Sharing Our Story
Our story of infertility, seven miscarriages, adoption and the death of our child. And finding God’s grace, mercy and faithfulness through it all.
SIDNEY:
Soon after we were married, we began to try to start our family. After about six months, I began to believe something wasn’t quite right, and after a year, we consulted with an infertility clinic. They recommended that we continue trying for another year. After the second year of trying, we began infertility treatments which lasted 12 cycles and 18 months. By the end of those 18 months, we had had six miscarriages and began to start adoption proceedings. I became pregnant one last time, without any intervention, and it seemed to be a perfect textbook pregnancy. We were thrilled to see our baby’s heart beating in the ultrasound and placed all our hopes and dreams of becoming parents with this child. However, I contracted a virus which caused me to have a miscarriage at eleven weeks.
The seventh miscarriage brought me to my knees. I was so angry with God for allowing this to happen. I am ashamed to admit I yelled at him, raised my fist to him, and vowed to turn away from him. But suddenly, despite my anger and threatened rejection of him, I saw Jesus standing beside me on the edge of a cliff, looking down upon a green fertile valley. I was going to jump. Jesus turned to me with tears streaming down his face, and I realized he was crying not because of my baby, but because of my pain. He said, “Whatever you decide to do I am with you. If you jump, I will jump with you. Or we can walk down into that green, fertile valley together.” My faith in him was restored at that moment and I knew, without a doubt, that he was with me and would fulfill my desire to become a mother.
My baby sister, Lucy, was also pregnant at the same time I was and her baby was due six weeks before mine. She asked me to be with her when she gave birth. While I knew it would be difficult for me, I wanted to be there for my sister. It was one of the most beautiful experiences I’ve ever had in my whole life. Watching my baby sister, (who I had asked God to send me when I was a child) give birth to her own child brought such happiness and joy. Once I got back to her house and opened the front door, I broke down. I fell flat on my face and began to cry out to God. “Please God, send our birth mother to us, and assure her that we are the right family for her child. That her child will be a child from our hearts if not our bodies.” Our daughter was born 24 hours short of nine months after my niece was born.
When our daughter was two years old, we applied to adopt a second child, once again getting on the roller coaster ride of praying, hoping, and waiting. After about three years without being chosen by a birth mother, and realizing we were aging out, we told our daughter we were thinking of stopping the adoption process. She said, “No, you waited six years for me, you have to wait that long for my baby brother or sister!” I told her we would wait until the end of the year, which would be 1998, as she would be six the following January. Our son, Arkon Gray Stewart, III was born October 28, 1998.
When we told our daughter we were going to pick up her baby brother from the hospital, she was so excited! She kept saying to herself, “This is the baby God has chosen for our family!” And indeed, Gray was the child God had chosen for our family. He was the child we needed, and we were the parents he would need. He spoke early, saying “mama” at only four months old, knew the alphabet and could count to 10 before he was one. He was reading at three years old, but kept it hidden from me because he liked for me to read to him. He was such a cheerful little boy, his favorite songs being, “If You’re Happy and You Know It” and “You Are My Sunshine.” When he was a toddler, he would come down the stairs in the morning puffy-eyed from sleep and say, “Good norning” with a huge smile. It didn’t matter if we were doing anything special or just walking through Walmart, he would often say, “This is the best day of my life!”
Gray was a beautiful child with a light creamy complexion, blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and a dimple right in the middle of his chin. He was always small for his age until he reached puberty. He was also very sweet and kind, thoughtful and generous. Because he was small and nonaggressive, he was bullied quite a bit. By the time he was ending the first semester of seventh grade, as I dropped him off one morning, I thought, “What is going to happen to him today?” At that moment I realized God had been prompting me to homeschool Gray and I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea. I knew it would be a huge sacrifice in my personal life, and yet I knew it was exactly what God wanted me to do and exactly what Gray needed.
Now that he is gone, I am so very thankful for those years, and the additional time we spent together. Our relationship became closer than ever. The school program we used allowed us to work four days a week and take Fridays off. We would go to yard sales and estate sales on Friday and then have lunch together. The people that ran the estate sales absolutely loved Gray and would put back the best knife available for his collection. We had many deep conversations about life, family, and the way God wants us to live. We also had very many lighthearted moments that will stay with me forever.
As he grew, we realized he had a love of speed. He didn’t want to walk anywhere – he wanted to run, and when he was introduced to wheels, it was full speed ahead! He had a big plastic dump truck that he would push up and down the hall at breakneck speed, and the same would happen with his tricycle, scooter, big green machine, bicycle, and eventually, his car. He once told me he loved feeling the wind in his hair. We warned him many times about driving too fast. A week or two before his death, I had another heart-to-heart with him about speeding. Gray always loved science and I reminded him about velocity and its effect on impact when combined with speed. I told him the likelihood of him being seriously injured in a high-speed crash increased with each mile he exceeded the speed limit. I told him, “I waited my whole life to be your mother, and I am not supposed to bury you, you are supposed to bury me.” We both had tears in our eyes.
On October 9, 2020, Gray left the house between three and four in the morning for an early morning drive. Gray, enjoying the feel of the wind in his hair, always drove with the windows down no matter what the weather except maybe if it was raining. When he wasn’t home by 5:00a.m. clock we weren’t too worried, but by the time 6:00a.m. clock came we began to worry a little bit, and by 7:00a.m. clock we were both worried and angry. Worried that something might’ve happened, and angry he wasn’t answering his phone calls or text messages. Arkon had already driven into work and as I was walking out to the mailbox at around 7:30 in the morning, two Charlotte police officers pulled up in front of the house. They asked me if I lived here and what my name was and if I knew Arkon Gray Stewart III. I said that I did, and we were very worried about him, where he was and was he okay. At this point, I was hoping they would tell me he had been arrested for excessive speeding. They wouldn’t answer my questions until we came into the house, and I was sitting at the kitchen table. It was then they told me Gray had apparently lost control of his car and crashed into a tree and died instantly.
While we waited for Arkon to get back home, I asked for more details. Gray was driving way too fast on a dark, unlit road when he came upon an unmarked curve. He overcorrected and lost control of the car. The car went off the road and hit a slight drainage ditch which caused it to flip onto its side, and the car continued sliding until the roof of the car hit a tree and completely wrapped itself around the tree. The police officers told us not to even look at the car it was so bad. Knowing that I could not look upon the sweet face of my son one last time was one of the most difficult things I had to accept. The funeral home made it possible for me to hold his hand so I could say my goodbyes.
For several days after Gray’s crash, the wreck kept playing in my head as if seeing it happen. This was very distressing for me as it happened many, many times throughout the day and repeated itself for days and days and days. Finally, I prayed to God. I told God I needed a new vision. I told him all I could see was Gray crashing into that tree and being crushed. It was a horrible vision I knew was from the enemy, and not from God. And immediately I had a new vision. Yes, I saw Gray in his car moving towards the tree, but now, my new vision was seeing Jesus wrap himself around my baby boy as he crashed into the tree and being taken immediately up into heaven. Every time those bad visions came into my head, I was able to switch into the one God gave me. Knowing that Jesus was with him in his last moments and believing that because of this Gray felt no fear and no pain, heals my mother’s heart.
As the days went by, and I was crying out to God, I said to him, “Father, you saw all the pain we experienced with our miscarriages, and yet you chose to give us Gray knowing you would take him before you would take us. Why did you give us Gray?” And God told me, “So he would know Jesus.” I told God I would be willing to go through everything again to ensure our children would be with him in heaven.
Two or three months after Gray’s death, I was finally able to get out of the house and run errands, not really thinking about Gray at the time, but out of the blue, God asked me, “When you dedicated Gray to me, did you mean it?” I had to think about that. Gray was the only grandchild who wore my father’s handmade Irish linen and French lace baptismal gown when we dedicated him to God. I thought about whether it was a true dedication, or just ceremonial. I said, “Yes, Lord, I meant it when we dedicated Gray and gave him back to you.” Then God said, “Now, give him back to me in death.”
I know that God gave us Gray so that Gray would know Jesus. We will see him again in heaven. He is with his seven brothers and sisters, and all those who have passed before us. Our grandparents, parents, and siblings. I also know that it is by God’s grace we have made it this far in our journey. I know he has given us a new purpose. He plans happiness and joy for the years we have left on this earth and, no matter any hardships we face, he will be with us. He will be suffering along with us and he will give us the faith and the strength to continue on until we are called up to heaven ourselves.
ARKON:
Once, I was awakened in the middle of the night, hearing noises downstairs. Upon investigation, I found Gray wandering around and I said, “Gray, it’s the middle of the night! What are you doing wandering around the house?” Gray’s reply, “I don’t know Daddy, I guess I’m nocturnal,” and he remained nocturnal for the rest of his life. Gray was a wonderfully quirky little guy who loved Thomas the Tank Engine and Legos. He would spend hours playing with his Thomas trains and tracks.
I love sports of all kinds and couldn’t wait to get Gray on the tee ball field. His sister was quite the ball player and Gray would come along for all of her games before he was old enough to play. I coached his tee ball team and will never forget the first practice. I had the kids line up in the infield and rolled the ball to each one for them to throw back to me at home plate. I started at third base and by the time I got to Gray at first base he was laying on the ground using the base as a pillow. In the back of my mind, I wondered if he was going to love sports as much as I did… or at all?
Gray stuck with tee ball and soccer for a few years. Early one spring I asked if he would like to skip playing that year. He was happy and relieved to put his sports days behind him. I told him we’d find something else to do together and we did! We found another dad and son at our church who loved hiking and camping. We soon had a small group of boys from church going on regular hiking, biking, whitewater and camping trips. While Gray was in his element, I was not. I love the outdoors, but sleeping on the cold, hard ground wasn’t my idea of fun. I am so glad I made all those trips. I saw things and had many wonderful experiences with Gray that I wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world. My takeaway from this experience: if we’re paying attention and listening to our children’s hearts and desires, often times while we’re pouring into them they are pouring even more into us.
Gray and I became avid target and sporting clay shooters, as well as knife collectors. I carry one knife exclusively now, the one I gave to him when he made honor roll. This was the knife he was carrying on the day he went to heaven.
Gray loved a meal, a BIG meal. Supper was always a special time for us to just sit and be together. Whether anything much was said, we just enjoyed being together. For months following his death, it was impossible for Sidney and I to eat at the kitchen table. The empty place at our table was unbearable.
One of my favorite memories is of Gray’s nightly “goodnight hugs.” At nearly 22 years old, he still came in to hug me and tell me he loved me almost every night. I always told him I loved him and was proud of him. I miss those hugs and words dearly, and can’t wait to hug him again in heaven.
Friday morning, October 9th, 2020. My life changed forever. I was crushed and have never cried so hard in my life. I told Sidney it was like Gray had been raptured. He was just there, then gone. The two police officers (what a hard job they have) were so kind and gentle when they came to our home to tell us what happened. During the weeks and months that followed, life felt surreal, like an out-of-body experience. I watched my life from a detached sense of self. Sidney and I didn’t isolate ourselves from others, but I would say we insulated ourselves. We shared our thoughts and grief with each other often. On the days when I was weak she was a bit stronger. And on the days she was weak, I was able to carry her.
We prayed for God’s comfort and peace, knowing that many others were praying for us, too. I wish I could say that because of those prayers I felt warm and strong but I didn’t. I felt weak, numb and hopeless but I did not stop seeking God and asking why. I had just enough faith to continue to go to the Lord. I suppose that was how those prayers were being answered.
We had a beautiful memorial at which Sidney shared our story. The music was perfect and there were many sweet photos of Gray on the screen before the service began. This was during Covid and it was odd seeing everyone seated spaced apart and wearing masks, but we are so thankful for everyone who came to support us, including family from out of town. We are thankful that Gray’s birth mother and her family were able to attend. They had also been present for his baby dedication when we gave him back to God.
We donated Gray’s tools to York Technical College, where he studied automotive mechanics, and were given a chance to speak to the class about driving reckless and speeding.
I was so disappointed with God after Gray died. I prayed every morning (and still do) for God to put a hedge of protection around my family, each one of us, and bring us all home safely at the end of the day. In God’s mercy and grace, He reminded me of this scripture from Isaiah 57:1 “The righteous perish, and no one ponders it in his heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be protected from evil days ahead.” God did in fact protect Gray, but not in the way I prayed for. He did it in a much better way: His way.
The scripture we chose for Gray’s memorial plaque is Romans 8:38-39. “I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below — indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to
separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
But what about today? How do we survive with this giant hole in our hearts? Is it possible to not only live, but to live well again? Life is now a paradox. We are able to laugh and find joy again, all the while the memory of Gray is right here with us. It never ever leaves us. But it isn’t sad all the time. Every thing and every day going forward is seen through a different lens, a whole new perspective. This lens is colored with more empathy, compassion, love and patience. I see and seek Jesus like never before. Our heavenly father understands us. He understands our grief and pain. After all, His son died for us.
