Due Date

Today is my due date but I am not pregnant with that child.
Today is my due date but I will never hold that baby this side of heaven.
Today is my due date and I feel a baby move inside of my womb but it is not the baby I should be giving birth to soon.

Eight months ago I went into my bathroom, peed on a stick, and waited three minutes.
Three Minutes.
That's all it takes for your whole world to change.
Two pink lines.
Pregnant.

Those two pink lines bring so many emotions along with them.
Excitement, fear, joy, and worry just to name a few.
You begin to plan and think through all of the things you'll need to prepare over the next 9 months.
New car seat. Will three car seats fit in our small car?
A new bed for the 4 year old, transition the 2 year old to a toddler bed, replace the crib mattress. How are we going to fit another baby with all of the gear that comes with a baby into our small house?
Why does someone so small have the biggest stuff?!

But sometimes pregnancy doesn't go the way we planned.

Just a week after those two pink lines changed our world forever, our world changed forever again in a way we never would have imagined.

On March 12th 2014 just before bed I went to the bathroom and realized something was wrong. I told my husband what was going on and we went to bed hopeful that maybe it was no big deal.
By morning I knew that our life wasn't what we planned.

I texted my midwife and told her what was going on.
She called me immediately and asked so many questions.
I answered, numb, in shock, and feeling nothing and everything all at the same time.

They say the year of firsts is the hardest.
I sobbed in church week that I knew I should have first felt Zoe kick.
The first Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness day I couldn't even blog about.
This should be her possible birth day.
This Thanksgiving should be the first with our daughter.
This Christmas should be her first Christmas and our first as a complete family.
March will be her first "angelversary."

This year is hard.
But today is lonely.
Today feels dull, gray, and empty.
It should be full of joy and excitement in expectation of her pending arrival.
Instead I feel sorrow and grief for the life we should have had with her.

It's fitting you know, all the rain that is falling today.

It was gray and gloomy the day we lost our baby and it's gray and gloomy today.

Knowing that this day was going to be difficult we decided to celebrate our angel.

My sweet amazing husband planned out our whole morning.

He left early to go get a couple of things, told us to all write letters to Zoe, and be ready for the day by the time he got back.

He came home with five pink balloons.

One for each of us, including the baby I'm now carrying.

There were tears as we miss her so badly but it was nice to also celebrate her life.

She's changed us.

Her life has changed us in so many ways.

I'm thankful for our sweet baby.

And I look forward to the day we get to hold Zoe Mae. 

Pregnancy after miscarriage.

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This was never a road I thought I would walk.
This was not the life I had planned.
This is not at all where I thought I would be at 25.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be "that blogger."
You know, the one who blogs about her pregnancy loss, the emotions that go along with it, and then not blog about the pregnancy that has since followed.

That's right.

I'm pregnant and I can't seem to blog about it.

If I were still pregnant with Zoe right now I would be 39 weeks.
I would be big, uncomfortable, anxiously awaiting her arrival, and doing whatever last minute things I could to prepare to bring her home.

But instead I blog about the life we almost had.

After our loss my husband and I grieved hard.
I was really deeply depressed for a few months and there are large
chunks of time missing from my memory.
When I scroll back through my phone during that time frame I'm so thankful for the pictures so I can see what we did and how my boys grew.
But there are certain pictures I struggle to look at.

We had people ask us if we were going to "try again."
While I knew those people meant well those words left a bitter taste.
Try again?! Like Zoe was replaceable.
I didn't want to get pregnant again.
I didn't want a different baby.
I wanted Zoe.
You know, the baby I had carried for a short time, had die in my womb,
and held her tiny body in my hand after she left my body.

I was done. I didn't want to possibly go through that again.
I didn't want to be that vulnerable again.
I didn't want to possibly feel life ripped from my body in a way that ripped my heart out.
Not again.

And then it happened.
My period was late.
I'm never late.
I was having horrible one sided pain.
I panicked.
We were just about to leave on vacation.
A much needed anniversary trip my husband and I had been planning for months.
A trip for just the two of us to get away and reconnect.
While we had been trying to stay close to each other, we were both so lost in our grief we couldn't find each other.
I thought I was having an ectopic pregnancy.

But I didn't.
It wasn't.
I was pregnant.

And then I stopped blogging again for a while.
I couldn't do it.
I couldn't blog about this pregnancy when I never had the chance to blog happily about the last one.

I finally announced my pregnancy on here and left it at that.
But now I feel like maybe I need to blog about what it's like to be pregnant after loss.
Everyone is different obviously but I want to blog about my experience so maybe some day it will help someone else.

There are so many emotions that go along with a pregnancy to begin with.
Adding in a pregnancy after a miscarriage brings in a whole other world of emotions.
It brings a long a lot more questions, fears, and worry than my first two pregnancies.

So I hope you join me in the journey of pregnancy after miscarriage.
It's my prayer that you'll find hope, a sense of community, and encouragement in my blog.
So please, join me in this journey. One that affects so many but so few speak about.

Loss and the life that follows.

It's been six months since we lost Zoe.
Six Months.
It's almost impossible to believe.
Half a year has gone by.

I think often about where I would be in my pregnancy with her now.
I would only have seven weeks left till my due date.
I think about the things we would be doing to prepare for her arrival.

We grieved hard when we lost our baby.
I got lost in a sea of depression for months.
I moved about in a fog day in and day out.
Blogging about everything helped my heart to process and to heal.

My heart felt so raw and so broken for a really long time.
It felt like I would never feel remotely ok again.
I wanted to hide away. To stay in bed all day.

I had a lot of support from so many people.
People who I had never met sent me little things to remember my daughter by.
So many privet messages, emails, comments, and even cards to let me know that I wasn't forgotten and neither was my child.

And I did begin to heal.

I remember one night sitting with a couple of girl friends drinking coffee.
We were talking about how my husband and I were doing after our loss.
The question got brought up about if we would have any more babies.
My answer was that I really didn't know.
I told them that my heart wasn't ready to try for that again.
Thinking of getting pregnant again and the thought of another loss was almost unbearable.
But I did confess that if it did happen I would be ok with it.

That was one of the last conversations we had on the subject for a while.
I stepped away from the blog world for a while needing time for my heart to just be quite.
The beginning of August my husband and I had planned a week long trip.
We needed to get away. To reconnect. To just be husband and wife for a while again.
To temporarily leave the roles of parenthood, jobs, and every day life.

Around two weeks before our planned trip I began to have pain in my back.
I didn't think too much of it as I have issues with my si joint from my first pregnancy.
But the pain got worse.
We were going to be driving out of state.
We had plans in place that couldn't be refunded
I began to not feel well at all.
I waited till the Monday the week we were to leave hoping maybe that I would wake up feeling better.
That morning I woke my husband up and told him my fears.

I was late.
I was having a lot of one sided pain.
I was scared.
An ectopic pregnancy?...
Could I really do this?
Could I go through this again?
Could our hearts really handle this?

And what about our trip?
We had been planning this for months.
Our marriage needed us to get away and reconnect
but it wouldn't be possible if my fears were coming true.

We agreed I would make a Dr's appointment for that day and find out what was going on.
At first I couldn't get in that day.
My usual midwife was fully booked and the other midwife in her practice was off that day.
I asked if my son's Dr was by chance available. She happens to be a friend and I knew if  I was going to have to hear that kind of news that day I would prefer it to be a friend.
But they couldn't get me in till late. And my husband would be at work.
I had to figure out what to do with the kids or come up with a different plan.
I called my mom but she was headed with my sister to a Dr's appointment and wouldn't be able to make it in time.

So I panicked.
I decided to go to urgent care.
I just needed to know.

On the drive there I considered just stopping at a drug store to buy a home pregnancy test
but I had told my husband I was going to urgent care so that's probably what I should just do. Plus if it was positive and I had to wait for a dr's appointment till later
I knew my mind would go crazy.
After a few minutes in the waiting room I was called back into an exam room.
I answered a lot of questions.
Then I waited.
After a while the nurse came it.

Positive.

The pregnancy test came back positive.
They were sending me for an ultrasound to see if they could locate anything.
I cried on and off.
Waiting in the waiting room for the ultrasound was so lonely.
I tried hard to keep my tears to myself.
A husband, wife, and mother all sat down.
I don't think I've ever been more grateful for a complete stranger as I was in that moment.

He cracked endless jokes and his care free demeanor pulled everyone in the room in.
I started laughing and then sobbing. They asked me what was wrong and I shared my fears as well as the fact that we had lost a baby earlier in the year.
I told them I felt like they were angels sent there for me that day.

I was finally called back into the large ultrasound room.
I couldn't believe how large it was. The lights were dim and there was a nice couch for family or friends to sit on. I thought of how nice it would have been to have a place like that for healthy pregnancy sonograms. But I felt in my heart that wouldn't be the case for us.
After a very long ultrasound with no conclusive answers my friend and doctor called me.
She wanted me to keep my appointment later that day.
The only things that could for sure be seen was a cyst on my left ovary, a dilated Fallopian tube, and no baby could be located.

I tried to keep my composure as I walked out of the room and into the waiting room.
The tech I'd had was wonderful but I felt like I didn't have any real answers still.
The strangers in the waiting room asked if I knew anything.
I shook my head no.
They told me they would be praying for me and the baby I was possibly carrying.

My husband called into work.
I ran to get some blood work done.
I called a friend from church to see if she could watch the boys for us so my husband could go to the appointment with me. She was more than happy to do so.

We went to the appointment and talked for a long time with Dr. C.
After a long discussion we decided to repeat blood work again in 48 hours and if anything got worse to go directly to an ER but she felt confident that I was just very early in pregnancy and that the cyst was causing the pain.
With permission from my Dr we decided to go forward with our vacation plans.
She told us to go, have a lot of fun, relax, and to enjoy every bit of vacation.
So that's what we did.

Our vacation was wonderful.
We needed it more than we realized.
The kids had fun with their grandparents.
My husband and I laughed harder than we had in months.
We talked and connected.

We came home from vacation and I had to have another round of blood work done.
My doctor called me as soon as the results came in.
The first round of blood work said that my HCG numbers were in the 450 range.
In 48 hours they were hoping to see them double.
By having them double it would make my chances of an ectopic pregnancy smaller.
They doubled in the 48 hours.
When I had the next round of blood work she was hoping that my numbers would be at least to a 6,000. They ended up coming back at over 14,000. Things were looking good.
We had another sono and the baby was so tiny. The size of a grain of rice.
My dates were off. No one could believe I knew I was pregnant as early as I did.

I have since had another sonogram done and the baby is looking wonderful.
We told our boys. Bug doesn't really understand as he's 2 but Monkey is over the moon about this baby. He prays for the baby every single night that the baby grows healthy and strong and that it's a girl. Apparently he wants a sister really badly.

I plan to write more about our journey of pregnancy after loss.
How we talked to Monkey about the new life growing inside of mommy after having only told him a month earlier that we had lost a baby.
I plan to get back into the groove of regular blogging about other things as well.
But for a few more posts my heart needs this space.
Thank you all so much for all of your love and support both in loss and in new life.

Storming the castle and other cool moves.

I thought I was doing pretty well.
I cried less.
I laughed more.
I didn't forget but it didn't hurt as much to remember.
I played with my sons while thinking of my daughter.
I was engaged and present with them.
I didn't feel like being physically sick when the 13th rolled around this month.
I could actually look at my friend's 25 week pregnancy update without completely losing it.
I even looked wistfully at her belly picture thinking about what my belly would have looked like as I would have been 25 weeks along as well.

Then Wednesday came.

I felt withdrawn.
I wanted nothing more than to go back to bed.
I wanted to hide away.
I wanted to get lost in the online world.
I didn't want my husband to go to work because the thought of the boys needing me was overwhelming.
I tried to keep it together. I really did.

But then my husband gave me the look and asked me the question.
"What's wrong?...."
I tried to brush him off and just tell him I was in a funk.
Just a weird mood that I couldn't shake.
"You miss her a lot today....don't you?..."
And that's when I lost it.

Tears came.
I couldn't stop them.
I couldn't hold it back anymore.
It felt like my secret was out.

I tried to hide it from the boys.
Tried to keep it together for them.

I'm not sure if our 4 year old asked my husband or if my husband just told him,
but he knew mommy's heart was sad.
He bound into the kitchen, dimples showing, arms open wide, and embraced me.
He wrapped his sweet little arms around my neck and held me as I held him.

"Mommy, I know your heart is sad today. So here's the deal..." In his typical 4 year old fashion he lays out a plan for our day full of snuggles and movies, extra hugs and kisses, and helping out with his brother.

I cried on and off all day.
I tried to hide it as best I could.
We snuggled and watched a movie.
Even Bug, who is usually on the go, climbed up to snuggle me completely on his own.

As I worked on making dinner that night I cried while cutting up onions.
I didn't think it was noticed as Monkey didn't say anything and wouldn't really look at me.
But as we ate dinner he said, "Wow mommy! These onions are TASTYYY! Even if they did make your eyes cry."

Oh that boy.

I decided we would end the day a little happier.
We walked to the doughnut shop.
Ice coffee for mommy and a doughnut to share for the boys.
"THIS is a happy ending to a sad heart day." -Monkey
We brought back our treats and watched Turbo.
And yes, I cried some more.

The next day Monkey asked me if my heart was still sad.
When I told him it was feeling much better, he looked proud and accomplished.
He told me that we would snuggle more that day to help my heart be even less sad.
As I watched my boys play sweetly together with their castle set, well as sweetly as they can while storming the castle gates, I couldn't help but imagine what it would have been like in two years. Monkey 6, Bug 4, Zoe 2. The three of them storming the castle gates together, slaying dragons, and taking on the world.

Later that night he asked me why my heart was sad.
I didn't know how to answer him.
He had asked me questions before.
I told him that mommy just missed some people a lot.
He asked me who I missed.
I didn't want to lie to him.
I didn't know what other questions may come if I told him I missed his sister.
I didn't feel it was fair to my husband for me to tell our son alone.
I told him I missed his daddy a lot that day.
I was relived that I hadn't had to lie but that I didn't have to tell him everything.
He asked me who else I missed.
People. I said people. That's plural.
I told him I also missed his Mima.
He asked me who else.
I knew he wanted the full truth.

I had so many thoughts.
How do I do this? How do I tell my oldest son that he has a baby sister in heaven?
What is the right thing to do? Do I tell him? Is telling him that news for me or him?
What might that do to him? Why isn't there a manual for this?!

I quickly changed the topic and got him distracted with something else.
I felt relived at first but quickly realized he just needed to know the full truth.
I told my husband that night about the conversation that took place.
We just sat together in silent sadness.
Sad for the life we have lost with our daughter.
Sad for the sister our sons are missing out on.

Today was a beautiful day.
The sun was shining.
Unplanned, my husband and I took Monkey into the backyard and sat at the picnic table together.
We began telling him how there had been a baby in mommy's tummy.
We told him how she's now with Jesus.
We reminded him of when mommy was really sick and he helped feed his brother dinner and friends and family brought us some dinners.
We told him what his sister's name was.
We told him we love her and miss her and how that makes us sad.

He listened intently.
His sweet little 4 year old mind trying to take it all in.
He asked us if we'll ever get to hold her.
He asked us if she was going to come back.

We told him that it doesn't work that way.
We told him we'll hold her some day when we go to live in heaven with Jesus too.
We told him how happy she is in heaven with Jesus.
We told him that it's ok to be sad and to miss her.
We told him it's ok to talk about Zoe and ask us questions.

He flashed his dimple smile and his eyes lit up as he said,
"Zoe would have loved me. I would have taught her all sorts of cool things."
And with that he took off into the backyard, showing off his ninja moves, and other cool things he would have taught his little sister.

We did the best we knew how.
And for now, that was enough.

Is God still Faithful?

The night my heart was breaking and I was losing our baby I created a playlist.
I titled it "Sad" because that's how I felt.
I began to add song after song.
I listened to the playlist I had created every day.

I had a deadline to meet for a dog expo I would be attending at the end of April.
I focused on sewing and listening to the playlist.
One day I really heard the lyrics to one of the songs I had added to my playlist.

"I am broken, I am bleeding

I am scared and I’m confused...

I am weary, unbelieving

God, please help my unbelief

'Cause You are faithful

Yes, You are faithful"

I listened.

Broken.

That had been the word I had been  using to describe exactly how I felt inside.

Bleeding.

Physically my body had bled and it felt like my heart would never stop bleeding.

Scared. 

I was terrified. Had I caused this? Just days before I had carried my oldest son's bike through the house and outside for him to ride it. As I picked it up and carried it, "hmmm, should I be doing this? I wonder if its really wise for me to be carrying this bike."

Confused. 

I was so confused as to why God would give us a baby we initially didn't want, but fell in love with, then take her away.

Weary.

I was weary to the core. A deep kind of tired that no amount of sleep could touch.

"I will proclaim it to the world
I will declare it to my heart
I'll sing it when the sun is shining
I will scream it in the dark

You are faithful
You are faithful
When You give and when You take away
Even then, still Your Name is Faithful"

I have to confess that I had times when I really questioned God.

I remember listening to this song and thinking, "I know in my head that God is faithful but my heart is so broken right now that I think it's forgotten."

It felt easy to tell the world that God was faithful but I had moments where deep inside my very being I wasn't so sure if I still felt and believed that.
He had given us a baby that was then taken away.
Just after I had given God my heart in a way I never had before my world was rocked to the core.
Was God still really faithful in those moments?
I wondered why He couldn't ease me into this new life.

As I listened to the words I thought through how easy it was for me to share God and what I claimed to believe while in Africa. But now? Sure, I could still tell others what I though I should say or what I thought they wanted to hear, but deep down inside me I wasn't so sure.
I was shaken to my core.

As a teenager I had been able to shout it from the mountain top.
Now as a mother who had just lost a child I had a hard time whispering it to my heart.
It didn't seem fair. He gave me this baby and then took her away? How could He still be faithful?

"And with everything inside of me

I am choosing to believe

You are faithful"

We had friends over for group one Sunday afternoon and while honestly I don't remember much else about the conversation I do remember what my friend Melissa shared.
She talked about how they sang "Christ Is Enough" by Hillsong. The chorus,

"I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back. No turning back."

She went on to talk about how we have chosen this life. 

We have chosen to follow Jesus. Are we going to live like it or are we going to turn back like Lot's wife? (You know, the woman who looked back and was turned into a pillar of salt? yeah her.)

Isn't that like us though? To want to just stay with what we're use to.
To want to go back when we come upon something difficult.

So I decided I would declare it to my heart.
I would scream in the dark places that I was walking through that God was still faithful.
And now as I look back during some of the darkest days in my life I can see His presence.
I can see the ways in which He was faithful and reminded me He hadn't left.

So I will continue to say yes.
I will continue to say that God is faithful.
I will continue to believe.

Photo Credit



And just in case you want to listen to the song you can click this link: https://play.spotify.com/track/7ki9WVWIhTOZT3ucoDX5MC

Waking up and walking out of the fog

PhotoCredit

Three months.

For three months I have walked around in a fog.

I've been tired to the core.

I have gone to bed at the end of the day and though "I don't remember what we did today....at all."

I have felt a deep brokenness that no amount of time can heal.

I have felt an emptiness that no amount of stuff could fill.

I have grieved over the loss of my child harder than any other loss I have ever experienced and I have lost a lot in 24 years.

I felt like winter would never end.

I felt like the sun would never shine again.

I cried for days on end.

I would fall asleep with a wet spot on  my pillow from my tears and wake up wishing the weight in my chest would go away.

I felt like my world was crashing in around me.

I felt like I was suffocating in my own life.
I called it a successful day when we all got out of pjs.
I couldn't even begin to think about trying to keep up with the house.
Most days I simply wanted to stay in bed.

I was confused how people who had lost babies before could be so callous and cliche.
Yet, friends who had never experienced that loss didn't feel the need to say anything and simply embraced me.

I became "that blogger", you know, the ones who write about miscarriages and baby loss.
I wasn't sure what to expect when I hit publish on the post about the life we almost had.
A lot of days I didn't want to keep writing.
I seriously considered walking away from my blog entirely.
But then something happened that I never expected.
Community.
I began to get messages from other baby loss moms full of love and support.
And then I received a message from someone who needed to know she wasn't alone.
So because of all of you I kept going.

I will never just "get over" having lost a baby.
A part of my family is missing.
I will never go a single day without thinking of my sweet girl.
I will always wonder what it would be like to have her in the mix.
I will always wonder.

But I realized a few things recently.
I don't have to just get over it and move on with life.
I do have to keep moving forward.

Moving forward doesn't mean moving on 

and it certainly doesn't mean forgetting.

I will carry my girl with me everywhere, every single day, for the rest of my life.
I will never forget her.

But something happened recently.
I feel like I woke up.
The sun was shining.
The fog was gone.
It doesn't hurt quite as much.
I don't feel quite as raw and broken.
I'm still grieving. I still hurt.
But I don't feel like I'm suffocating.

Time hasn't healed my broken heart, God has.
Stuff hasn't filled the emptiness I've felt deep inside, Jesus has.

I'm not saying that this has been easy or that all of a sudden I feel normal again.
I know I will have days that are really difficult.
I have several friends who are all due when I should have been.
It will be very bittersweet to hold their babies.
I don't know what the future holds for me or my family
but I feel like I'm beginning to live again.

The sun is shining.
Winter has ended.
Spring is here and summer is coming.

The question without answers.

It's amazing how much changes in the course of four years.
Four years ago today I was 10 days overdue with my first child.
I went through the disappointment of false labor and then a failed induction.
I came home the second time after having been on pitocin for 8 hours and decided to go help out at a youth event at our church because I didn't want to do nothing while waiting.

At the time eating a spicy chicken wing sub and playing 4 square with a bunch of teens sounded like a lot more fun.

Four years ago today I was unable to sleep because I knew the next day I was going in for my second induction and he would be born within 24 hours after the start of the induction.
I would finally be holding my sweet little boy.

He's grown into such a sweet, caring, loving, and affectionate boy.
He is so intuitive and observant.
He's quick to run and check on other's if he thinks they could be hurt.
He's one to sit and snuggle while watching a movie.
He loves to make you laugh and hugs and kisses are always on tap.

The day our world changed he never left my side.
I didn't know what to tell him about what was going on so I simply told him mommy didn't feel good and that I had to rest a lot.
I spent the day laying on the couch and he spent the day snuggled up close to me.
He was quick to get up and help his younger brother just so I didn't have to get up.
I'll never forget the way he told me "Momma, I'll feed brother dinner tonight so you can go lay back down."

When I finally began to start physically feeling better he would ask me often if I was ok.
He would ask me if I needed to lay down.
And he began asking me how my heart felt.
He knew I was sad deep inside but that I wasn't sick anymore.

Then about a month ago he started talking about what he wants for his life.
He told me that he wants to get married and be a daddy.
And then he started talking about "his little girl."
He started telling me things that he wants to do with her and things she'll like.

But then he surprised me one day by saying that I should have a little girl.

The first time he said something about me having a baby I just quickly changed the subject.
I just couldn't even imagine another baby. I didn't wan to replace the one we lost.
He has continued to bring up having a little sister and the way he would protect her and teach her cool things.

Ever since losing our daughter I have wrestled with how to talk to my oldest son about it.
Tomorrow is his fourth birthday but today he grew up.

We sat together in our favorite chair to read a couple of books when he asked me the question.

him: "Mommy? Is there a baby in your tummy?"
I looked over at him to see his eyes looking at my stomach with eyes that pleaded for a yes. Before I could answer he reached down and touched my stomach as if hoping to feel something.
me: "No buddy, there is not a baby in my tummy."
His eyes looked confused, still looking at my stomach, and he pulled his hand away.
him: "Oh. I thought there was."
How do I answer this? How do I talk to him about his baby sitter that he'll never meet or hold this side of heaven? 
me: "There was a baby in there, but not anymore sweetie."
him: "I know mommy. There were two babies in there. First there was me and then there was brother. But I thought maybe there was a baby in your tummy now."
He looked at me with a sad smile. I could tell he was confused. Unsure how to ask the question. I looked back at him wanting to answer his questions only I realized these were questions without answers.
me: "Why did you ask if there was a baby in my tummy?"
him: "I just thought there was so I just wanted to know."
He then climbed off my lap and left the room.

I watched him as he walked away.
His physical demeanor different than when the conversation had started.
His heart was sad and he didn't know why.

The rest of the night has been spent with him close to my side.
He asked me how my heart was feeling. I told him my heart was sad.
He told me his heart is sad too. He asked me if I missed daddy because he misses him too.
Extra hugs and kisses.
Bedtime was a little bit later.

My son turns four tomorrow but he grew up a little bit more today.

When Mother's Day Hurts

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I remember my first mother's day in May 2010.
I was pregnant with our first child.
Full of wonder and excitement.
My belly growing more every day.
The feeling of the kicks, punches, and hiccups I would feel from him every day.

I was a little jealous of my husband because I was still pregnant for
mother's day but our son would be born before father's day.
Yes, I was a mother already but it felt like it didn't count because he wasn't born yet.

I look back and think back to that first mother's day and think how naive and silly I was to think that just because my child wasn't in my arms I was less of a mother.
I remember on that first mother's day my husband cooked a delicious dinner for me.
We had just returned from our trip to Arizona for my husband's college graduation.
So many firsts in that first year of marriage.

The next three mother's days were all ones that I looked forward to.
My sweet husband always made a wonderful dinner and made me take a "day off."
Guilty free naps or time to read a book.

But this year?
This year it's different.
This year Mother's day was painful.
I cried on and off the two days leading up to Mother's day.
I just wanted to skip it.
Could I just sleep through the day and ignore it completely?
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realized I looked pregnant but I'm not.
I didn't want anyone to wish me a "Happy Mother's Day" because honestly I'm not happy.
And I feel guilty for saying that because I know I've been blessed with two wonderful boys but it doesn't make it hurt less.
There is still an ache in my heart for the child that I'm missing.
There is still a brokenness that I can't shake.

I had a conversation with someone just before Mother's day.
She asked me about the title of my blog.
Thankful For Thorns.
I told her how it's being thankful for even the hard stuff in life.
I quoted the lyrics that my blog title came from.
"Everybody loves a rose, but will you be thankful for the thorns."
And then I confessed to a perfect stranger that I'm having a really difficult time
living out that title.
How can I be thankful to have lost a child?

I never realized before this year how Mother's day could be painful.
All of my previous mother's days were ones I looked forward to.
As a kid/teen we almost always went out to dinner with family and spent the whole day together. Sometimes we would go to the mall after dinner or we would to back to my aunt's house. Either way Mother's day and Father's day were always fun celebrations.
Then I became a mother myself and in my own joy I completely overlooked countless other's pain.

Children without mothers.
Mothers without children.
The walking wounded with hearts that are broken.
For so many it's a day full of hurt.
It reminds so many of what they've lost.
It reminds many of what they never had the chance to have.

Mother's day was a popular day to announce pregnancies.
New babies due to arrive late October early November.
Babies that will be born close to the day my daughter should have been.
My heart aches.
I'm genuinely happy and excited for them but I would be lying if I said my heart didn't hurt with each announcement. I would be lying to you if I told you I wasn't jealous or that I was completely fine with this. I would be lying if I said I was ok with this broken road I'm walking on.

Grief is a strange thing.
It hits you when you least expect it.
It leaves you feeling deflated and empty.
It makes you feel crazy and angry.
It causes you to cry when you were just laughing.
And the whole time you just wonder if it's ok to feel the way you do.
My dear friend can I just tell you; Yes, it's ok to feel the way you do.
Yes, it's ok to cry, to be angry, to laugh, to be happy.
And I promise, you're not crazy.
I wish I could give each and every person who is hurting this mother's day a huge hug.
Know that you're not alone.

I'm still grieving. I still cry. I still feel alone. But I grieve with hope.
I have the hope of knowing my sweet daughter is in the arms of Jesus.
I have the hope that someday I will finally meet her.
I have the hope that God has a plan even though I don't understand it.
I have hope.
I pray that if your heart is hurting today that you have that hope too.

One Month.

It's been one month since we said goodbye.
It feels so much longer.
It feels like just yesterday.
But I guess that's how grief is.

I'll be totally honest.
My house is a mess.
There are dirty diapers needing to be washed,
Hampers full of clothes needing to be washed, folded, and put away.
And dishes needing to be washed.

I'm trying to keep busy but I have little desire to keep up.
I spend a lot of time sewing these days.
It's productive, enjoyable, creative, and keeps me busy.

I feel like a bad mom to the boys.
I'm struggling to be there for them.
They are changing.
Right in front of me, they are changing.
Changing, growing, learning and...and I'm missing it.
Because I feel like if I move forward,
if I go on, keep going...
that it means I'm forgetting my third child.

And if I forget her...
then she'll be gone.
Lost forever.

I feel stuck.
Stuck in life.
Stuck in my blog.

I have so many review commitments I need to fulfill, giveaways to be done,
and other things I want to blog about too but I can't seem to do it.
I never thought or imagined that I would be in this place.
And I just don't even know how to add in other content to my blog again right now.

One month later...I'm still in that place.

Today I realized if I were still pregnant I would be 11 weeks.
I felt both of the boys move for the first time at 11 weeks.

I ache for that feeling.
That feeling of movement of life inside of me.
Those first few baby butterfly kicks.
The ones that only I could feel.

I feel like some people get it.
But so many...most...don't.

Few call.
Less come.
Life moves on.

But here I am.
Still grieving.
Still broken.
Still hurting.

When you give God your heart and it all falls apart.

Two months ago I never thought this is where I would find myself.
Two months ago I never could have imagined how different I would be.
Two months changes a lot.

On February 1st my husband and I attended a wedding.
Probably the most beautiful wedding I have ever had the honor of attending.
The bride and her family have been friends with ours as long as I can remember.
My sister and the bride best friends since they were four.

The wedding was beautiful and was more like a worship service than a typical wedding.

They spent their first moments serving each other by washing each other's feet and worshiping their Savior.

Her father gave her groom a charge.

Things about her heart and holding and protecting it.

I had been going through some stuff and really stuck with me.

The next day while at church while still thinking of the wedding and some of the personal things we had been dealing with for months just got to me.

I cried and worshiped in a way I have never experienced before.

Uninhibited.

Carefree.

Unreservedly.

Completely.

Recklessly.

I had this moment alone with God while standing in a room full of people.

And I heard Him say to me, "I will hold and protect your heart if you will let me. I can't promise that it'll never be broken or hurt but I can promise that I will always hold it in my hands. I will always be right here holding all of the pieces and will help you put it back together when you're ready. If you will let me."

So that day in church I said "Yes" to God in a way I never had before.

I had trusted Him as a child. I had followed Him half way around the world as a teenager.

But I fully gave my heart to Him and said "Yes. Here is my heart, I'm trusting you with it" as an adult. We sang a new song in church that day and as I sang and poured out my heart I for the first time really meant what I was singing.

"Here we stand our hearts are yours,

Not our will but yours be done."

But then two weeks later He whispered softly to my heart again.

Reminding me that their was something I was holding on to.

"You said you gave me your heart but there is this piece

 right here that you are holding on to so tightly."

I know God but what if you don't do this right.

What if I'm not ready for this? What if I can't do it?

"You can trust me. And if it all falls apart I will be right here

holding all of the pieces."

So I did.

I gave up the last piece.

The piece that was trying to control if we had another baby or not.

You see, I had all of these plans. 

These goals and dreams that I didn't know if I could do with a newborn and two older children. I liked our routine and schedule. I was seeing ways I could grow my blog and my etsy shop. I could see in two years, maybe less, we would finally be debt free.

But I thought another baby...well that will change things.

We'd need a new car.

Could I handle being pregnant, all of the pain that goes along with my pelvic condition (pubic symphysis dysfunction), and still be the mom I want to be to my two older boys?

So I was holding onto that piece.

Two days later, after fully giving God my heart, God planned our family for us.

I was pretty sure I was pregnant but it was too early to take a test.

So I waited.

When I was two days late I told my husband that I thought I was pregnant.

I took the test and we watched and waited.

Three minutes.

That's all it takes.

One line.

Two lines.

Pregnant.

For one week I wrestled with how I felt about being pregnant.

I would feel excited and happy. Catch myself with my hand on my stomach.

Then the next minute I would wonder how I'm ever going to really do this all.

Then I heard Him whisper softly to my heart again... "Trust me."

On Wednesday, March 12th my husband called me and said "Find someone to babysit the boys. We need to go out this weekend. We need to celebrate. We need to get excited."

I told him that he was right. We needed to get excited and that every baby deserves to have their parents happy and excited about them.

Two hours later it started.

I went to the bathroom and was shocked at what I saw.

I tried to keep calm and hopped it was nothing.

When my husband got home from work I told him what was going on and we went to bed.

But when we woke up the next morning I knew it wasn't nothing.

My heart shattered.

Broken into a million pieces.

I realized just how in love I already really was with our baby and how much I wanted her.

But I knew what was happening.

I knew we would never get to hold our sweet baby in our arms.

Never breathe her in.

Never feel her soft skin.

Never touch her hair.

Not on this side of heaven.

That Sunday we went to church.

I was numb and broken.

I avoided certain people.

Didn't want them to know.

I wanted to be alone.

I wanted to be held.

I didn't know what I wanted.

I cried.

The lights were dimmed.

It was time to worship.

I felt so broken and didn't know if I could.

But at the same time I had to.

And we sang.

"Here we stand our hearts are yours,

Not our will but yours be done."

I sobbed.

I couldn't really even sing.

I told God that He had my heart.

He told me that He couldn't promise it would never be broken.

He promised me He would hold the pieces in His hands.

He spoke softly to my heart.

Then my heart was broken.

He reminded me that He is close to the brokenhearted. (Psalm 34:18)

So I'm here.

Two months later.

Brokenhearted.

Hands still lifted high.

Trusting Him to hold the broken pieces.

Praying that my brokenness brings glory to His name.

Spring is coming

It's snowing and its overcast and gray.
The grass is lifeless and brown.
There are patches of snow still on the ground.
The world looks dull.

Source

My heart feels empty.

But I know that spring is coming.
Today is the first day of spring.
In a few days it will be my husband's 26th birthday.
In just about a month from now my parent's back yard will be coated in a blanket of beautiful white blood root flowers.

I know that spring is coming.
I have smelled it on the days where it's been warmer and raining.
I have heard the birds begin to sing their songs and return from their winter homes.
I have felt the warmth of the sun on my face.

I know that spring is coming.
I eagerly watch and wait for the first robin.
I have heard the chickadees singing their songs.
In just a matter of weeks I'll be outside planting seeds for new flowers.
We'll soon see buds on the trees.
The days will continue to get longer and warmer.

The lilac bush will bloom.
The violets and phlox will coat my yard in white and shades of purple.
We'll be able to turn off the heat and open the windows during the day.
We'll hear the frogs in the pond near by.
And we'll go feed the ducks stale bread.

Spring is coming.
It's coming soon.

Spring is when the whole world feels new.
When the world comes back to life after a long hard winter.
There are signs of new life all over.
Everywhere you look you see new life. New growth.

Two weeks ago that we found out there was new life growing inside of me.
Two weeks ago we began to dream of this new member of our family.

Amazing all of the things you can think of and feel in the span of one week.
Wondering how we would do it all.
Thinking of how there would be a new baby at Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Thinking of being six months pregnant and going to the fair like we do every year.

It's amazing how you can instantly fall in love with someone so small.
And for one week I knowingly carried my child in my womb.

It feels impossible that it has been a week.
A week ago today that we lost our baby.

I have no idea why God is taking us down this road.
I have no idea why our baby had to go to heaven after only 6.5 weeks with us.
I have no idea why I was chosen to carry this sweet baby only to lose her.
But I do know one thing.
As hard as this has all been and continues to be, I would chose to do it all again.
I will carry you. I will always and forever carry you in my heart sweet girl.

We had big dreams for you.
Photographs we wanted to take.
We wanted to hold you.
Smell your sweet skin.
Feel your soft hair.
We wanted to rock you and make you feel safe.

People say that I'm brave but I'm not.
Truth is some days I'm barely hanging on.
Some days I just want to go crawl back into bed and sleep the day away.
I get angry. I get sad. I get lonely.

Someday I'll tell your brothers about you.
I think of you on a summers day imagining you being 3 and running with your wild hair.
I'll always wonder if you would have had bleach blonde hair like me, or brown hair like your daddy. Your brothers have smiles that fill their faces and bright eyes that light up our world.
I look at them and wonder what you would have looked like.

Monkey has been sad the last few days.
He says he doesn't know why but that he wishes daddy was home.
I think he misses you too.
Even though he didn't know you were here.

And even though my heart is still breaking and your daddy and I are still sad
I will be thankful for the time we had.
I will still praise the One who gave you to me.
I will still give Him my heart and know that He will carry us through this.
I will continue to stand with my hands lifted high, tears streaming down my face, my heart broken, and say "Here we stand our hearts are yours. Not our will but yours be done."

The place in between.

Photo Credit

There are so many questions with no answers.
There are so many emotions with no words.
No one knows what to say to us right now.

People keep asking me how far along I was.
I honestly have avoided answering because I feel like by stating I was 6.5 weeks it somehow makes my baby's time on this earth count less.
My husband and I have decided to give our child the name we had picked out for her.
So I wait for people to say "Well at not even 7 weeks you have no way of knowing if it was a boy or girl. Why waste such a beautiful name?"

I wait for the short time I was blessed to carry our sweet baby to be discredited and brushed off as unimportant. And maybe deep down I struggle with some of those very thoughts.
But in only a week of having had a pregnancy confirmed, we had fallen in love with our child.

So I'm finally saying it.
I was six and a half weeks pregnant with our third baby.
The only physical proof we have that she existed is the positive pregnancy test.
I had not been to the doctor yet so we don't have any pictures of her.
But I had physical signs that I was pregnant.
I walked down one of the isles in my local grocery store
and I could smell the pickles through the jars.
We went out to dinner at a local Chinese buffet and I couldn't get over how yummy the peaches were. They were canned. Nothing special. But man they tasted good.
I had three helpings of them.

I was honestly scared about having a third child.
I didn't know if I could do it.
We have some big dreams and plans for my etsy shop and for this year in general.
We would need a different car as we couldn't fit three car seats in our current one.
I have problems with my pelvis and knew how painful and difficult Bug's pregnancy was with a toddler. Could I really go through that again with two kids needing me?

It wasn't until I thought I might be losing her that I knew I could do it.
I would do it.
Gladly.

We knew for certain that I was pregnant for exactly one week.
I looked at the positive test several times throughout the week.
Checking to see if this was really happening or if I was just dreaming.

After we lost her I had someone say,
"You didn't have room in your house for one more child!"
I wanted to cry and say, "But I had plenty of room in my heart."
We had enough room. There is always enough room.


I have so many questions.
Questions that can't be answered.
I wonder if it was my fault.
I wonder if the fact that after Bug was born
I had to have a D&C done made this happen.
I wonder if I could have done anything to prevent it.

I wait for the words that have remained unsaid.
Words that I know wouldn't help at all but I have secretly thought myself.
Things I have felt guilty of thinking.
Words I don't really want to hear.

I try to process the hurt and guilt that I didn't want this baby at first.
And yet I fell in love and am broken now that she's gone.
The guilt I feel for grieving a baby we lost only a few short weeks in when I have two healthy awesome boys here who need me too.
But if I move forward it feels like she never existed and will be forgotten which breaks my heart.

So here I sit.
Writing again.
Over 500 words.
A thousand thoughts.
A heart that is broken.
A love that is lost.
Caught between grieving what we've lost
and celebrating what we've gained.

We are not alone.

photo credit: Nick Kenrick .back from Cuba via photopin cc 

When I stared blogging after my oldest was born it was because I was pretty lonely.

We got married, moved to a new city, and had a baby all in less than a year.

I didn't know anyone where we lived and I needed an outlet.

I was working through a lot and needed a way to get it all out.

So I began blogging.

Not because I though I really had a story to share or anything that others would really relate to but simply because I needed it.

As I read some other blogs I just remember laughing or crying as I related to some of their stories. I found encouragement to be a better mom, wife, woman, and child of God.

I have grown and changed so much over the years and I'm still growing and changing.

I've continued to blog because of the community it has blessed me with.

So many beautiful wonderful people.

I have been so beyond blessed by the outpouring of love, prayers, and support as we grieve the loss of our baby.

I never could or would have imagined all of the messages and emails I would receive.

We've honestly truly felt it.

So thank you.

We've been blessed with a wonderful Church family as well as 

biological family who have just wrapped their arms around us. 

As I sat on my friend's couch Sunday night and talked to her about everything I've been thinking and feeling, how I've read some other blogs who have gone through the loss of a child. I told her about how I was blogging about what we're going through even though I'm not completely sure I want to. She told me, "One of my favorite quotes is by C.S. Lewis. "We read to know we are not alone. You need to read and you need to write."

I understand if what I have to write is too much for you to read.

I promise I won't be hurt by you clicking the little red X.

But I feel I have to write it for my own personal healing.

And if it helps just one other person to know they're not alone, 

then it will have been worth feeling so exposed. 

I've experienced every emotion possible I think.

I have cried till my eyes burned, my cheeks stung, my face was red, and body ached.

I'm pretty numb right now. 

Most all physical signs I was pregnant are gone so in some ways 

it almost feels like I never was.

I still have some weird food aversions and little to no appetite. 

Things I once really liked make me gag and things I have never liked taste really good.

I'm doing every day things. Going through the motions. Doing laundry, picking up toys, reading books to my boys.

I'm still having trouble sleeping.

I've talked so much about it, rehashed the timeline of the last six or so months that has brought us to this place that I feel like I have no words left. Yet I am able to type over 500 words and have a million thoughts.

I'm trying to keep busy but I don't really feel like doing a whole lot right now.

In some ways I feel like I need to just push ahead and go on with life but then I feel guilty like I'm forgetting our baby. Like her life didn't matter or count.

I just feel...stuck.

When life isn't what you planned.

I drafted this post the night that I was losing our baby.
I had no idea if I would ever come back to it or if I would ever actually post this.
I'm still not even sure if I want to.
But here I am back at this post reading through what I wrote, still feeling unimaginable emotional pain. The physical pain has mostly gone but my hear is still so broken.



Being thankful for thorns means being thankful for the hard stuff in our lives.
It doesn't mean that it makes it all ok or a walk in the park but still being thankful.

I have to be totally honest with you, I'm struggling with being thankful for some thorns right now in my life.

First going through failure to thrive with Bug.
Watching him go through tests and monitoring everything he ate.
Increasing his caloric intake as much as possible.
Being afraid of if he was going to be ok.
Feeling like it was my fault and questioning what I did wrong.
Everyone of course reminded me it's not my fault but I still to this day feel as though I failed my son. God has placed him in my arms for me to nurture, care for his physical needs, and train him up. And somehow I failed to fully meet his physical needs without even knowing it.

And now....I have a baby in heaven.
It's weird you know?
You never think or expect it could REALLY happen to you.
It's just something that happens to other women.

I know a lot of women who have one or more babies in heaven...
I never imagined it would be me too.
I'm typing this up on 3/13/2014 the day my baby went to be in the arms of Jesus.
And man I'm jealous.

I'm jealous.
I'm sad.
I'm confused.
I'm alone.

I'm jealous that Jesus is holding my baby right now.
I'm sad that I won't be able to hold my little one in this life.
I'm sad for all of the things our family is going to miss with this child being in heaven.
I'm confused as to why this happened. I know God has a plan and I know it'll work together for my good (Romans 8:28) but man right now I just don't understand this at all.
I'm alone. There is no longer a baby growing inside my womb.

My husband will be going through emotional loss and pain too I'm sure but no one else will feel this exact physical pain. The emptiness I feel inside me.

I was carrying our third child.
We were getting excited.
We were making plans to go out and celebrate this new addition to our family.
And now our whole world feels turned upside down.

Instead of going out to dinner and a movie to celebrate we'll be spending Saturday night curled up in pjs and blankets "watching" a movie to distract ourselves.
Instead of going out to dinner we'll be eating whatever we can throw together.
Instead of getting excited and being happy we'll be grieving.

I will always love you my sweet angle baby.
I will miss you every day.
I will always be your mommy.
I will see you again some day.

The life we almost had.

I thought the moment I graduated from high school I would feel grown up.
Maybe it would be when I had my first car or got my first job.
Going out on a first date, that was a grown up thing to do right?
Becoming an assistant manager in a woman's retail store.

Getting engaged.
Apartment hunting.
Getting married.
Moving in to our first place together.
Setting up all of our utilities.
Paying bills and living on a budget.
Getting pregnant.
Having to testify in court.
Having a baby.
Being a full time stay at home mommy.
Turning 21.
I am an adult so naturally I must be grown up.

I thought maybe it would be the day we brought home our second baby.
The time frame of me babysitting two kids while being a mom to my own two and being a wife. I thought I was grown up and old when we were going through failure to thrive with Bug (our second.) and I was having to do all sorts of difficult things.

Today I feel old.
I feel weathered and worn.
I feel broken and busted.
Bruised and battered.
I feel empty and numb.

Nothing prepares you to go through a miscarriage.
Nothing prepares you to go through losing a baby.
Nothing.

I use to read some blogs that I had stumbled across.
Mom's who had experiences the unimaginable.
Mom's who opened up the broken parts of their hearts and shared them with other women.
I use to read them and go "oh my...I can't imagine..."
I might snoop around and read more about their life.
I would pray for them.
And then I would click the little red X at the top of the page.

But this...this is now my life.
I can't click the little red X because there isn't one.
This is not how it should be.
But this is how it is.
In a matter of a few hours I went from feeling full, excited, and getting ready to be a mom of three, a work at home mom with an etsy shop, and a woman who loves her God and her husband.
I went from planning to go out and celebrate with my husband one day to talking to my doctor about having a miscarriage.

But now.

Now I'm a mommy to three.
I have two babies who are currently asleep upstairs in their room.
I have one baby who is in heaven in the arms of Jesus.
And I'm broken.

My heart is broken. My womb is empty.
I have cried more in a matter of a couple of days
than I have in the last probably 10 years combined.
My cheeks hurt from the salt of my tears.
My eyes are blood shot, red, and puffy.

In a matter of a few hours I went from thinking and dreaming of the rest of this year, getting excited for when our new little love would arrive, thinking of going to the fair and being pregnant, thinking of Christmas and hanging five stockings, to now thinking of how there is an empty space in our home.

I still love my God.
I will still praise Him and I know He is close to me and holding my broken heart.
I am still a woman who loves her husband like crazy and I know we'll get through this together.

But I'm so different now.
I'm a different person than I was on Wednesday.
I could never imagine this is who I would become.

I'm now a 24 year old mom to three.
I'm the mom who is just doing what she has to in order to get through the day.
I wake up with my hand on my stomach and smile
but then I remember there is nothing there.
I get up and change Bug's diaper with tears in my eyes.
I meet the demands of both boys who are hungry and thirsty.
I do what I have to do.
Then once my boys are in bed I cry and mourn our other child.

I miss the life we almost had.