Loss and grief are universal. Through Henry’s death we have met people everywhere who have their own stories of loss, love, faith, and hope. I am encouraged by those stories and they have brought me much comfort on our journey. This story comes from Brian Rushe, a friend of mine from elementary and middle school.

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What truly happens at the stroke of midnight? Fairytales,  storytellers, and Disney aficionados would tell you that’s when the stagecoach turns back into a pumpkin, the gallant horses back to mice and for one endearing scullery maid, back to her tattered dress and back to a life where she is shown very little in the way of love.  Yet she is hopeful.

On any normal night for most, they are tucked away in a deep slumber dreaming what people dream; for a life they can be proud of; a fruitful and productive existence for the children they have raised to be upstanding individuals; and a happy home free of struggle and strife. Unfortunately life is not always a fairytale. Kissing the frog doesn’t necessarily turn him into a prince and  maybe…just maybe the glass slipper doesn’t fit.

Seven years ago my young family was struck with an unimaginably difficult situation. We were expecting our 2nd child. A second son as a matter of fact. We couldn’t be happier. Our first, Patrick, was growing into a bright young boy, finding his way as a first born. We knew without a doubt a new brother would have an everlasting effect on his childhood and on our lives. They would become fast friends, best buds, confidants. Of course they would disagree and argue and do what brothers naturally do, but this…this new addition to our family would be life changing.  Little did we know that the man upstairs had a different plan.

It was a challenging pregnancy to say the least. Frequent visits to the doctor for a variety of complications led to an untimely delivery at 22 weeks. Far too early for anything short of a miracle for him to breathe on his own or be admitted to the NICU for even the slightest chance for survival. He didn’t have a name other than baby Rushe for nearly six hours. We honestly didn’t know what to do, how to handle such a devastating situation. We comforted each other as best as we could but nothing in life ever prepares you for a moment such as this. We named him Christopher. Looking back, I can’t really tell you why. There was no profound reason other than the name simply felt right. We later recalled that St. Christopher was considered by many to be a beacon of hope and a patron for travelers. Medallions with St. Christopher’s name and image are commonly worn as pendants, especially by travelers, to show devotion and as a request for his blessing. In French, a widespread phrase for such medals is “Regarde St Christophe et va-t-en rassuré” “Look at St Christopher and go on reassured.” We thought nothing more of it at the time. We took solace that God had a plan but struggled deeply to understand what on Earth that plan could possibly be. Since then every November 15th we visit Christopher and wish him the happiest of birthdays and to this day he is a part of our nightly prayers with our children. The hurt may fade over time but it never really goes away. You simply try to learn what you can from the situation and cope.

Seven years have passed since that day. Patrick is growing up to be a compassionate and caring young man and we have been blessed with Caroline whose zest for life is simply unquenchable. We are nothing short of blessed to have these two in our lives.  They are our center, our pillars and we do our best by them despite what challenges we face as a family.

As we approached the coming of our 3rd child we could not have been more excited. Another girl was on the horizon.  Her expected due date was 11/28. Based on our history neither my wife nor I expected her to go to full term. We scheduled inducement for the 21st but at this point really anything could happen. In the back of my mind I couldn’t help but think “what if she arrives on the 15th?” How will we handle the significance of this day moving forward? How could we diminish or replace the tragedy of that day seven years ago with the joy of the birth of our third child? How is that fair or just? I couldn’t answer these questions in the wee hours of that morning and as I ponder them today, I don’t know that I ever truly will be able to do so. I simply need to trust that God has a plan and that His plan on November 15th, 2017, was that our 3rd child would be brought into this world……eight minutes after the stroke of midnight, the same day that tragedy struck our family not all that long ago.

So what truly happens at the stroke of midnight?  I have to believe that in our case God has delivered to us a Princess. Contrary to the fable, she will be shown unconditional love by her sister, know the meaning of compassion from her Prince of a brother and as a family we will all look to Christopher and go on reassured. Reassured that this all is in His plan.