A Gift of Time

Getting to say hello to our miracle girl.

Alva Norene Bunn came into the world at 10:15pm on Tuesday, July 23, with the sweetest little cry. It was as though she was announcing to us all that she was alive! She’d beat the 50/50 odds she was given to survive delivery.

She was put on my chest right away, and all the fear I’d had surrounding meeting her and seeing her “broken” was gone. She was our daughter, and we couldn’t be more in love. 

Garret and I immediately started talking to her—telling her about our family, her brothers, and how happy we were to get to tell her hello. One of the first things I said to her, knowing she could leave us at any moment, was that we would love her forever. As soon as I said it, she SMILED at me! Her whole little body lit up. It felt like a miracle. (And I wasn’t imagining it; there were multiple eyewitnesses and a nurse even caught it on video!)

I told our nurse to get my mom, who’d been waiting outside the delivery room, hoping to meet Alva while she was still alive. She was at our bedside a second later. We sang “Happy Birthday” and continued to tell Alva about our family and how loved she was. The nurse listened to her heart and was surprised by how strong it was! A whole hour went by with her on my chest. She was so present with us. She’d turn her head to listen when daddy or I spoke. We got to hear so many little noises—her sweet way of chiming in. 

When the clock struck midnight and she was still with us, snuggling on my chest, it felt like a victory. She didn’t die on her birthday.

She stayed with us for another two hours, giving us four hours in total. Our miracle girl. She was comfortable and peaceful the whole time. We got to read her some of our favorite books from her brothers’ babyhood: You’re Here for a Reason and Love You Forever. We also got to read over her from her Bible. 

When it was time for her to go, it caught us all by surprise. She slipped away so softly in daddy’s arms. As hard as we cried when the doctor confirmed she was gone, we still can’t think of a better way for a little girl to go: directly from her earthly father’s arms to her heavenly Father’s. 

So many prayers were answered the night Alva was born. From the day we got her diagnosis, our biggest worry was that she would suffer. So much so that I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t sometimes questioned whether we were making the right choice. We’d met with all the specialists, been given crash courses in all the medicine that would ensure her a comfortable life, but still. We worried. 

We wanted her to know only love and peace before going home to heaven, and that prayer was answered. Praise God. 

Part of the love Alva experienced while she was with us was thanks to another answered prayer: a phenomenal care team. We worried along the way that Alva’s diagnosis might affect the treatment she would get upon delivery. On the other side of her birth, it feels ridiculous that we ever were concerned about it. I know we have limited experience, but we’ve never seen a newborn as adored as Alva. Our nurses and midwives kept telling her how special she was, and that she would always hold a place in their hearts. From the moment we arrived onsite for induction, our midwives told us our MFM specialists and genetic counselor (who were at a separate site) were eagerly checking in for updates. Everyone wanted to hear news of the little girl who’d stolen so many hearts in such a short amount of time. 

And then there was all the family who came to see Alva. All her grandparents, auntie and great auntie, and even her uncle from Georgia. And of course her brothers, who were so excited to meet her with the rest of the family the next morning. Even though Arlen had questions, they were not afraid that she looked different or that her soul was already in heaven by the time they got to see her. Jonah kept saying “Baby” and “Alva,” which he’d learned to say a few weeks earlier, and wanting to hug her. Arlen was excited to show her a book of pressed flowers we’ve been making for her…the boys had been picking her so many that I figured we’d better do something with them! A few YouTube videos and craft store run later, Arlen and I were well on our way to filling a whole binder. I don’t think any baby girl has received more flowers than Alva.

The boys got to take her outside with us on a lovely trail behind the hospital where, with our midwives’ permission, they picked daisies for her. They got to open gifts from Baby Alva. They got to read with her, as they’d been doing for weeks and weeks when she was in mommy’s tummy. They even cooperated and stamped their footprints next to Alva’s on a piece of paper. One of our midwives, who had lost a child of her own years ago, suggested we do this. Now we’ll always have something tangible to remind us of the time we had all three of our kids in our arms. 

The boys were also so excited to give Alva “Bluey,” a sweet blue teddy bear they’d gotten her at Build-a-Bear a couple weeks prior. We made Bluey the same day we told them that Alva would likely go home to heaven instead of coming home with us. They wanted to give her a stuffie to take with her. 

It was so special to have Auntie Jules at the hospital on July 24 to meet Alva and take so many beautiful photos of her with our family. Just over two weeks since Alva was born, the whole experience can already feel surreal to us, so we can’t overstate how much it means to have these special moments of our family captured. (THANK YOU, JULES!!!) I’ll share some favorites below…these photos tell the story of our moments together better than words ever could. 

A toast for Alva. Beautiful idea (and drinks!) were courtesy of my wonderful cousin Claire.

Back in March, we were told we wouldn’t be bringing our baby home with us. If that’s really the case, I thought, I want them to go soon, and quickly.

The greatest fear was always that our baby would suffer, but I also selfishly wanted the worst—losing him or her—to be behind us. 

I won’t sugarcoat it: This is the hardest thing we’ve ever walked through. But now in August, two weeks after our baby has gone to heaven, I have nothing but gratitude for the 38 weeks in utero and four hours out that we were given. Had this journey ended back in March, we would not have been spared the sorrow we feel. But we would have missed out on so many precious things. 

Learning we have a daughter.

Reading stories and scripture over her. 

Dedicating her to the Lord. 

Taking her on so many walks and runs. 

Seeing our boys talk to her, pick her flowers, and plaster stickers all over my belly for her. 

Hearing her sweet cry.

Holding her in our arms.

Seeing her smile. 

Letting loved ones meet and hold her. 

And seeing the joy our boys had in getting to meet her face-to-face in the hospital. That they could just be big brothers for those moments, running to meet their little sister and give her her bear, is a gift our family will cherish forever.