Double-dutch
26 June 12
Elijah did not look like himself.
I’m afraid I may have startled the gentle police officer who needed me to positively identify my son’s body when I said I didn’t think it was him. And for a brief moment, I hoped that it was another woman’s baby. (Yours, perhaps? I’m so sorry — I’m ashamed of my weakness. I should be strong enough to bear this grief without wanting to place it onto your shoulders.)
Elijah wasn’t disfigured, he just wasn’t … alive.
His strawberry birthmark on the top of his head was gone. The tiny blood vessels were no longer holding blood, but if I looked closely, I could see a ghost of a trace of Elijah’s only blemish.
And then there were the three little blackheads on his right cheek. I had watched them develop and had refrained from squeezing them — a mammoth effort for someone like me who has the habit to pick at almost anything. That tiny constellation of dots confirmed my son’s identity.
That, and the two little teeth just poking through Elijah’s bottom gum. He had only worn those teeth for a day and managed to bite me twice with them. Each time, I screamed, and he screamed, and we comforted each other by letting him feed again at the nipple.
Elijah Rainbow.
Someone had dressed him a red shirt and jean shorts. Did they know that I like red, or was it just the top item of clothing on a pile of brand-new baby-wear bought specifically for dead children? Either way, the red shirt was extraordinary. I felt blessed by the Divine touch.
I held him, tried to sing to him, dressed him something I had brought and cuddled him close. I know it is no longer Elijah. I know the body is empty — the sutures from the autopsy were a constant reminder. But for a few short hours, I had my son again sitting on my lap, wrapped in my arms, holding my fingers and receiving my kisses.







This morning I woke with a holy word bouncing around in my head: God comforts us in all our tribulations, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble… with the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. In old-fashioned language, it reminds me that I am learning compassion and receiving comfort in this time of grief so that I may be able to comfort those who come across my path in the future.
I’ve realised now that my current journey isn’t a walk or a marathon. It’s a really hard, really fast, double-dutch skip-rope session.
One turn of the rope, and I have to jump over the procedure for burying a loved one.
Another fast swing, and the rope is coming at my feet again: the procedure for visiting someone in custody.
A third swing, and I’m addressing practical issues like transportation.
Then the rope comes down again and I have to jump over financial hurdles.
Again and again, the ropes are whizzing over my head and back around. I will learn to pick up my feet at the right time, I will learn to jump high, I will learn to dance to a different beat lest I fall and get whipped by the relentless ropes.
Relentless.
Today, I cried. Tomorrow I probably will, too. The day after, perhaps, the sky will stop raining and I will see the sun.
1 · Rebeca · 29 June 2012, 02:06
My heart continues to weep with you and I speak to the Father on your behalf, and on that of David and the girls. He will carry you through this dark valley.
One dark December night I drove to the hospital to be with a friend as she labored to give birth to her tiny, lifeless son. As I drove, the tears came and I thanked God that I too had lost a child. It did indeed put me in a place of being able to comfort her, not with the words we know to be true, but from a mother’s heart, a heart that knew that grief and has survived. I trust that God will give you beauty for these ashes in His time.
Sending you so much love at this time….
2 · Liz from America :) · 29 June 2012, 12:01
I can hardly comprehend this. And I cannot stop crying.
3 · Gemma · 29 June 2012, 14:07
We are all crying with you :’(
The sun came out today and it reminded me of you. I hope you can spend some time out in the sun today soaking up God’s love for you and your family.
4 · Bernadette · 29 June 2012, 16:24
Hi,
I haven’t prayed for a while but I will for strength for you and your family. I am truly sorry for your loss.
Bernadette
5 · Helen · 1 July 2012, 03:46
Wow. I enjoy reading blogs and especially your blog. Sadly, my dad passed away on June 24 and I have been so very busy and distraught. Today, Saturday 12:42 p.m. near St. Louis, Missouri, USA, I decided to read blogs and relax, get back to a degree of normalcy.
I just don’t know what to say. There are simply no words to describe what has happened. I thought my dad would live to 90. He died of an aortic aneurysm at 61.
You just never know when God will call you home.
6 · Traci · 2 July 2012, 11:46
Your pain is such that I have no words to offer or comfort to share but yet I feel the need to do just that.. so I’ll continue to cry out to a God who is good and who has this all in His control. Much love and prayers coming from across the world.
7 · Sarah · 2 July 2012, 13:54
Can’t stop crying for you and ur beautiful family. Love you
8 · Cris · 18 July 2012, 23:55
I am speechless. Your heroism. I have a little boy, my 4th baby, one month older than your precious boy and my heart pangs with hurt and pain for you. You are in my daily thoughts and prayers. I am soooo sorry for your loss! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
9 · holly c. · 19 July 2012, 00:06
Oh, Lauren-this breaks my heart! I can’t imagine your heartache.
Sending love to you and your family!
Holly
10 · Penny · 19 July 2012, 00:25
Oh my dear. I am weeping for your loss. Words can’t express how the hollow put in my stomach feels. I almost feel sick for what you are going through. The loss of your precious man child is precious to me too, even though I do not know you. Will be keeping you and the girls close in my prayers to Jesus. Jesus likes the colour red too!
11 · · 19 July 2012, 01:53
Je pleure avec toi.
une maman
Courage, force, amour, compassion
12 · Tanya · 19 July 2012, 12:00
these photos are truly, truly devastating… But I am so glad that you have them.
13 · Delcie · 19 July 2012, 17:18
I mourn with you and cry for your loss… I am grateful Carla could take photos for you… {{{hugs to you all}}}
14 · Kate · 20 July 2012, 11:47
My heart aches for you all in an indescribable way. Your life is a true inspiration, as is the way you choose to live it.
I only discovered your website recently, but find myself returning often to be inspired by your love, courage, wisdom and beautiful creativity.
Please know there are many people sending love, light and prayers to you all.
Kate x
15 · Helly · 20 July 2012, 19:18
Oh Lauren… as much as these photos devastate me, I am so glad you have them. Love.
16 · Jbee · 21 July 2012, 22:09
I came to your blog via a Facebook posting about Elijah’s birth. I have followed you since. My heart breaks for you. I weep for you. And I send love to you. Thank you for sharing your journey. Thank you for your honesty. Love. Love. Love.
17 · Hayley · 21 July 2012, 23:19
Darling baby boy, so loved, so wanted, during your short time on earth. Now watching over your mum and sisters from above for ever more.
18 · Pip · 29 July 2012, 21:59
I just keep coming back to this post and re-reading again and again. The finality strikes me so. The pictures are beautiful and real. I still just cannot believe it and my heart grieves for you so.
“The most loved baby boy in the world”
Love to you Lauren. xxx
19 · Karla · 31 July 2012, 05:37
This post fills me with such sadness and yet what beautiful last moments you were able to capture. Rest assured that your precious little boy will be waiting for you on the other side and you will see him again. Your pain is not something I know how to ease, but I weep for your loss and pray for your future. <3
20 · Lynne · 17 August 2012, 10:43
Oh Lauren. I’ve been going back through some of your older posts and came across this heartbreaking entry. It takes such courage to write this way, as open to the world as you can possibly be. I am in awe of you and you are constantly in my prayers. I also know what it is like to hold your utterly beloved dead child in your arms and kiss him goodbye for the last time. We live in Brisbane. If there is ever anything we can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.
21 · Jen · 17 August 2012, 11:27
I got to your blog via an old aussiehomeschool post about unschooling. I had read about your loss and prayed for you shortly after it happened. I didn’t cry until I saw these pics though. I don’t know what else to say. If you need any help with finances it would be a blessing to help you out.
22 · Lusi · 18 August 2012, 08:49
Dearest Lauren,
I had read this post before you put photos up and I was so sad then when I read it that I couldn’t even see through the tears to post a comment. I revisited the post today and saw the photos for the first time. I can’t stop weeping over the images of you cradling your special boy. I’m so so incredibly sorry for the loss of little Elijah. I know I’ve said it before but I really am. I can’t imagine your grief and loss Lauren but I continue to grieve with you and support you. Sending so much love from the mountain x
23 · Julie · 25 August 2012, 05:55
First off, I’m very, very sorry for your loss. I’m also so curious as to what made you photograph and post photos of such an intimate, private moment.
24 · Lauren Fisher · 25 August 2012, 07:05
Julie,
I have blogged intimate moments for almost six years. Although you may have just discovered my blog, it has been there as a family album for myself and my family to look through. I do not have the family albums of my childhood. They were lost because of a civil war and loss of fortunes. When I set out to start blogging our family’s adventures, I knew that putting them online would mean the pictures and stories would be accessible, no matter what happened to our fortunes. This is the story of our life, and Elijah’s death is part of that. My girls wanted to see pictures of Elijah when he was dead, and I, too, like to go back and remember those last cuddles.
Love,
Lauren.
25 · Julie · 26 August 2012, 22:19
Thank you for your response Lauren. I’m learning a lot from your blog. Your lifestyle and some of your choices truly push my comfort level, and honestly, I think that’s where true learning and growth comes from. For that, I’m really appreciative.
These images absolutely haunt me. I wish I never saw them. I feel guilty saying that because I know you wish that you never had to be in this situation – and I achingly wish you didn’t either. But I just don’t think this moment was meant for my eyes.
26 · Rosy · 28 August 2012, 16:23
Dear Lauren, I weep as I look through these photos. Yet, I can’t help but to think of the day when you will be able to hold your son once more in Heaven where there will be no more tears and no more sorrow. You and your family continue to be in my prayers everyday! Love and blessings.
27 · Amanda · 29 August 2012, 05:10
Lauren, I cannot even begin to imagine the pain you must feel after the loss of your son. I have cried through your posts about your struggles, but I also have found encouragement through your words. I pray that God will continue to walk with you through the times ahead and continue His ever loving comfort. I will continue to pray for your dear husband and children as well. Much love to you and yours!
28 · Donna · 29 August 2012, 09:31
Lauren I have only just now seen this post and my heart still aches for you. @Julie – I appreciate your honesty and hope that by Lauren’s response you know that the natural flow of this blog is all about being open and honest. Our society has taken death and made it something we are supposed to hide away. Death has far too big an impact to hide away and force the ones left behind to deal with on their own. Elijah has been a light to us all and will continue to be so. Hugs to all the Fisher family.
29 · Angela · 1 September 2012, 13:47
I wish I could be there to hold you. To wipe your tears and give you the strength of my arms to crumble into. I am praying for your family. Your son is beautiful. My heart may literally be in 100 pieces right now. I wish I had some wisdom filled answers but I don’t. You amaze me in so very many ways. I am so sorry for the loss of your son, your husband right now, and life as you knew it. Praying for you all. HUG.
Blessings,
Angela in America
30 · Erica · 3 September 2012, 11:58
I’m so sorry. My heart just broke into a million pieces to see you holding your sweet baby, Elijah. For a half a second, it almost felt as if it happened to me..for a half a second…..and that half a second was too much to bear. I’m touched that deeply because I have a baby boy his age and they look very much alike. I’m so sorry that you have to endure the devastating pain of letting go of your sweet boy so soon. I’m so sorry.
31 · Kim · 5 September 2012, 11:31
I just read this one. I’ve been following you off and on for a while now. I am so, so sorry for your loss. I knew about it, but these pictures…oh, it makes my heart ache (though I’m so glad you have them). I am so glad you’re able to find joy here and there, but oh…I’m so sorry. I love you and your boy and your family, and I’m sending so much love your way.
32 · Tenielle · 25 October 2012, 03:22
From one grieving mother to another, I thank you. Thank you for sharing your beautiful baby boy with us. Thank you for not being afraid to share these precious photos of your last cuddles with him. Thank you for, in a way, taking me back to those awful first days and weeks so I could once again grieve. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
My little guy died before birth, and have also shared photos of him, both in hospital and our last moments with him in the funeral parlour. I wish I could say I have had completely positive feedback, but alas I have not. There are those who want to take away these shards of joy, who think sharing our photos are distasteful. They don’t understand, and I truly hope they never really do. No-one deserves this pain.
33 · Nina · 12 November 2012, 16:30
Oh Lauren … I had read this post a while ago before you had posted the photos with it, and now that I’ve revisted it with the photos, I just instantly weeped. Such a precious moment with your beautiful beautiful Elijah. I wish that I could’ve met him. I am continuing to keep you in my thoughts and prayers. You continue to be an inspiration to me and so many others in so many ways. Thank you for your transparent spirit.
34 · Carolyn · 14 November 2012, 14:19
I, too only just came back to this post. And all I can say is Beautiful. Heartbreakingly beautiful xxxx
35 · Bec · 15 November 2012, 18:56
I think they’re beautiful photographs. X
36 · Miranda · 1 December 2012, 01:00
I stumbled upon your blog from a friend and began following your family just before your precious baby boy’s passing. Following your journey with an ocean between us I feel a sense of kinship. A connection from one mother to another. When my mother passed after a long battle with breast cancer. I wanted to get lost in consuming pain and loss. But my young daughter needed my comfort. In ministering to her I was able to push my grief aside and refocus on someone other than myself. The idea of decorating his coffin was so beautiful. Thank you for so candidly sharing your experiences with us and the beautiful photos of Elijah. I will continue to pray for your family and the continued strength you need to push forward with your lives.
37 · carolyn parker · 11 January 2013, 03:46
My heart breaks for you and your family. I can’t imagine the strength it must take….
I will keep you all in my thoughts and prayers, may gob bless you and smile down on your days and nights.
38 · christine · 24 January 2013, 05:52
I have never cried more after reading something alone. My heart is broken for both you and your husband. I will keep you in my prayers for I know they do wonders. Again…I just have no words.
39 · Gabbie · 30 January 2013, 15:10
Dear Lauren,
I only found your blog today after seeing an article on ninemsn.
These photos will be treasured. They are beautiful. I lost my daughter Billie before she was born nearly 8 years ago now. I have photos that I cannot display or share for the pain they cause others. But I treasure them because they are tangible, where she is not.
May God bless you and your family always.
My love,
Gabbie x
40 · Lorri · 31 January 2013, 17:57
I’m so sorry. I’m crying :-(
41 · Alene hewitt · 18 March 2013, 16:01
I am crying as I write this…. I am so very very sorry and devastated for your loss. You have experienced a nightmare come true. There are no words to describe such utter pain!! Your baby is beautiful and no longer suffering!
I do pray you continue to find comfort and hope in His Word! Your precious family is so beautiful!
…Jesus wept…
42 · Elizabeth Parker · 18 March 2013, 20:48
I just wanted to write a message to say how deeply upset a feel for ur loss of ur gorgeous boy Ejliah Rainbow. U are such a strong, amazing mother to ur girls, well done! My partner lost his daughter in similar circumstances back in 09’, she was 17 months old :( but ur baby boy is watching over u and his sisters forever more. Good luck with all that is to come, my partner just went through the trail for his daughter, hardest thing ever. But we are doing better now. Xo
43 · Claire · 7 April 2013, 13:09
I am so sorry. Your strength is incredible.
44 · Vicky · 30 May 2013, 17:06
So so sad…hope you can find peace… He is beautiful
45 · monica · 3 October 2013, 15:50
This hurts me so much. I can only imagine what you went through – what you still may be going through. Your precious baby is loved by complete strangers here. God bless you and comfort you.
46 · Margaret · 31 January 2014, 23:54
Dearest Lauren, I have just come across your blog. It is so heartbreaking to see these beautiful pics of you holding your precious son. Thank-you for the courage, wisdom and love you share by posting these pics and your story, it will give strength to many others who face similar heartbreak. Reading about Elijah has also made me want to be a better parent and to cherish my children more. I know your beautiful boy is in Heaven watching over you and the rest of his family. May God continue to comfort you and your family. Much love to you and your family from Sydney xoxoxoxoxo