One year ago today, June 15, 2016, our son Nathan Douglas Armstrong was born. He entered this world at 9:38 pm and lived for 19 minutes. He was quiet, he never cried. He was a tiny, fully formed, beautiful little boy. Kevin and I both held him and spent time with him for a few hours. We bathed him, dressed him, and with the help of the nurse took imprints of his tiny hands and feet. We were blessed to have our pastors and friends, Dave and James, come to the hospital and read scripture and pray with and for us. We are thankful for our family and friends who supported us that day, in person or from afar. The nursing staff at Riverside were amazing and loving, one of them, Nan, even asked to stay while James read scripture and prayed. She was so gentle with Nathan when he was born she gently laid him on my chest. And my physician, Dr. Stephanie Costa, is simply one of the best.

There really are no words, at least that I’ve found, that help make any sense of losing him and why such sad and tragic things happen in this world. It was an excruciatingly sad month from May 15th, the time we learned something was wrong with our little boy, to May 18th, when we learned he had Trisomy 18, to June 15th, when he was born. Every day was filled with questions, tears, and sadness.  And many since then continue to be the same. Everyone tells you that time lessens the pain, and that is true, but it doesn’t change what happened and the loss we have experienced.

We are thankful that my sister, Amy, offered her time and talents to capture Nathan’s short time with us. I’ve not shared these pictures with anyone before, and it has taken me a year to go back and write this post about his birth and death. And while these images are a difficult reminder of that day, they are also something I don’t ever want to forget. Being a visual person these pictures are something I hold very dear to my heart.
The hospital sent us home with a keepsake box that included everything from Nathan’s birth: the outfit we dressed him in, his hat and booties, his hospital cap, ID bracelets, his footprints and handprints, as well as footprint molds, the measuring tape used to see how long he was, a small blanket and his bassinet ID card. 

We received so many cards and notes of prayer and encouragement. Throughout this sad and confusing time we’ve been mightily blessed with a strong support network.  Mom and Dad gave us a flower arrangement for the Memorial Service that included one red rose for each of us: Kevin, Megan, Griffin, and Nathan, and one white rose to symbolize Nathan’s new life in heaven. It was a very thoughtful arrangement. From those roses, my friends from college, Jaime, Kim, and Amy, had a lovely necklace made using the petals from the roses. It is a lovely keepsake and something very special to me. 

We had a Memorial Service for Nathan on June 28th. Our friend Paul put together a beautiful and thoughtful service.  I really didn’t know where to begin in planning a service. Kevin spoke with Paul and we left everything in his hands. He coordinated the service with James, who gave a lovely sermon. He picked out a song by Third Day, Cry out to Jesus, and sang it as a solo during the service as he knows they are one of my favorite Christian bands. After the service we had a small reception at church with our family and friends. We are grateful for those who showed their support. 

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Rev. James Kessler’s sermon ~ “But Joy cometh in the morning” | June 28, 2015

“I will extol thee O LORD; for thou has lifted me up, and has not made my foes to rejoice over me. O LORD my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me. O LORD, thou has brought up my soul from the grave: thou hast kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit. Sing unto the LORD, O ye saints of his, and give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness. For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning”  (Psalms 30:1-5 KJV).

There are professors and poets, there are the silver-tongued editorialists of our day who can pile up for us reasons to grieve, or reasons to be of great joy. No one needs to tell us to grieve. But there is only one voice that can tell us to grieve with great joy. Nathan drew his last breath in this life o his mother’s chest, while holding Kevin’s hand. Today we grieve, we shout against that indignity. Oh Death. And we also shout despite ourselves, despite the pit in our stomach we shout for joy because something happened in that hospital room, at that moment, that echoed in eternity.

In the bedroom of the Armstrong’s first born child, big brother Griffin, there is a piece of stained glass blue as the sky. It rests on his window in a room themed for a young aviator. It was a piece of glass made by his grandfather. The purpose of stained glass is to focus and control light. Not to eliminate it, but to appreciate it. Stained glass produces beauty, it bathes us in light, but true stained glass is opaque – you cannot see through it. The circumstances of our suffering do the same. Suffering focuses life with great intensity, but also clouds the story into which we most long to look. How? Why?

Thankfully God has given us another story, one written upon that glass through which we cannot see. The story frames every pane. The story of Abraham, the childless one so many times over, falling to the ground beneath the stars. The stars represented the descendants God had just promised him: children of promise in his old age of his childlessness. The promise is for you, the good book says, and for your children after you. The promise to care for Abraham’s children was so absurd and beautiful that he called that unlikely child laughter. And we can see Israel, the teeming descendants of Abraham following and failing to follow their God, but God continues to rescue them because they are his little children, children of the Promise. And then there are those prophets, we see them crying out for an end to darkness and madness, drying out like a child for comfort. And we see comfort come in the Consolation of Israel born in a manger. We see the next pane Jesus himself welcoming ont only young children but infants. To them belongs the kingdom, he says. Do not keep the children from coming to me, says the commander of the starts to these little children of promise.

Jesus’ invitation to children was certain because it was written in blood. We see in another pane of glass the great price he paid so that the promise made on the first page of history can make it all the way to the last page. Jesus the only one to die with no one to receive him. He says on the cross to the repentant thief that there is not a second lost, not the faintest shadow passing between the last breath of those who belong to god and the next breath of eternal light It is Jesus on the cross who reminds us to look toward the resurrection. It is Jesus who died for the Promise. It is also Jesus who rose for the Promise, to open the way for those who belong to the promise. We have ever reason to believe that Monday June 15th at 9:38 pm the promise made to Kevin and Megan was kept. It is Jesus himself who tells us in our pain to look at the final image written upon the glass.

“And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. And there shall be no more curse: but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall serve him: And they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads. And there shall be no night there; and they need to candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever.” (Revelation 22:1-5 KJV).

The last pane is the unbroken body and the unrestrained joy of our dear Nathan Douglas Armstrong, lost to our day but found in Jesus for his good. The Scriptures end with an image of trees beside a river as deep and wide as God’s own mercy. The trees are fruitful. The scene is the new Eden, the new Earth. The scene tells us that nothing good is ever truly lost, that the glass through which we cannot see the reason for the providence of God will be one day removed in its entirety, and the only death will be the death of sorry. Here there are waters deep enough to swim, and food right and good to eat. Here there is a whole new world to enjoy and it awaits us at God’s appointed hour.

While the circumstances of our present suffering do not tell us when we will see these tears completely wiped away, they do tell us that in every thick grief, every color and every shade of grief possible, there is the outline of God’s great mercy to the children of his promise. Nathan born to two believers in God, belongs now to the promise of God. There is no more secure place to be. We have every reason to believe that Nathan, whose name means gift, has received a gift of his own: he is the first to see clearly the face that awaits us all.
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Though Griffin never met his brother, Nathan, we wanted to capture some photos of Griffin holding Nathan in the urn in which he would be buried. While he had no idea the significance of the urn he was holding, we are happy to have these pictures of him with it. 

Neither Kevin nor myself had never contemplated let alone discussed, purchasing cemetery plots. But we’ve now had that discussion and chosen the plots for all of us at the Dublin Cemetery in Historic Dublin. Nathan’s Interment was on a very rainy and gloomy Monday morning, June 29th. We were joined by family and close friends. Afterward the sun came out and we had family and friends back to our house for food and such. 

And then today. The one year anniversary of Nathan’s birth and death. Again, we’re so thankful to have such encouragement from friends and family. And we’re thankful for the gifts given to us in memory of this day.  We pray for Nathan every night, Griffin does most nights too. We’ve not really shared the whole story with Griffin as the advice we’ve been given is to answer any questions he has but not offer more than he can handle. So we just pray for Nathan up in heaven. Tonight, however, when we went to the cemetery, we told Griffin why we were there. That we were visiting his brother, who is up in heaven with God, Jesus, Hailey, and Cameron. And that one year ago today he went to be with Jesus.  He helped us lay down the white rose and a few rose petals. Kevin prayed for our family while we were all there together.  It was special.