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Her Song Was Silenced |
She held him for a few moments after his birth, tracing his cute little ears, hands, and nose with her fingers. "Both Landon and I knew," Karen remembers, "that we would have to say goodbye before we had ever had a chance to say hello. Our hopes and dreams were shattered." Karen Ritchey was seven months pregnant with their first child when she went for her regular prenatal checkup. Her doctor had advised another ultrasound just to make sure everything was happening as it should. |
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"The doctor's face looked concerned," recalls Karen, "as he glided his scanner across my abdomen trying to get the best picture possible. He pointed out a beating heart and various limbs, a cute little face, but he had trouble getting a clear picture." "Your amniotic fluid seems very low," the doctor explained. "You'll need to go to Vancouver [British Columbia] for more tests." Karen and her husband lived in the Northwest Territories, some 2,000 miles away, and within an hour they were on an airplane en route to a larger, better-equipped medical center. "We weren't sure if we should be alarmed or not," recollects Karen, "since all the doctor had said was 'You'll remain in Vancouver until the baby is born.'" But after four days of tests and questions, the seven months of hoping and dreaming of giving birth to a healthy baby were gone. "Our baby's kidneys had failed to develop properly," Karen explained later, "and the doctor said our child would not be able to live outside my womb. |
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| Why I Sing by Karen Ritchey For as long as I can remember, I have loved music. As a child I would sing a hymn or two, record it on a little tape recorder, then harmonize with myself. As the years went by I continued to sing in church, at camp meetings, weddings, and funerals. It was a joy to see the way music could stir people's hearts. In 1988 our first child, Kyle, was stillborn. The song in my heart was silenced. I could not hear a melody, let alone any harmony. I found it hard to sing, because music touched a place in my emotions that was still very tender. As my heart began to heal, I found that particular songs were soothing to my heart, bringing me gentle comfort. Songs of hope helped me to find joy again, as did the subsequent births of our other children. If you or someone dear to you has walked through a dark valley and felt sadness, grief, or pain, then ... I pray that the compilation of songs chosen for this recording will bring you comfort, hope, and finally peace, as they have done for me. The title of this project reflects the promise I carry in my heart--I'll Meet You in the Morning. |
"Love turned to heartache when our little son did not survive the 11-hour labour," she recalls. "Those moments with him will be forever etched in our memory. A baby, so precious, so similar to his daddy in looks, all the cute features that every new mommy dreams of, and yet he lacked the only thing that made it possible for us to keep him--life." Tears and sobs came to the couple, for they knew that after holding him, loving him, and looking at his still little body, they would have to release him. "I'll never forget the helpless feeling in my heart," Karen remembers, "as I watched the doctor take my baby boy away." Landon returned to the Northwest Territories a few days before Karen, and was met at the airport by the pastor of the Alliance church, |
who had waited a half day at the airport just to make sure he wouldn't miss the opportunity to show his love and care. When Karen returned, so far from family and longtime friends, she craved the companionship of others who would assure her they would share in her sorrow. Part of the pain that lingered for months and years was the pain of loneliness. "I know that people claim that at times of loss they don't know what to do or say," wrote this bereaved young mother, "and often that is used as an excuse for doing nothing. Until Jesus comes again and makes all things right, there will continue to be devastating losses of every kind, whether it be death, a custody decision, a divorce, or whatever type of separation that takes our loved ones from us." Karen explains how, at times like these, she believes that we need each other more than at any other time. She knows that their experience has enabled her to reach out to others who have lost infants and other loved ones. She prays that even one person will feel able to help someone who is hurting after reading her story. Her challenge is to inspire others to lessen the burden of those who hurt so that this church can be accurately called "the caring church." Nine Years Later Karen knew there would still be many days that would bring tears and sadness. But she prayed, "If through this experience our lives can become fit for heaven, where our family will be truly complete, we thank You, Lord.... We cling to the promise of seeing our firstborn son, Kyle, again when he can be with us and his siblings forever." Karen and Landon could have attempted to forget. They could have tried to bury their sorrow with work, family, and active church and social life. They could have become bitter in their loneliness. But they did not and have chosen, instead, to keep the memory of their loss ever before them, as difficult as that may be, so they can share comfort with others. A Dedication to Baby Kyle "So," Karen continues, "I decided to attempt to make the journey a little easier and more hopeful for others." On the tenth anniversary of the loss of their stillborn son, Karen released a recording entitled I'll Meet You in the Morning! dedicated to the memory of Baby Kyle and to others who have lost their babies and children. She says that she has found "that heartache shared is healing begun." Karen and Landon have shared this recording of songs with dozens of parents who have experienced a similar loss. She writes a letter and sends her recording complimentary--as funds permit. "I vowed never to let anyone else face that kind of pain alone," says Karen. She chose each song because it gives peace and comfort to people who have lost someone or who are low in spirit or who might even be depressed. Three of the titles included in the recording are "Hidden Valleys," "Where the Roses Never Fade," and "Thank God for the Promise of Springtime." |
| Three Ways That May Help Someone You Know Minimize the Feelings of Hopelessness by Karen Ritchey
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Many of the parents with whom she is in contact continue to keep in touch. She calls it a "unique privilege of sharing in the private pain of many families." They ask her how to cope when they have empty arms on Mother's Day, birthdays, due dates. "I try to encourage them to make a memory," Karen says, "to do something meaningful in their child's memory, to try to make the date a positive experience. My music is a way that I can reach families of any denomination, because we all want to have hope and peace, and we all wish to be reunited someday with our loved ones. "I've been writing to moms that I've never met for 10 years," she admits. "You just have a common bond, and they appreciate a stranger reaching out. They express how the songs were just what |
they needed at that time.... I praise God for leading me to those who have been comforted by this music." The result has been a lot of communication with grieving parents around the world and a lot of satisfaction on Karen's part. "My mom cashed her retirement savings to help pay for this recording," Karen says. "She was as committed as we were to sharing hope with others who have experienced a pain similar to ours. I've dedicated my music to bringing comfort, hope, and peace to those who know the sadness and confusion of loss. A lot of seniors have told me they find these songs inspiring and comforting as well." A front-page story recently appeared in The Okanagan Saturday, a newspaper in Kelowna, British Columbia (where the Ritchey's now live), describing Karen's ministry. "one Kelowna mother's anguish has turned into a personal crusade to comfort grieving families the world over," reporter Jim Judd wrote. "Her unsolicited comfort touches the hearts of virtually everyone she reaches out to." "My life has been forever changed by our experience," testifies Karen. "There is more tenderness toward those who grieve, more empathy, more understanding, and a strength that could only come from being in the valley myself." Then she adds, "Our children--Kayla, age 6; Adam, age 4½; and Garrison, age 3--are eager to meet their brother in heaven. They want to teach him how to ride a bike." Myrna Tetz is managing editor of the Adventist Review. |