July Guest WRiter:
Chante Day Velez

We've gathered 12 guest writers to add HOPE to your inbox in 2021! We're honored to have Chante Day Velez as our featured writer this month.

When Hope Sometimes Hurts

“Hope is the confident expectation of what God has promised and its strength is in His faithfulness.” -Unknown

I will never forget hearing those four words for the first time: “He’s incompatible for life.” Those words shattered a dream that I have had since I can remember, a dream that I had envisioned since I was a little girl. Those four words not only took me by more than surprise, but they also took the very breath from my lungs. I laid on an examination table in the office of the Maternal Fetal Specialists for two hours as the doctor examined my son via ultrasound. I knew something was wrong, but I was hopeful that in the end, everything would be fine. I knew something was wrong, but I was hopeful that whatever the cause for concern was, that it could be corrected. I never once gave any thought that this could be anything remotely close to life threatening. I never once gave any thought to the idea that whatever the cause for concern was would absolutely result in death, the death of my son, Kellan.

My reflection of that moment is so distorted, but yet I somehow can remember every minute detail of the events and conversation that followed shortly after receiving this gut-wrenching news. I remember that as I walked out of the ultrasound room into the hallway, how small it felt; how the coldness of it chilled my bones. I remember feeling as though the walls were closing in around me. I remember feeling like I wanted to scream, but not physically having the strength and ability to do so. I walked down that hallway, with my sister not too far behind, only to walk into another examination room. I had just taken a seat upon yet another examination bed right before the doctor came in to discuss what my options were. I remember how the paper on the bed felt and how it sounded so much different. I remember it looking so much whiter than the norm. I remember my mind flooding with so many different thoughts at one time, and the never-ending number of questions that I wanted so desperately to ask, but simply just could not. I remember very much being within a different place, mentally, but yet I am still able to recall every word that flowed from the doctor’s mouth next. I remember him checking to make sure that there was not any leakage of amniotic fluid due to the fact that my son no longer had any, and I remember him confirming that there was not any. It was right at this moment that everything changed for me.

 As I sat up on that bed, it was explained to me that I could abort medically, and it was also stressed to me that it would be the most logical and loving thing to do. Before I had the ability to stop myself, my mouth opened, and I began to finally speak. “I do not support abortions, of any form. It goes against who I am and what I believe”, I said in almost a whisper. That was the first time that I had spoken a single word since being told that my son, who was very much still alive, who I had just seen on a big computer screen in the ultrasound room moving and kicking about, was incompatible for life. What that same doctor would say to me next lit a fire within me that no one in that office, or the offices surrounding it, had the ability to extinguish. “Your decision and beliefs are selfish and inhumane”, he said.

Most people that I have told this story to have said that their response would not have been one as graceful as the one that I gave, but I made the decision right there in that moment to respond with passion. Not the love or passion of a mother who just received devastating news, no, instead I gave a response with passion that was bigger than that doctor and all the years of practice and knowledge that he had very much acquired. My response to him was clear and to the point, and it left him completely speechless, for a brief moment. I sat up straight, and with tears in my eyes confidently told him, “I know that not everyone believes in God, but I do. I also know that everyone who does believe in Him does not necessarily always trust in Him in the way that He tells us to when faced with life's trials, but I will. My faith is not in science or medicine. My trust or my faith will not be placed within the skills and knowledge that you have respectfully obtained throughout your years of practice. My hope is not within the recommendation from that of a man. My trust is in God, my hope is in God, and my faith is in God. Whatever is meant to happen according to His plan will come to pass, regardless of what the outcome may or may not be. If it is not within God’s plan for my son to ever take a single breath, I have no choice other than to accept that and trust in His purpose and process. I will not make the decision as to how and when my son’s life will come to an end because it is simply not my, nor your, decision to make. God placed my child here for a reason, even if it were only for this very moment. Science and medicine are great, and both play such a vital part in saving lives every day, but I will choose to place my faith in the creator of it all. When God decides that it is time for my son to come home, He will call him. As long as he has a heartbeat, he is alive, and as long as he is alive, he will stay right where God has placed him for the time, regardless of how long or short the length that He has placed him there for.” 

The doctor sat speechless for a moment before proceeding to tell me that my son would more than likely pass away in utero no later than 28 weeks gestation as I got up to leave; I was 20 weeks pregnant at the time. I remember praying quietly as I walked out of that doctor’s office with my sister. I remember making it to the car only to let everything that I had been holding back during the four hours I sat in that doctor’s office out. I cried and cried and cried. I prayed fervently, but within my prayer of pleading, I completely surrendered Kellan to God. I told Him that whatever His will was, I accepted it right there in that moment, because I know that He loves me so much and would never purposefully hurt me. I knew that if it was within His will for Kellan to return to Him, that there was a greater purpose behind it and an even greater reasoning behind my suffering.

Eight weeks flew by, and Kellan’s heart was still beating strong. His movements did decrease because he did not have any amniotic fluid due to the fact that he never developed kidneys, or so I had been told at the first appointment with the Maternal Fetal Specialist. I returned back to MFS during my 29th week for an amniocentesis. I met with a different doctor this time. When he put the ultrasound probe upon my stomach and really began examining Kellan, he suddenly had a look of confusion and shock upon his face. “Who told you that your son did not have kidneys?”, he asked. 

Confused as to why he was asking, I told him that the doctor that I met upon my initial visit stated that my son did not have kidneys during my first ultrasound at their office. “This is so weird, because here they are right here, both of them,” he said as he used the mouse attached to the computer to draw circles around both a right, and a left kidney. I looked over at my mom, who was fighting back tears at this point, and smiled the biggest smile as I fought back tears myself.

I closed my eyes and silently prayed a prayer of gratitude. I knew exactly what was taking place within my womb, and I knew exactly what God was proving. A week later, I had to go see my regular OB, who I absolutely love and adore. She continued to see me every week throughout my pregnancy to ensure that mentally, I was ok. She would measure my belly and listen to Kellan’s heartbeat, too, even though she could not treat him due to the complications and abnormalities that were evidently present. At that appointment, she walked in and gave me a hug as she always did, “Hello my sweet friend,” she said as she sat down to check and review any new notes from my appointment with MFS. I will never forget the look on her face when she saw what the doctor who performed the amnio had concluded within his notes. “They think that he’s going to live? They think that he is going to live!”, she exclaimed as she looked up from her computer at me. 

She asked me if they had discussed this change in status with me prior to our appointment. I explained to her that I had absolutely no idea of the news. She hugged me again, tighter. “I’m so happy for you. This is amazing. This is God!”, she said. We hugged, cried, and rejoiced for the reminder of the appointment. Before I left, she told me to go and start getting things ready to bring him home. I was so excited. I cried the entire drive home. I did not have my cell phone, so I rushed to get home as fast as I could. I barely had the car in park before turning the engine off and jumping out of it. I literally ran inside to grab my phone and began to call everyone. “He’s going to make it; he’s going to make it! My baby is coming home!”

As the weeks passed by, my family helped me to get everything ready and there was so much that still needed to be done. My mom and stepdad painted his nursery for me. I set up his crib and washed the fresh new sheets that were purchased before putting them on his crib mattress. I placed his boppie inside of his crib with a monkey that my three-year-old niece had given to him, that she insisted that he have. I washed and folded his clothes and put them away in the drawers inside of his dresser. I began stocking up on diapers and wipes and bought bottles galore. I felt as though I was more than ready to bring Kellan home, at least as ready as I could be in the short amount of time that I had remaining in the pregnancy.

Eventually, we made it to gestation week 36, almost ten weeks past the 28-week gestation mark that was initially given to us. I had my usual weekly check-up appointment with the MFS on Friday, June 21, 2013 at 2:00pm. I felt the overwhelming desire to have both my mom and sister present at this appointment. As I was getting ready for my appointment, I made a joke about doing my makeup to my mom and sister, “Let me put on my face in case they induce me today”, I said; I just knew that it was going to happen, I felt it in my spirit.

Once at the doctor’s office, I was walked back into the ultrasound room to perform a test to make sure that Kellan was still responsive. Unbeknownst to us at the time, He failed miserably. While the ultrasound  tech was getting her scans, my mom asked her if she by chance saw any lung tissue. “Sure, I do”, she said as she pointed it out to us for both a right and left lung. I looked at my mom again, the same way that I did when we were told that Kellan indeed did have kidneys. I smiled from ear to ear because this was big. I had been told over the course of my pregnancy that Kellan would never develop lungs or lung tissue, so the fact that it was there meant so very much. The tech told us that she was going to go talk to the doctor about everything and that they would be back shortly. This was not unusual for these types of visits, so I did not feel the need to be concerned. It was not long before the tech came back, this time with the doctor in tow. My tears of joy did not last for very long and soon became tears of sorrow. It was then that I was told that Kellan was beginning to pass away, and that if I wanted any chance of meeting him before he did, I needed to be sent over to the hospital immediately.

We left that doctor’s office in tears. I eventually made my way over to the hospital and was induced at 9:00pm on Friday, June 21, 2013. I was told to prepare for an entire weekend in labor and delivery due to the fact that I more than likely would not deliver until Sunday night or Monday morning. But, on Saturday, June 22, 2013 at 8:15am, I delivered the most beautiful little boy that I had ever seen. As the nurse passed him up into my arms, my mom brushed his cheek and he smiled a smile for both the first, and the last time. Soon after he was placed in my arms and up against my chest, God whispered Kellan’s name and took him home.

 The magnitude of my loss was indeed great, and truthfully speaking, I only survived by clinging to the hope of God’s unwavering promises. Although I could not yet see the purpose behind my loss, I trusted God, entirely for His purpose within it. When grief overcame me and my loss became too much to bear, I trusted God completely, that He would bring me through it. My heart was shattered, but I clung to God’s Word and His promise to never leave me, nor forsake me. I knew that as long as I continued to place my hope in Him that my strength would be renewed.

 But what about when we have hope that sometimes hurts? What about when we are in the pit of our grief and cannot see enough light to have hope to cling onto? If ever you were to find yourself in the dark place where grief and mourning can sometimes take us, I want you to remember this quote that I found in an article titled “When Hope Hurts, Here’s What You Need to Do” on www.beautifulbetween.com. The quote says: “We’ve heard hope is an anchor for the soul, sure and steadfast. Still, an anchor can’t stop a storm. It won’t erase the ache or stop the waves. Instead, it keeps us from being driven along and dashed against the rocks.” Place your hope in God. He is our anchor, and waters tremble at the sight of Him.”

As Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, He told God of His petition, but there was something that Jesus desired more: He wanted God’s will to come to pass, despite the suffering that came along with it. I truly cannot think of any better example that displays the power of God and what happens when we surrender everything over to Him and His will. I can’t speak for everyone, but I know that for me, this has significantly helped to reduce the sting within my loss.

I want you to remember that it is within our patience while standing in that “waiting room” that God is able to prepare us for the answers that we are hoping, in Him, to receive. Sometimes, hope hurts, but most times, if hope is placed in the right place, oh how it heals.

God’s waiting for you, and He hopes that you will begin to hope in Him once again. 

“Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.” Romans 12:12

You can connect with Chante and Kellan’s Hope on Facebook, or through her blog at GirlfriendsCoffeeandJesus.com.