (which at one point needed a large needle poke inside of her to drain extra fluid). She spent lots of time rubbing her belly, gazing at ultrasound pictures and feeling proud to be this angel's mommy.

The day came and none of us could sleep the night before. We were nervous, stressed and so sad as we walked into that hospital. Then we got to the room just before they wheeled her out for surgery and little sister was calm and beautiful. She was ready to meet her son and let the heavens open to take him home. As ready as you can ever be… She and her sweet husband held hands and we all cried as they left the room. As a family, we waited anxiously for them to return. I don’t remember ever being this nervous in my entire life. What if he didn’t make it through the surgery and we don’t get the couple of hours we have been expecting? What if he is already gone? I ached for my sister and brother-in-law as I anticipated what was to come.

Just under an hour passed before they came back. We all pushed up against the walls trying to be reverent and quiet as they brought sweet Ares in to meet his parents (whisked away after the c-section).  All of his aunts, uncles and grandparents were anxious to greet him as well. Tears dampened every face in that room as we saw our huge, chunky angel-boy get handed to his mommy and she pulled him into her chest. 

 The love was the strongest kind of love and the room was full of it. The tears turned from sad tears to happy tears as we gazed at his precious face. A hat covered his sunken-in head where his brain was not. With the misformation of his face, he was one of the most beautiful babies I have ever seen. He was perfect.

Summer and Eldis generously shared about a half-hour of their precious time with him and then we all said good-bye to our family angel and waited down the hall. Soon after we left, they took him off life support to allow him to return to heaven. To all of our surprise, he fought for an extra five hours of life with his parents, sister and brother, aunts, uncles and grandparents. Since his heart beat stayed strong for hours, we got more chances to go in to kiss and hold him. As his heart started slow down, they invited us into the room to watch him slip back to heaven.  That time was too precious to even type about.

Once he was pronounced gone, my surprising calm sister finally broke down with the rest of us. I can’t relive that moment without feeling the same deep pain in my chest that was felt that day. A pain so emotional that it became physical. I cannot even begin to describe the anguish upon watching the donor team take her baby from her arms… it was too much for even the strongest men in our family.

The next ten days passed with constant family time. We would go to my sisters, take their kids, let she and Eldis cry together and then return to distract them in the evenings. It was like a new routine. We talked, and still talk often about his birthday and how perfectly such an imperfect situation went. We speak of how well he knows his parents and how he fought to give them those extra hours that they were so desperate to have. We talk about how proud we are that his organs have been put to great use. We joke about how big he was and that it represented his huge spirit. We cry when we miss him.

The funeral was equally as perfect of a day. Again, every possible emotion was felt but the strongest, was love. It was amazing to see the impact his tiny life had on so many dear friends and family. The support was beautiful and truly unbelievable. The spirit of love and family was stronger than ever and you couldn't help but feel joy with the pain. 

Fast forward a month and a half later and my sister is pumping breast milk for a baby she found online. He is allergic to formula and his mom cannot produce milk of her own. Summer and Eldis are quick to hold the newborns at church and new babies born into our extended family. Yesterday Summer took a meal to a friend who just had a baby boy of her own and was anxious to hold him. 

I could not be an ounce more proud of Summer and Eldis. Their strength and attitude through this trial has been so beautiful and inspiring. They are so thankful to have this angel watching over him and look forward to the day they rejoin him in heaven. We all do. 

Paetyn's Journey

As expectant parents of a baby with a fatal diagnosis before birth, Jaelyn and Tim heard those three words that are a parent's nightmare--"incompatible with life."  Even after many years, I can still recall the surreality of hearing our doctor speak those same words about our baby, Emily's heart defect.  

I admire Jaelyn and Tim's willingness to share their family's story.  It has only been five months since Paetyn arrived and then made her way back home.  But, as Jaelyn explains below, they certainly did make the best of each moment they had with her during the pregnancy, and for the few short precious hours of her life.  We will join with them in celebrating Paetyn's journey at the Running with Angels 5K on May 19th.

Paetyn’s Journey

As first-time parents, we were thrilled to find out that we were expecting. We had a handful of names that we liked, but our dreams of what we would name our first child became real when we found out that we were expecting. We never thought that we would be the ones to name our baby before it was born, but looking back now we realize what a blessing in disguise this decision was. Daddy(Tim) is a big Bronco’s fan and has always admired Peyton Manning as a quarterback, and also as a person. Mommy (Jaelyn) also liked the name, and not knowing the gender of our baby yet, we decided that Peyton would be a good name that could go either way and we would figure out the spelling after that.. We had lists of a dozen ways to spell it, but after finding out that we were expecting a little girl, we settled on “Paetyn” because it was spelled like Mommy’s name, “Jaelyn”.

We excitedly looked forward to our “Big Dr’s Appointment” where we would get to see a longer, more in depth ultrasound of our baby girl and how she was growing and developing. A few short minutes into the ultrasound, the radiology tech put down the transducer, told us there was a problem, and that she was going to go get our Dr. Our minds swirled and our hearts broke in that moment, and later as we met with the specialists, told our family, and tried to cope with the news that our baby had a condition that was considered “incompatible with life”.

Paetyn was diagnosed with a condition called Acrania, related to the more commonly known diagnosis of Anencephaly. This meant that the top part of her skull did not form around her brain. We were told that as she moved and grew while in the womb that her brain would likely deteriorate and it was unknown if she would survive her birth. If she did, there was no way of knowing if she would live a few minutes, a few hours, or possibly even a few days.

As hard as this news was to accept, we recognized quickly that the time we had to spend with her would be short, so we decided to make the best of every moment that we had with her, starting right then. We had many family get-togethers, dressed Paetyn up as a Pumpkin for Halloween, a Turkey for Thanksgiving, and even took her to see Santa. We made every day count in the things that we did together as a family of 3, and we cherished every little kick and squirm.

Paetyn J Allen decided to make her entrance into the world at 32 weeks on Sunday, December 17, 2018. She was 2lbs 10 oz, 14 inches long. We were blessed to spend a wonderful 11 hours with her. During that time, she made sure to let us know what a dainty little princess she was. That morning after getting in her beautiful blessing dress that Mom made from her wedding dress, a bracelet from her Grandma that she was wearing around her wrist began to fall off, but she caught it with two of her long fingers, saving her princess bracelet from falling to the ground. Later, we tried to move the sweet little lamb Paetyn was snuggling with so we could take other pictures. As we did, Paetyn tightened her grip on it and pulled it in to her. Of course, we couldn’t resist her request and let our little princess hold onto it a little longer. That evening after Daddy painted her fingernails, she picked up her hand off of Mommy’s and turned it to admire her nails. When being held by family members and told that they loved her, she would respond by raising her strong little neck and nodding her head, or giving one of her perfect little Paetyn squeals to show she agreed and loved us too. She even picked up her hand and waved to her cousins while Skyping them which was the most she moved at one time all day.

Paetyn truly is our little angel. We feel so blessed to be her parents and to have her as a part of our forever family. It hasn’t been an easy journey, but we sure love our Paetyn. We’re so grateful for the love she brought and shared with us for those 11 hours, and all she continues to bless us with. We love knowing our Paetyn “runs” with us daily.

As a way for us to share our story and updates with family, we started a website with our story, things we did to celebrate her life,  information about Paetyn’s condition, the miracles we saw, weekly blogs, and lots and lots of pictures. We would love to share more of the details of Paetyn’s journey with you. That website is www.paetynsjourney.com

Ella . . . Back with the Angels

This beautiful family has quite the story.  Their sweet angel baby Ella, who was only here for five and a half precious hours, has already been working miracles for her family.  I look forward to meeting them this year at the Running with Angels 5K on May 19th. Read their story below, in Nikki's words.

And thank you, Angel Watch, including Heather Walker and Jacque Burks, for taking such good care of these precious families!

"In December of 2015 while 18 weeks pregnant, we got devastating diagnosis of Trisomy 13. Our daughter Ella would be born with an extra 13th chromosome. Throughout the pregnancy, there were so many unknowns. There was a high possibility of still birth and if not, once she was born we didn't know how much time we would have with her once she was here.

On April 6th, 2016, we induced labor at 36 weeks. Ella was born and able to meet all the family. Grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles were there to greet her. She was a slice of heaven on earth. Her 2 older brothers (5 and 6 at the time) were able to hold and love her. They truly adore their little sister Ella.  

After 5 1/2 hours she went back to heaven. While we are heart broken, we feel blessed to have had the short time we did with our angel. We know she is still close, constantly sending us miracles. One of those came last October (2017) when we suddenly received a call that there was a baby being born that day and being placed for adoption and still needed a home. With a series of events we were able to adopt our 2nd daughter. We recognize the miracles we have experienced with each one of our kids. We have experienced the greatest joy and greatest heartbreak. We think of Ella daily and look forward to the day we reunite as a family."