I delivered a still little Adyn Michael. The doctor drugged me well and so I slept through the labor. My parents came out and sat with Chris for most of the day, but left before his body arrived.
I didn't have an elective abortion. Because well-meaning people encouraged its consideration, and some assumed that was our course of action, I feel the need to make that statement. We were prepared to care for our son until God saw fit for his life here to end. God chose the day Adyn stopped kicking in my womb.
The environment and the deformity ended my son's life early. Yesterday, six years ago, the doctor in Kalamazoo told us he had passed and sent us back to St. Joseph, to the doctors familiar to us.
The induction was scheduled for Saturday, November 13, 2004. Eleven hours after the doctor started the medicine, Adyn was laid in my arms by a cautious doctor almost pleading with me to avoid the pain his appearance might cause. But I held him, wrapped in a blanket, I held him and loved him, and then handed his body to a nurse.
This song played on the radio near the time of his death. I still listen to it and I wonder. . .
I feel the need to stop for just a moment and say that this doctor was a kind and gentle grandfatherly sort of doctor. He cared about our loss. He wanted to spare us unnecessary pain. Though I talk of strong pain medicine and his concern for our seeing Adyn, I would be remiss if I didn't say that of all the doctors in the clinic, he was the best one we could have had in at this moment.