Fran C. Hafen - Joy Cometh in the Morning: A Story of Healing from the Loss of a Child

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hafen, Fran C.

Joy cometh in the morning : a story of healing from the loss of a child /

Fran C. Hafen.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN-10 1-59038-708-2 (pbk.)

ISBN-13 978-1-59038-708-5 (pbk.)

1. Infants (Newborn)DeathReligious aspectsChurch of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints. 2. BereavementReligious aspectsChurch of Jesus

Christ of Latter-day Saints. 3. Consolation. 4. Hafen, Fran C. I. Title.

BX8643.D4H34 2007

248.866dc22 2006030964

Printed in the United States of America

Edwards Brothers Incorporated, Ann Arbor, MI

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For all who are called upon to part with those they cherish, especially when those loved ones are children

Acknowledgments

I appreciate the invaluable contributions from others, especially those who have allowed me to share their stories and feelings and those who have given specific and meaningful feedback in earlier versions of the manuscript: Wendy W. Peterson, Audrey A. Richards, Monique S. Innis, Sarah H. dEvegnee, Pat C. Higbee, Alta Batterman, and Bruce C. and Marie K. Hafen. I appreciate my parents, Ronald J. and Harriet W. Clark, for their tireless efforts to help me research and understand the gospel.

Likewise, I am thankful to the staff of Deseret Book, including Suzanne Brady, Chris Schoebinger, Mary Ann Jones, Michelle Wright, Laurie Cook, and Sheryl Smith. Their valuable suggestions, hard work, and beautiful designs have furthered this project and have helped to make the writing of this book a rewarding process.

Ultimately, I am eternally grateful for the encouraging and supportive heart of my husband, Dave, for without him and our wonderful children, I could not appreciate the greatest joys in this life and in the life to come.

Chapter 1

Looking Back, Looking Forward

The warmth of the sunshine was surprising, despite the early spring season. The deep blues of the water provided a dazzling contrast to the white snow and the dark evergreens on the mountains encircling us. We were alone on the lake, finally free from the everyday distractions and demands of homework, piano lessons, and soccer games. Our oversized canoe was filled to capacity with our growing family. My husband, Dave, and I were like bookends, safeguarding our seven children crouched between us. Our care to ensure an equal distribution of weight and basic paddling instruction were rewarded as the complaints of dripping water from the oars abated and our vessel began moving effortlessly across the water. After several successful minutes of rowing, we approached the middle of the reservoir, stopping long enough to take in the beauty of our surroundings. Our son and six daughters were silhouetted by the setting sun that illuminated the tops of their heads. A strong sense of appreciation mixed with responsibility enveloped us, and Dave and I gave each other a knowing look: These are Heavenly Fathers children, He loves them even more than we do, and He wants them to return safely Home.

Letting this moment sink in, I realized that my last canoe ride had taken place thirteen years before. Dave and I had been the only passengers that day, and the calm waters had reflected nothing of the storm raging inside me. At the time, only a year had passed since we had lost our first son, Devin, and I was struggling to acknowledge the wonders of Gods creations. I had little hope of being delivered from my world of suffering and its accompanying emotions.

Looking back to my own first, tender encounters with grieving, I now could appreciate the meaning of opposition in all things (2 Nephi 2:11; see also vv. 2223). What had started out as sheer torture gradually softened, and little by little Dave and I were able to look forward to the future again. Through the passage of time and divine assistance, I had learned to enjoy life again rather than simply endure it. I had come to realize that I could love others and I could love myself without feeling guilty toward Devin. Not only that, I truly could be happy, I could laugh at myself, and I could have fun againas represented now by an exciting canoe ride with those on earth I love the most.

Furthermore, I now recognized that my fervent prayers had been answered. My doubts had been replaced with a strengthened testimony and a deepened resolve to rely on the Savior and the doctrines of the Restoration. Devins life and death truly had been not only our most defining and refining experience but also a witness of how the Atonement had been manifested in our lives. Indeed, heaven had been transformed from a vague concept to a profound reality as we sought healing from the Savior and subsequently comprehended that weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning (Psalm 30:5).

Part 1

The Story of Our Loss

Chapter 2

Where Can I Turn for Peace?

Only weeks had passed since Dave and I had learned the cause of our unborn childs enlarged heart. After a lengthy ultrasound, a pediatric cardiologist made a sketch of the human heart to illustrate how our baby had developed two heart defects and how this rare combination might prevent our baby from living through the pregnancy or surviving the delivery. This report was absolutely devastating to us, especially after years of infertility testing and medication and particularly because we had sensed this pregnancy meant we had passed the trial of our faith. In a matter of minutes, the anticipation of becoming parents was washed away in a tide of disbelief, sorrow, confusion, and angeran array of emotions that we had never known existed with such intensityall at the same time. I fluctuated between trying to be strong and feeling sorry for myself, and I grieved whenever I noticed other pregnant women, especially my sister-in-law, whose expected delivery date coincided with mine. Though I appreciated her warm friendship and her extra efforts to be sensitive to me, I couldnt help comparing our pregnancies and harboring feelings of resentment.

Possibly the worst part of our situation was that Dave and I werent sure what to pray for, because in our hearts we wanted our child to be healthy and strongto be normal. And, because we often couldnt distinguish between our desires and the promptings of the Holy Ghost, we usually just prayed that we would be able to handle whatever we were given.

Desperate for peace and solace, I sought reassurance from any source I could find. But frequent ultrasounds from the medical world only confirmed that our sons condition was worsening, making his two options for survival a risky surgical shunt or a costly heart transplant.

Work and nighttime classes likewise became a temporary escape for me, but during the weekends I found it hard to remain upbeat. Sunday was often the hardest day of the week because the harsh reality of our situation surfaced again. Through most of our church meetings I acted as if everything were fine, even while feeling so terrible inside.