Column: Book donation program helps Elburn parents continue story of their infant daughter who died last year: ‘We are grateful to keep her memory alive’
The first thing I notice when walking into the Elburn home of Nina Trader and her husband Derek Braasch is not the hundreds of children’s books, some in boxes, some in stand-alone piles, that dominate their living room.
My eyes, instead, go straight to the beautiful frosted pink Christmas tree in the corner of the family room that features butterflies and flowers and handmade ornaments - and large white letters that spell out a little girl’s name.
The story of Sophia Louise is not a long one, if you measure by how much time she had here on Earth.
Weighing only 15 ounces when she was born April 21, 2022, the premature baby fought hard during her few weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit at Central DuPage Hospital and then at Lurie Children’s Hospital, where she took her final breath, despite Herculean efforts by teams of professionals at both sites determined to keep their tiniest patient alive.
Sophia battled mightily for 40 days, never growing strong enough for her parents to hold her. And yet, more chapters are being added to her story, thanks to loving parents who want their baby’s life to contain a hopeful narrative.
The pink tree that went up last Christmas and has never been taken down is one way Trader and Braasch have kept her memory alive. But another – one that has a more far-reaching impact - is Sophia’s Little Library, which brings me back to those many piles of books that continue to accumulate in the front room.
Over the last six months, the couple, who tried for seven years to conceive before finally getting pregnant through In vitro fertilization, has collected more than 2,000 children’s books and distributed them to neonatal intensive care units across the Chicago area, including at Central DuPage Hospital in Winfield, Edward Hospital in Naperville and Northwestern Medicine Delnor Hospital in Geneva for its specialty care nursery.
The seed of this idea came from Susan Villa, who worked in labor and delivery for over three decades at Edward but found her true calling 10 years ago by helping, as she tells me, “not the parents who take home a baby but those who do not take home a baby.”
As the coordinator of the specialty programs-perinatal bereavement for Edward-Elmhurst Health, the registered nurse leads the SHARE chapter of the national organization, which is free of charge to anyone who has lost a baby in pregnancy or early infancy.
The Elburn couple, looking for a lifeline after their daughter’s death, found that help through friendships and activities in the clinician-led peer support groups that, as Villa puts it, “gave them the space to be Sophia’s parents.”
Because one of the greatest fears is that their child will be forgotten, those who lose an infant often look for ways to help others while also memorializing their little one, she tells me. Some make bracelets, others do random acts of kindness or donate to charities. And many give to the comfort totes handed out in NICUs that contain such things as socks, blankets and notes of encouragement from others who have also gone through such trauma.
But when Trader approached Villa looking for a different way to directly help others, the nurse suggested books that could be read by loved ones to the babies.
Trader, who says one of their favorite things to do with Sophia in the NICU was read to her, absolutely loved the idea and took it to friends and family who responded with such enthusiasm - some even held their own book drives - there was an “explosion” of books that have since been delivered to about a half dozen neonatal intensive care units in the area.
Indeed, after the couple and Sophia’s Little Library were featured on a WGN-TV segment last week, more books arrived, which Trader, a benefits analyst for Aldi, is gradually going through in her spare time.
The project is not only providing books to neonatal intensive care units, it is keeping Sophia’s name alive, notes Villa, adding that so often people are afraid to bring up a child’s loss because they are unsure as to how the parents will react, when in fact, those moms and dads want desperately to talk about their baby.
Even through her tears, I see comfort in Nina Trader’s face as she relives the nightmare of her delivery, which began with her hospitalization for preeclampsia, and continued for over a month as Sophia struggled with a litany of challenges that included a collapsed lung, bacterial infection, sepsis and a valiant heart that, in the end, could not pump enough oxygen to keep her other organs going.
The baby went into cardiac arrest on multiple occasions, says Trader, who remembers vividly what it was like for the couple to watch through a window as an army of medical experts performed chest compressions on their 15-ounce baby.
There were victories, too, like when Sophia survived the transport to Lurie. Or when she opened her eyes for the first time.
This tiny girl was a fighter, no doubt about it. But setbacks always followed, occurring closer together and more serious “until there were no more options,” Trader recalls.
When Sophia was placed in her arms for the first time - May 30, 2022 - it was also the last time she embraced her baby.
The days that followed Sophia’s death were filled with mind-numbing emotions that Trader can quickly list - “utter despair, emptiness and fear of not making it through this, feeling like we lost our only chance at becoming parents” and feeling overwhelmed at the thought of living the rest of her life without Sophia.
There is also blame - something she still struggles with - at not being able to carry the baby longer.
Anger too. Of course.
“When they first came to me, I was worried about them,” says Villa, noting the hellish journey the couple went through to even conceive this little girl they lost so soon.
“But I don’t see the anger anymore ... I see so much healing. Nina and Derek are doing great things.”
Which brings me back once more to those mounds of books, all of which will be sorted, then divided into groups that will go either to NICUs or to older children in pediatric intensive care units, says Trader.
At some point, she and her husband, a security officer with The Westin in Lombard, will reach out to see which hospitals need more books and call around to other places that have yet to receive a delivery. (Those who want to donate to Sophia’s Little Library can send new or gently used children’s books to Nina Trader and Derek Braasch, PO Box 8227, Elburn, IL. 60119).
“We usually do between 100 to 150 total books” at each hospital, she says, adding that the next drop-off will likely be within a couple weeks.
As Trader shows me the books that will add to Sophia’s own story, her smile seems as genuine as the tears that fell earlier in our conversation. Each day, even the good ones, hold challenges. Triggers lay waiting like land mines on a battlefield.
But with healing comes hope. With pain can come purpose.
“Sophia lives on in our hearts and in the tiny moments of comfort these books will provide,” says Trader. “We are honored to be Sophia’s parents and share her story. We are grateful to keep her memory alive and give back in a meaningful way.”
