Friday night, May 3rd.

Jon and I got home from work, and I was laying in our bed trying to think of ways to get the baby off my sciatic nerve.

Heating, ice packs, and Tylenol had become my best friends. However, that night none of them seemed to be helping.

I finally dozed off and woke up around 9:40 pm. Jon was sitting next to me on the bed studying for the MCAT.

I remember we were laughing about something. I don't remember what.

All of a sudden I felt what seemed like a waterfall coming out of me.

I didn't know what it was at first, and I started to panic.

Jon called the Utah Valley hospital immediately while we ran out to the car and explained my water broke and we were on our way there.

"We're supposed to deliver at Primary Children's, we can make it!" I kept saying, my teeth wouldn't stop chattering

"Otherwise he won't be ok, we have to deliver there right?"
(Read the story about the birth defects here)

Jon just kept telling me to stay calm and everything would work out.

I remember looking down at my stomach and being so freaked out because it wasn't big and tight anymore.

Is he in there??

I couldn't tell.

We drove up to the hospital doors around 9:45 P.M.

There was a team of nurses waiting at the doors with a wheelchair

I was shaking as they wheeled me past many people that were staring, and all I could think about was how I felt so small.

"K hunny I need you to focus, how far apart are your contractions?" One of the nurses asked me multiple times as I was rushed through hallways

"What contractions?!" I replied.

I felt nothing.

It freaked me out.

Suddenly I was in a room laying on a bed and I couldn't stop shaking. I was starting to get light headed.

All I could do was pray.

I was having IV's shoved into me and none of them seemed to stay.

All the nurses were in a hurry talking to each other but I wasn't listening, I was too worried about my boy.

I did pick out that the nurse with the stethescope was trying to find my babies heart beat.

"I'm not hearing his, I'm only getting her heart beat" I heard the nurse say to another one. I think she thought I couldn't hear her.

I heard the words, "Possible HLHS" "esophageal atresia" "supposed to deliver at Primary Children's" "30 weeks" "need an immediate C section"

Jon kept telling me to take deep breathes, I guess I stopped breathing without even realizing it.

Finally a male nurse took an ultrasound, found the heart beat, and explained that they were going to take me to another room.

The babies heart beat was dropping fast and they needed to get him out now.

I remember having my bed brought to another room within seconds, told to slide onto the table, and having painful things shoved all sorts of places.

Within a minute of getting on the table I had a mask being held over my face while a nurse with short blonde hair and a worried look on her face told me everything was gonna be ok, I needed to try to stop shaking and relax.

It was a feeling I'd never really felt before. Knowing I was laying on a table and they were going to cut me open in a matter of seconds.

Yet, all I cared about was whether he'd be ok.

I remember the last thing I thought about before they put me out: "Where's my husband.. I want to see him"

Everything went blank.

I had no idea of any time that was passing.

I remember waking up and feeling like the light in the room was as bright as the sun.

I was unable to focus.

The pain.

It was tormenting.

All I remember was hearing myself moan and feeling hot tears run down my face for the first time that night.

My son.

Was he ok?

Where's Jon.

My stomach.

This can't be normal.

3 nurses were taking my bed to another room and explaining that I was going to get hooked to a morphine pump any minute.

They stopped my bed in a room. Suddenly Jon had my hand and was standing by my bed.

The chaos stopped.

He was speaking to me, but as soon as I tried to reply the pain I thought couldn't get any worse managed to.

"Don't speak sweetie just rest the morphine pump will get here any minute"

"Tell me about him" I managed to whisper through the torture

He explained that he is doing good and how cute he was etc.

I was pretty out of it so I don't remember most of it

Jon later said I asked the nurse for the morphine pump over 25 times

I'm sure the nurse understood:)

I vaguely remember them finally wheeling my bed over close to where my son was laying so I could see him before he got life flighted to Primary Children's.

He was pink. That was a good sign.

He had his back to me.

Jon took this just minutes after he was born, came out 3 pounds:) He said he was squirming around and when Jon grabbed his hand the baby held onto his finger.

I wanted so badly to reach out and touch him but it was too painful.

I was still a little out of it. But I smiled and looked up at Jon,

"He's perfect."

Jon had tears coming out of his eyes

"What's wrong?" I was worried

He was helping the nurses pull my bed through some halls

"Nothing don't worry about me, we're gonna get you to a room Madds, and you can start to a lot feel better ok?"

We finally got to a room, they hooked me up to a morphine pump and I stayed there for 2 days and then asked to get discharged early, even though I had not recovered fully.

The doctor that delivered my baby came to see me a few times during the course of those 2 days.

The first day in the hospital the morphine took a toll on me..

I was always drowsy and it was so hard to focus!

All I remember about the first time the doctor came was that her voice was really soothing to listen to.

However, by day 2 (Sunday May 5th) they took the morphine pump away and put me on pain meds, so even though it hurt a lot more, I was a lot more alert and able to focus.

The doctor came to see me and I was able to hear the story in more detail.

She said the time between when Jon called the hospital because my water had broke, and when they finished delivering the baby was 18 minutes.

The time between when she got the call at her house and when she delivered the baby was 9 minutes.

The time it took to deliver the baby after they put me out was less than a minute.

"We literally just had to rip you open and get him out."

Rip. That word just makes me queasy.

"Because we didn't have much time, we had no time to prep you for it, so I was worried about infection but you look like your healing just fine. Also we wanted you to be able to see your son before he was flown to Primary Children's. "

That explains why I'm stapled together..

It was then I realized that even though I went through a lot pain, the whole experience had to be pretty difficult for Jon. Having them whisk your wife into a room and rip her open, and then take your son away so he can be life flighted, all the while wondering who will be ok.

"I want to get you out of here so you can get to Primary Children's as soon as possible and you can see that sweet boy."

"Thank you. That's all I've wanted since the beginning."

"If things continue to go ok you should be able to leave tomorrow."

I was so relieved.

They had told us our baby was doing ok, and that he did not have HLHS. They said he was scheduled for his stomach surgery that Sunday afternoon.

However Sunday he took a turn for the worse and was unable to get surgery.

It's hard to do any type of surgery on a 30 week old baby.

Later that night, Jon went up there because a team of surgeons wanted to meet with at least one of us and I was in no condition to go.

Jon came back with bad news. There were a lot of complications.

It was heartbreaking.

Jon recorded the hour long discussion with the surgeons, so that I could listen to it.

The heart condition was not HLHS, but it would require the same type of surgeries, including being on a waiting list for a heart surgery at a young age. He also may not even qualify to receive the surgeries because he's only 3 pounds. He had a Pneumothorax (hole in the lung) that morning, and also had low PH levels. Because of that he was unstable for a stomach surgery, which he desperately needed so he could start to gain some weight. On top of that his head was swollen, and the risk of surgery was too high for a premature baby.

Basically they told him that our baby's time was coming to an end, there was not a lot they could do at this point.

Jon had remained strong until they brought up that he needed to tell me so that we could make a decision of how aggressive we wanted to be with this.

"How do you tell your wife that?" Jon said through his tears.

"We understand that no matter how much sense it makes to let your son go and relieve him from the pain, a bond between a mother and her baby is one none of us can comprehend. We are so sorry you have to tell her this."

I knew something was wrong as soon as Jon stepped into the hospital room. I have only recently seen what my husband looks like after he's been crying.

I shed a lot of tears that night.

Where was the miracle?

I'm 21 years old. I got pregnant on birth control. And you're telling me I will have to bury my first born child, who I haven't even met yet? Why me?

After a few minutes, I felt an extra dose of strength.

Literally, as if someone was taking the pain on for me.

Someone is making this easier than it should be..

I was able to strengthen my husband that night. I think half his battle was breaking the news to me, and once I was strengthened it helped him.

I wanted to leave that night but the nurse said no way.

Jon gave me a blessing. I needed peace of mind. Otherwise there was no way I was gonna make it another night stuck in hospital bed while my son suffered just an hour away, and while his time here got shorter and shorter.

After the blessing I felt calm.

I knew the Lord was aware of my circumstance.

One thing I couldn't get out of my head:

"There is purpose in all things."

"Prove you believe in things which are only hoped for, but not seen."

Purpose. Hope.

There was a reason my son was born this way. I didn't know what the reason was yet.

I was able to leave the next morning even though I could barely walk.

We took this pic right before leaving the hospital. We hadn't gotten any pics of when I was in there so we figured we should take one. Usually it'd be hard to smile during those times, but my husband gives me a lot of reasons to.

We got up to primary children's and I was able to touch my son for the first time.

There are few things as heart breaking as seeing your tiny child hooked up to machines.

I was nervous, because Jon had said when he came to meet with the surgeons that the nurse told him that he only responds to pain, other then that he doesn't do anything.

Am I too late? Was there nothing left in him?

However, when we got there, I held back my tears and stayed strong enough to talk to him.

His head was swollen so he was unable to open his eyes, but at the sound of my voice he moved his tiny head around.

He grabbed my finger.

We both spent time talking to him and holding his little hand.

I ached to be able to hold him.

I could feel how pure his spirit was. How near perfect he was, though he was born into an imperfect body.

The thought of leaving him was overwhelming, but my medicine was starting to kick in and I started feeling really light headed.

Jon said, "The nurses said he'll be ok, we'll come back first thing tomorrow."

We went home and I fell asleep. After a few hours we got a call from Primary Children's.

He had had another Pneumothorax on his left lung this time, just an hour or so after we left.

They wanted us to come down there immediately.

Jon and I both feared the worst.

We realized we may have to say goodbye to our son that night.

We chocked back tears while we called our families and told them to meet us there.

Jon and I arrived first, and they had opened his bed so we had full access to him and didn't have to reach through tiny doors in order to access him.

Because of this, we were able to see him in better light.

I started talking to him, and he opened his little eyes!

The nurse couldn't believe it.

He hadn't opened his eyes since the first few minutes after he was delivered, before they put him on the machines.

He had blue eyes like his dad. And cute blonde hair. He had my nose and my asian eyes I've had since birth. He is the most perfect and precious boy I've ever laid my eyes on.

He opened them a lot bigger, but I was too excited that he was looking at me that I forgot about the camera.

Jon and my dad and father in law getting ready to give him a priesthood blessing

I would have done anything at that point to hold him and take away the pain he was enduring.

His cute daddy

I wish I had more pics of when both our families were there. The spirit in the room was so strong, as if angels themselves were present.

The spirit testified of the plan of salvation and that this pure spirit was given an imperfect body for a reason.

The nurses had stabilized him again, and we were relieved that we would not have to decide to end his pain that night. We would get to be with him tomorrow.

Our families gave our son a final kiss goodbye, and Jon and I stayed a few minutes longer.

We decided to name him Jon Gabriel Bowen.

The meaning of the name Jon is "God has Given" or "God's gift"

The meaning of Gabriel is "God is my strength"

Sleep was difficult that night. All I saw when I closed my eyes was his face.

The next day, they took him into a private room where we got to spend all day holding him.

He opened his eyes a lot more, he watched me as I told him he was the most loved boy in the whole world, and I told him everything that we would do together when I got to see him again.

It was hard not to cry.

But I didn't want him to hear sadness.

The more I held him, the more I thought

I don't know if I'm going to be able to do this

But I had to be brave.

Jon Gabriel was slowly starting to go as the day progressed, and it would have been pure selfishness to have the doctors do everything they could to keep him here, just so he could suffer longer.

God is my strength..

I was reminded.

We talked to him for hours. We cried. We held him as close as we could while he was on the machines.

His heartbeat started to drop before we even had the nurse take him off the machines.

Jon and I both knew it was time.

But it didn't make it any easier.

It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

They took him off, and I let the tears fall freely onto his tiny little body while I held him close.

It's amazing how much power came from just a tiny little body.

I could feel how pure his spirit was, and for a minute I felt almost inadequate to be his mother.

He came to receive a body. And was needed back in heaven.

I know with all my heart he was not meant to stay here.

My sister Annie sent me this quote the next day. It's by Elder Bowen who had recently lost a 3 year old son:

"I was reminded of the teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, who taught this comforting doctrine: The Lord takes many away in infancy, that they may escape the envy of man, and the sorrows and evils of this present world; they were too pure, too lovely, to live on earth; therefore, if rightly considered, instead of mourning we have reason to rejoice as they are delivered from evil, and we shall soon have them again."

Jon Gabriel's purpose for coming to earth was to bring souls closer to Christ.

He did that in his short time here.

And the miracle?

The miracle is the prayers and the fasts that have strengthened us and our families during this trial.

The days when I thought to myself, "This should be more difficult. I should be struggling much more than I am." Yet I could literally feel strengthened from something unseen.

The miracle is the fact that after he passed, my husband and I have been able to be productive, find things to laugh about, and feel my son's sweet presence during the really hard moments.

The miracle is that while experiences like this sometimes cause couples to turn to anger and find blame, this has only made me love my husband more than ever before.

The miracle is that even though he's not with me, I will be able to see him and be with him again, because of one that died long ago so we wouldn't have to say goodbye forever.

The miracle is that our family now has a sweet little angel watching over us.

Our hearts are still hurting, but it helps to know my son fulfilled his purpose here on this earth.

Sometimes I wonder if he misses me as much as I miss him.

Jon says without a doubt.

At first, I didn't feel like a real mother.

Getting put in a hospital room, pumping milk my son would never use, and hearing babies in the other rooms cry, while I felt helpless knowing mine was hours away hooked up to machines.

But maybe the fact that it was nothing but the sound of my voice that caused him to open his eyes and look calmer than any other time..

Or the fact that I laid on a hospital bed, with no worry of how the surgery would affect me, but only whether or not my son would be ok..

Maybe that's what it means to be a mother.

May we all take time this Sunday to honor those who have sacrificed so much to give us life.

For those who have been praying, sending emails and texts, and have brought gifts and dinners, how needed that is and how grateful we are!

Every message and gift has been and still is deeply appreciated.

I felt so uplifted by so many of your kind words, and cannot thank you enough.

Jon Gabriel Bowen is not gone forever, his spirit it still very much felt.

My hope and prayer is that his story will push people to act.

Anyone that hears my story, and is wondering what they can do, there is one thing.

Turn to the Lord, and ask him to strengthen us during this difficult time, and I know that as you do, he will give you strength as well.

Let my son's short life be a reason for each of us to be a little bit better every day, so that we can return and live with those we love once again.