Jesse Caleb Richardson
Jesse Caleb Richardson was a surprise. Right from the beginning he did things differently than other people. His parents had hoped for a child for over 13 years. Extended family members began to plead with Heavenly Father to bless Amy and Richard with a child. Last summer Mom and Dad were surprised to learn that their first effort at in vitro fertilization had been effective—they were expecting a baby. It was in the midst of uncertainty and stress over leaving a career and moving their household from far off Singapore to an undefined location in Utah--circumstances the doctor warned would make it very difficult to sustain a pregnancy.
They settled in this stake, close to family members who were excited to have them near. Amy faithfully took the medications necessary to sustain the pregnancy and located a physician who would take her on as a patient. When she was six weeks along she visited her obstetrician. After examining her, he regretfully advised her that there was no baby’s heartbeat. Disappointed, that evening she and Rich came to Amy’s father to receive a Priesthood blessing. They were assured that Amy was pregnant. Amy returned to the obstetrician the next day to be checked again. After examination the doctor emphatically affirmed that here was no heartbeat, and that all indications were consistent with a 5-week termination. Was there was no hope, no chance? Of course, they could always hope, though he was certain the pregnancy had ended. They made an appointment to return a week later for a final verification. Amy continued to take the hormones necessary to sustain the pregnancy. We fasted and prayed. She postponed the appointment a couple of extra days and waited until she felt it was the right time to return. When they performed the ultra sound, the doctor and his nurse were astounded to hear baby’s healthy heartbeat. It was only the beginning of surprising developments.
Around twenty-three weeks into the pregnancy Amy began to feel sick and in pain, especially at night. Several nights she visited the emergency room in American Fork. In the early morning of December 13, they suddenly realized that she had preeclampsia (toxemia), and that both she and her baby were dying. The only possible helpwould be to deliver the baby immediately. To give the baby the best chance for survival, Amy asked to be transferred to Utah Valley Hospital, where the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit was prepared to help.
Rich and Amy recount the unanimous gasp of the doctor and several attendants, when they opened her up expecting to find a 24 week old fetus but, instead, saw a baby boy the size of a 20 week-old. Though doubtful that he was big enough for the tubes needed to help him breathe to slide down his throat, they were surprised that they went down with no trouble. He was only as heavy as a can of soda—12 oz; and he was hardly longer than a dollar bill.
Mom and Dad were cautioned that they should not expect the little one to live—that babies very seldom survive unless they are at least 22 weeks along—and this one was only the size of a 20 wk-old. The medical staff began what became a heroic effort to support a boy determined to hold on to life.
The parents sought the Lord’s will in a Priesthood blessing. They were told that their baby was in the Lord’s hands, and that what should happen, would happen; he would live; his care would be inspired; his family should exercise their faith and enjoy him. So they did.
They prayerfully and aptly named the baby JESSE, which means ”God’s Gift”, or “The Lord Exists”; and CALEB, a Biblical soldier and leader known for his fearlessness in the face of overwhelming odds.
On his ninth day of life, the hospital staff told Mom and Dad that Jesse was failing quickly and not expected to make it. "There's no time left for miracles today" the doctor said. They placed him in his mother’s arms so she could hold him as he died. Surprisingly, in moments he began to improve. Quickly they took him back, replaced him in his bed, and tried to recreate the position which had given him relief.
Weekly, and sometimes, daily, Jesse was administered to in order assist his heart, his intestines, his lungs, his blood vessels, his bones, his kidneys, his brain.
Eventually he was transferred to Primary Children’s Hospital for a successful intestinal surgery. But shortly Jesse began to succumb to a persistent buildup of fluid around his lungs. Struggling for weeks to keep him alive, the doctors declared that Jesse’s only chance was to undergo a desperate, dangerous surgery that was not certain to correct the problem. They scheduled for Monday, Memorial Day. The Thursday before, the family united in fasting. On Sunday night the Priesthood blessing Jesse received said that he would not need the surgery. Monday morning the surgeon was surprised to see that Jesse had improved dramatically. The doctor said that he would not need the surgery and that he could be transferred back to Utah Valley Hospital.
Amid the crises, Jesse had some normal family life. Santa Clause came to visit him on Christmas Eve. Dad and Mom and Jesse had their first Family Home Evening, reading the Christmas Story from Luke, quietly singing Christmas carols. Jess received his first two books for his library—two beautiful versions of “The Night Before Christmas.” Rich taped a picture of his dog Chiaro to the lid of his isolette, along with flashcards, and a tiny mobile made of little angels. Toys were propped on the hospital equipment, and new blankets made by his aunts and cousins frequently appeared on his bed. A birthday party was thrown for him every month. He even had his own stereo system quietly playing beautiful lullabies through speakers in his bed. His nurses and doctors loved him and cared for him like his family. His parents were there every day, talking to him and singing to him. His relatives, friends, home teacher, and Bishop came to see him, and to give him blessings.
But by June, Jesse needed those administrations almost every day. On June 9 he was dying, filled like a little balloon with air that had escaped his lungs and fluid that would not stay in his vessels. His grandma and grandpa, his aunts and uncles, and some of his cousins came to the hospital to say goodbye to him. In a beautiful, eloquent, humble prayer, his father expressed our great gratitude for having Jesse in our lives; that we knew that the Lord could cause a miracle and that Jesse could be made well and whole, even at this last moment; but if it were Heavenly Father’s will to take Jesse back to heaven, we could only thank him for the wonderful experience it had been to have Jesse with us and to learn what he had taught us. The rest of the family said goodbye and left Amy and Rich to be alone with Jesse. Less than an hour later, Grandpa returned to be near if needed. He saw flabbergasted doctors and nurses buzzing around the baby’s bed, looking at Jesse. Almost all of the extra fluid had leaked out of a small needle prick in Jesse’s side, and the air had just disappeared. “Where did the air go?!” one doctor exclaimed. Jesse’s eyes were open and he was looking all around. They moved him into a private room, and handed him to his mother to hold. For four hours Jesse lay awake in his mother’s arms and they gazed at each other. A few minutes after midnight on June 10, his mom’s birthday, Jesse fell peacefully asleep.
The hospital staff quickly put together a surprise party for Amy’s birthday, which was certainly one of the happiest days of her life.
This phenomenal pattern of events repeated itself a couple of more times over the following week. Death retreated again, giving Rich a very happy Father’s Day. The staff nicknamed Jesse “The Comeback Kid.” I heard one of the nurses say to Dr. Minton, “You ought to write a book about this.” He thought for a second and snorted, “No one would believe this! They would think it was a work of fiction.” After a moment he added, “But if I did, I would call it A TESTIMONIAL TO THE RESILIENCE OF MAN.” He paused and added, “AND HIS PARENTS.”
Jesse’s last few days were relatively quiet and crisis-free. Mom and Dad were able to have long sessions holding Jesse, who loved to be held. When he passed, it was unexpected and happened very quickly. Because his parents could not get there in time, his doctor and nurses, his other family, compassionately held him as he slipped away.
The doctors and nurses made it possible for his parents to carry Jesse outside to sit in the sunshine by the fountain in the hospital’s beautiful garden, alone with him for the first time. Many people who had cared for Jesse came to the hospital to offer their kind condolences. Their caring and kindness will never be forgotten.
So what is the value of a life that never left a small bed in a hospital room; never uttered a sound; cost a fortune; and over which immeasurable tears have been shed?
Simply stated, Jesse changed people, irrevocably. Brigham Young said that if we could understand how anxious the Spirits are, waiting to come to earth and get on with their progression, we would be eager to bring them to our homes; they are so anxious they are glad to come to the most disadvantaged circumstances. Because of revealed doctrine and inspired utterances in Priesthood blessings, we know that Jesse came gladly to this frail body. He stayed with it, deliberately. He held on and gave the Spirit time to work its mission in many hearts.
Because of his willingness to endure prolonged suffering, he gave us a chance to learn how faith and hope work together. Richard said that while Heavenly Father reassured us over and over again that our faith was sufficient to bring miracles to pass for Jesse, He, nevertheless, gently helped us see that His purpose was to take Jesse back. I add that He constantly reminded us of the promise that Jesse will be given back to be raised by his parents to his full stature in the resurrection.
Jess reminded me that we are all born helpless into the world, and live today, only because of the devoted care of others.
He inspired us to live purer lives, so as to have greater power to bless him, because we loved him.
His innocent suffering reminded us what it means to be pure, childlike; it made us want to be brave, sweet, kind, grateful, meek, patient, enduring.
Amy summed up the blessedness of loving Jesse. She was holding his body at the funeral home and had just laid him down. Weeping, she said, “It was so painful when he was living; but it is so much harder to have him gone!”
I put my arms around her and said, earnestly, “So many of us would lift this burden from you if we could.”
“I wouldn’t wish this on anyone!” she exclaimed. But after a short pause, she added, “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything!”
Bonnie Willford, a receptionist at Utah Valley Medical Center, sent the following writing to Amy and Rich. It was written by Emily Pert Kingsley, and is called “Welcome to Holland.”
WELCOME TO HOLLAND
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous
vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make
wonderful plans. The Coliseum, Michelangelo's David, The Gondolas
in Venice. You may learn some hand phrases in Italian.
It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives.
You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later the plane lands.
The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"HOLLAND? What do you mean, Holland?
I signed up for Italy. I am supposed to be in Italy.
All of my life, I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there has been a change in the flight plan.
They've landed in Holland, and there you must stay.
The important thing is they haven't taken you to a horrible,
disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine, and disease.
It's just a different place. So you must go out and buy new
guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will
meet a whole new group of people you would never have
otherwise met. It's a different place. It's slower paced than Italy.
Less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while,
and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice
that Holland has windmills. Tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy.
They're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there.
And for the rest of your life, you will say,
"Yes, that's were I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
Maybe the pain of that will never go away, because the loss of that dream
is a significant loss. But if you spend your life in mourning the fact
that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to
enjoy the very special, the very lovely things of Holland.
Rich added, “Amy and I have been touched by the many people we have met who have also been to Holland. We love Holland. It's a beautiful place. Very close to heaven, I suppose...”
I believe that I knew Jesse in the Pre-existence. But I have forgotten it. I am so looking forward to meeting him again in the resurrection, putting my arms around him, and thanking him for the wonderful gift he has been to us.
Jesse Caleb Richardson was a surprise. Right from the beginning he did things differently than other people. His parents had hoped for a child for over 13 years. Extended family members began to plead with Heavenly Father to bless Amy and Richard with a child. Last summer Mom and Dad were surprised to learn that their first effort at in vitro fertilization had been effective—they were expecting a baby. It was in the midst of uncertainty and stress over leaving a career and moving their household from far off Singapore to an undefined location in Utah--circumstances the doctor warned would make it very difficult to sustain a pregnancy.
They settled in this stake, close to family members who were excited to have them near. Amy faithfully took the medications necessary to sustain the pregnancy and located a physician who would take her on as a patient. When she was six weeks along she visited her obstetrician. After examining her, he regretfully advised her that there was no baby’s heartbeat. Disappointed, that evening she and Rich came to Amy’s father to receive a Priesthood blessing. They were assured that Amy was pregnant. Amy returned to the obstetrician the next day to be checked again. After examination the doctor emphatically affirmed that here was no heartbeat, and that all indications were consistent with a 5-week termination. Was there was no hope, no chance? Of course, they could always hope, though he was certain the pregnancy had ended. They made an appointment to return a week later for a final verification. Amy continued to take the hormones necessary to sustain the pregnancy. We fasted and prayed. She postponed the appointment a couple of extra days and waited until she felt it was the right time to return. When they performed the ultra sound, the doctor and his nurse were astounded to hear baby’s healthy heartbeat. It was only the beginning of surprising developments.
Around twenty-three weeks into the pregnancy Amy began to feel sick and in pain, especially at night. Several nights she visited the emergency room in American Fork. In the early morning of December 13, they suddenly realized that she had preeclampsia (toxemia), and that both she and her baby were dying. The only possible helpwould be to deliver the baby immediately. To give the baby the best chance for survival, Amy asked to be transferred to Utah Valley Hospital, where the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit was prepared to help.
Rich and Amy recount the unanimous gasp of the doctor and several attendants, when they opened her up expecting to find a 24 week old fetus but, instead, saw a baby boy the size of a 20 week-old. Though doubtful that he was big enough for the tubes needed to help him breathe to slide down his throat, they were surprised that they went down with no trouble. He was only as heavy as a can of soda—12 oz; and he was hardly longer than a dollar bill.
Mom and Dad were cautioned that they should not expect the little one to live—that babies very seldom survive unless they are at least 22 weeks along—and this one was only the size of a 20 wk-old. The medical staff began what became a heroic effort to support a boy determined to hold on to life.
The parents sought the Lord’s will in a Priesthood blessing. They were told that their baby was in the Lord’s hands, and that what should happen, would happen; he would live; his care would be inspired; his family should exercise their faith and enjoy him. So they did.
They prayerfully and aptly named the baby JESSE, which means ”God’s Gift”, or “The Lord Exists”; and CALEB, a Biblical soldier and leader known for his fearlessness in the face of overwhelming odds.
On his ninth day of life, the hospital staff told Mom and Dad that Jesse was failing quickly and not expected to make it. "There's no time left for miracles today" the doctor said. They placed him in his mother’s arms so she could hold him as he died. Surprisingly, in moments he began to improve. Quickly they took him back, replaced him in his bed, and tried to recreate the position which had given him relief.
Weekly, and sometimes, daily, Jesse was administered to in order assist his heart, his intestines, his lungs, his blood vessels, his bones, his kidneys, his brain.
Eventually he was transferred to Primary Children’s Hospital for a successful intestinal surgery. But shortly Jesse began to succumb to a persistent buildup of fluid around his lungs. Struggling for weeks to keep him alive, the doctors declared that Jesse’s only chance was to undergo a desperate, dangerous surgery that was not certain to correct the problem. They scheduled for Monday, Memorial Day. The Thursday before, the family united in fasting. On Sunday night the Priesthood blessing Jesse received said that he would not need the surgery. Monday morning the surgeon was surprised to see that Jesse had improved dramatically. The doctor said that he would not need the surgery and that he could be transferred back to Utah Valley Hospital.
Amid the crises, Jesse had some normal family life. Santa Clause came to visit him on Christmas Eve. Dad and Mom and Jesse had their first Family Home Evening, reading the Christmas Story from Luke, quietly singing Christmas carols. Jess received his first two books for his library—two beautiful versions of “The Night Before Christmas.” Rich taped a picture of his dog Chiaro to the lid of his isolette, along with flashcards, and a tiny mobile made of little angels. Toys were propped on the hospital equipment, and new blankets made by his aunts and cousins frequently appeared on his bed. A birthday party was thrown for him every month. He even had his own stereo system quietly playing beautiful lullabies through speakers in his bed. His nurses and doctors loved him and cared for him like his family. His parents were there every day, talking to him and singing to him. His relatives, friends, home teacher, and Bishop came to see him, and to give him blessings.
But by June, Jesse needed those administrations almost every day. On June 9 he was dying, filled like a little balloon with air that had escaped his lungs and fluid that would not stay in his vessels. His grandma and grandpa, his aunts and uncles, and some of his cousins came to the hospital to say goodbye to him. In a beautiful, eloquent, humble prayer, his father expressed our great gratitude for having Jesse in our lives; that we knew that the Lord could cause a miracle and that Jesse could be made well and whole, even at this last moment; but if it were Heavenly Father’s will to take Jesse back to heaven, we could only thank him for the wonderful experience it had been to have Jesse with us and to learn what he had taught us. The rest of the family said goodbye and left Amy and Rich to be alone with Jesse. Less than an hour later, Grandpa returned to be near if needed. He saw flabbergasted doctors and nurses buzzing around the baby’s bed, looking at Jesse. Almost all of the extra fluid had leaked out of a small needle prick in Jesse’s side, and the air had just disappeared. “Where did the air go?!” one doctor exclaimed. Jesse’s eyes were open and he was looking all around. They moved him into a private room, and handed him to his mother to hold. For four hours Jesse lay awake in his mother’s arms and they gazed at each other. A few minutes after midnight on June 10, his mom’s birthday, Jesse fell peacefully asleep.
The hospital staff quickly put together a surprise party for Amy’s birthday, which was certainly one of the happiest days of her life.
This phenomenal pattern of events repeated itself a couple of more times over the following week. Death retreated again, giving Rich a very happy Father’s Day. The staff nicknamed Jesse “The Comeback Kid.” I heard one of the nurses say to Dr. Minton, “You ought to write a book about this.” He thought for a second and snorted, “No one would believe this! They would think it was a work of fiction.” After a moment he added, “But if I did, I would call it A TESTIMONIAL TO THE RESILIENCE OF MAN.” He paused and added, “AND HIS PARENTS.”
Jesse’s last few days were relatively quiet and crisis-free. Mom and Dad were able to have long sessions holding Jesse, who loved to be held. When he passed, it was unexpected and happened very quickly. Because his parents could not get there in time, his doctor and nurses, his other family, compassionately held him as he slipped away.
The doctors and nurses made it possible for his parents to carry Jesse outside to sit in the sunshine by the fountain in the hospital’s beautiful garden, alone with him for the first time. Many people who had cared for Jesse came to the hospital to offer their kind condolences. Their caring and kindness will never be forgotten.
So what is the value of a life that never left a small bed in a hospital room; never uttered a sound; cost a fortune; and over which immeasurable tears have been shed?
Simply stated, Jesse changed people, irrevocably. Brigham Young said that if we could understand how anxious the Spirits are, waiting to come to earth and get on with their progression, we would be eager to bring them to our homes; they are so anxious they are glad to come to the most disadvantaged circumstances. Because of revealed doctrine and inspired utterances in Priesthood blessings, we know that Jesse came gladly to this frail body. He stayed with it, deliberately. He held on and gave the Spirit time to work its mission in many hearts.
Because of his willingness to endure prolonged suffering, he gave us a chance to learn how faith and hope work together. Richard said that while Heavenly Father reassured us over and over again that our faith was sufficient to bring miracles to pass for Jesse, He, nevertheless, gently helped us see that His purpose was to take Jesse back. I add that He constantly reminded us of the promise that Jesse will be given back to be raised by his parents to his full stature in the resurrection.
Jess reminded me that we are all born helpless into the world, and live today, only because of the devoted care of others.
He inspired us to live purer lives, so as to have greater power to bless him, because we loved him.
His innocent suffering reminded us what it means to be pure, childlike; it made us want to be brave, sweet, kind, grateful, meek, patient, enduring.
Amy summed up the blessedness of loving Jesse. She was holding his body at the funeral home and had just laid him down. Weeping, she said, “It was so painful when he was living; but it is so much harder to have him gone!”
I put my arms around her and said, earnestly, “So many of us would lift this burden from you if we could.”
“I wouldn’t wish this on anyone!” she exclaimed. But after a short pause, she added, “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything!”
Bonnie Willford, a receptionist at Utah Valley Medical Center, sent the following writing to Amy and Rich. It was written by Emily Pert Kingsley, and is called “Welcome to Holland.”
WELCOME TO HOLLAND
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous
vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make
wonderful plans. The Coliseum, Michelangelo's David, The Gondolas
in Venice. You may learn some hand phrases in Italian.
It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives.
You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later the plane lands.
The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"HOLLAND? What do you mean, Holland?
I signed up for Italy. I am supposed to be in Italy.
All of my life, I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there has been a change in the flight plan.
They've landed in Holland, and there you must stay.
The important thing is they haven't taken you to a horrible,
disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine, and disease.
It's just a different place. So you must go out and buy new
guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will
meet a whole new group of people you would never have
otherwise met. It's a different place. It's slower paced than Italy.
Less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while,
and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice
that Holland has windmills. Tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy.
They're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there.
And for the rest of your life, you will say,
"Yes, that's were I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
Maybe the pain of that will never go away, because the loss of that dream
is a significant loss. But if you spend your life in mourning the fact
that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to
enjoy the very special, the very lovely things of Holland.
Rich added, “Amy and I have been touched by the many people we have met who have also been to Holland. We love Holland. It's a beautiful place. Very close to heaven, I suppose...”
I believe that I knew Jesse in the Pre-existence. But I have forgotten it. I am so looking forward to meeting him again in the resurrection, putting my arms around him, and thanking him for the wonderful gift he has been to us.
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