Happy Bereaved Mothers Day!

A day that I never knew existed until last year is here - Bereaved Mothers Day. You learn a lot when you lose a child. 

And I know some people would question my blog post title, because how can anyone ever put the words happy and bereaved in the same sentence? And yet, even as a bereaved mother, I have a lot to be happy about.

I am happy that I had the opportunity to carry my babies in my womb even if only for a short time.

I am happy that I have a sweet sunshine daughter June Bug who loves and remembers her baby sisters Mikayla and Selah.

I am happy each time I remember Mikayla's kicks, that hot chocolate always made her dance, and I am happy I got to see her face even though it was only a brief moment. Though all these memories are mingled with sadness, there is happiness there, too. 

I am happy that Selah passed peacefully and at home instead of in a cold hospital bed with drama and needles and doctors and nurses. I am happy I had the time to truly say good-bye. Again, I wish the ending could have been different, but if she had to go away so soon, I am glad it happened the way it did.

I am happy that I have a rainbow on the way who will not in any way replace Mikayla or Selah, or make me love or miss them any less, but who will enrich our lives and bring joy to our family.

I am happy that I have a loving heavenly father who knows and understands the pain in my heart and offers His comfort and peace.

I am happy that the same heavenly father is holding and loving my precious babies for me until the day I get to see them again. 

I am happy that through the wonders of the internet I have learned and found other beautiful and courageous mothers who are walking this most difficult of roads alongside me. I am happy we have each other for support and encouragement, and the healing power of a simple, "Me, too!"

So yes, I wish each and every mother who has ever had to say good-bye too soon to her precious child a very Happy (though probably bitter-sweet like so much of life) Bereaved Mother's Day. 

Happy Birthday, Sweet Girl!

One year old today

365 days of this earth traveling around the sun,
And now you're one!
Happy Birthday, Sweet Girl!

I imagine how chubby your thighs would have been, 
As you toddled around with frosting coating your chin,
From your beautiful birthday cake.

I imagine the curls of your hair,
and the sticky crumbs you would share 
With your loving big sister June Bug.

I imagine the gifts and ribbons and bows,
And dressing you up in the cutest new clothes,
And watching you play in the paper.

I imagine the giggles and smiles and babbles,
And the wonderful sound of your voice speaking 
Straight to my heart, "Mama!" 

I have to just imagine, you see,
Because you are no longer here with me.
365 days since my heart shattered. 

You are one year old today.
I wish that you could have stayed,
To celebrate with us. 

But even as we are down here,
We smile through our tears, 
To think of Jesus holding you in heaven.

I never got to bring you home,
But one day He will bring me home to be with Him,
And you,
Forever.

Sibling Day

In case you didn't know, today is sibling day.

My Facebook news-feed is filled with photos of people with their siblings. Some when they were children, some as adults, some even have both.

As much as I love my siblings, and enjoyed seeing the photo my own sister posted, it does hurt a bit. You see, I will never be able to have a photo with all my siblings, and neither will June Bug. I can't help but wonder how many of those other photos have missing siblings as well.

Though it was never talked about a lot in my house growing up, I lost a sibling to miscarriage when I was 4 years old. We never got to meet this sweet baby, and I don't even think we knew about the existence of this baby until we were much older. I never really gave it much thought until I experienced losing a baby of my own.

And now June Bug has two siblings she'll never get to see this side of heaven. I could try to get a photo, using the teddy bear we have for Mikayla and the little owl knitted by a fellow loss-Mama for Selah, but it's just not the same. Our family photos will be forever incomplete just like my heart will forever be missing pieces.

Until we are made complete. One day when I stand before my savior and he fills in the holes in my heart with His healing love, and fills my aching arms with my babies I miss so much, I will be complete. Until then, I will be glad that June Bug has a sibling she will hopefully get to see and touch and play with come July. I will be thankful for the siblings God blessed me with on earth and the laughter and tears we have been through together. And I will mourn for the missing siblings in far too many homes.  

The Mingling of Hope and Grief

Yesterday was Palm Sunday.

Last year on Palm Sunday I was in the hospital recovering from labor. I spent most of the day either in numb shock, or curled in a ball bawling my eyes out wishing I had died too.

This year I was at church, and only cried twice; when we sang songs about Jesus overcoming death.

Jesus overcame death. Mikayla's death has been conquered, destroyed, overthrown. She is alive and well. Selah, too. Not alive in my arms, but alive nonetheless.

Right now I am 22 weeks pregnant. I am a handful of days past the point where Mikayla left my womb for heaven. Mikayla's 1st heaven day is coming soon, and this Easter season will probably forever bring with it reminders of my sweet girl gone too soon. It's been an emotional week, and will probably continue to be an emotional time until I make it past April 13th.

And yet, the emotions are not all bad. The cup is not only full of grief. There is a sweetness to it as well. A sweetness that my babies are enjoying the wonder of heaven. A sweetness that this new little girl is wriggling around inside of me healthy and strong. A sweetness in knowing that nothing can ever separate us from the love of God. A sweet hope that all things are indeed working together for good.

So despite the triggers of grief that rip the scabs off my healing heart and cause the sorrow to flow once more, I grasp hold of the glorious promise that God is the healer, the giver and keeper of life, and I cry "Hosannah! Hosannah! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!" and the prayers flow out of my lips as the tears flow down my cheeks and the hands are lifted high in praise to the God who knows the pain of watching your child die, and the God who brings life out of death.

My Letter to Grief

I got the idea for writing a letter to grief from Kate Motaung, who encouraged readers to write their own letters. I began this letter several weeks ago, but it got to be too raw, and I had to back away for a bit, but I came back today feeling ready to tackle it. So here goes.



Dear Grief,

Over the past nine months I have tried holding you at arms length. I have tried bringing you in for a snuggle session. I have tried ignoring you and trying to pretend you were never there. I have gotten angry at you. I have coddled you like a newborn kitten and fed you until you became a tiger who nearly turned to devour me. I have researched you. I have tried to plumb your depths. I have ridden out your waves, even when I nearly drowned. You could not take me under.

Grief, you came into my life that early morning in the Emergency Room of the local hospital when I stared at the screen of the ultrasound machine, eyes searching for my wiggly baby and only finding a still stone instead. Strange that there should be a stone there. Where was my baby? Was she hiding? There must be some mistake. And then when I should have been hearing the delightful wild-stallion cantering clip-clop of her precious heartbeat, there was only silence. And I knew. I knew she was gone, and you crept in and made yourself known. An unwelcome guest in a place that should have been filled with hope and reassurance. You showed your ugly head that morning.

 You weren't through with me yet. In fact, you were only getting started. You embraced me as I was caught in the throes of contractions which should usher forth life, but instead were only bringing forth death. You held me as my precious daughter slipped into this world silent and still, when the only cries were that of a mother whose heart was ripped in two.

You were gracious to me those first few weeks. You let me ignore you for a bit; hold you away from me. But slowly, slowly, bit by bit you wormed your way in. You twisted into my heart and left it open and raw and bleeding. Scabs have formed now, but every so often you like to come and rip the scabs off as well, bringing up all the pain all over again.

You've been a constant shadow to me these nine months, sometimes almost disappearing for brief times when the joyful sun shines so brightly straight ahead that I can ignore you for a while. At other times you stretch large and spooky and make me want to hide under the covers like a frightened child. Especially now, that new life is growing in my womb. Now I am scared of you more than ever. I know your full power, and I don't want you coming close again. And yet I am powerless to stop you.

But I don't have to. I can live with you. I can let you come and go, ebb and flow, because I know that there is one in me who is greater than you or anything else in the world. He beat death. And because He beat death, He will one day banish you, grief, forevermore.

So I can close my eyes tonight, snuggle with my pillow, and sleep in peace knowing that though you can be so all-encompassing some days, you are merely a constant companion until the day I see Jesus and He strips you off of me and clothes me instead in pure joy.

Until then,

A Grieving Mama choosing to live by FAITH, not fear

Day 31 and FMF:The God who Never Leaves

GO:

I will never leave you nor forsake you.

Some people ask, where was God? Where was God when I was hurting, sick, in pain? Where was God when my loved one left this earth too soon? Where was God when my heart was shattered into pieces?

I know my God is here. I know He never left me nor forsook me. I know He was holding my tight the night my world fell apart.

Some ask what kind of God would take away a baby that was loved and wanted and precious and perfect?

I know that God works all things together for good. I know He always has a plan. I know my babies are not suffering, but are rejoicing and worshiping around the throne of heaven! What kind of God gives us that opportunity to be with Him in glory!?!

He has never left my side. He has never let me down. He has never forsaken me. He has held me when I cried and filled my heart with peace and joy when I thought I would never feel those things again. True healing can only come from the great Physician.

I read in a novel the other day that there are 5 kinds of healing: healing of our immune systems constantly fighting off illness, healing through medical treatment, truly miraculous healing, healing of our hearts and attitudes even as our bodies continue to suffer, and finally the ultimate healing of dying and being given a new glorious body that will never be in need of healing again. My babies have been given ultimate healing, while my grief is being healed in the fourth way - my heart and attitude are slowly but surely looking more toward Christ and less at the horrible pain left behind after loss.

STOP.

Just a note - I found a new doctor. I love my new doctor. Seriously, even though he is expensive, he is worth every penny. He has ordered a whole new set of tests to try to find answers, and has given me a game-plan for what to try even if we don't get any answers, he's ready to throw everything he's got at me in hopes something will work. And after basically being told it was all a big fluke so we'll just watch and see, someone who is willing to DO SOMETHING is a breath of fresh air! And, since I just started my first cycle after losing Selah, it's time to try again! Praying that God will give us the desire of our hearts soon; praising Him in all things.

Day 26: Visit

Day 26 (Ok, so it's not actually, but I'm trying to catch up here!) of 31 days of healing. Joining Kate with a 5-minute free-write on the word VISIT

GO:

There have been 5 new babies born in our church family over the past month. After each one, a joyous email is sent to the whole church body announcing the name, details, and that Mama and Baby are doing fine. Then there is usually some comment about whether or not they are ready for visitors, and/or how to help out the new parents.

The pastoral prayer this week included all the new parents and babies, prayers of thanks for their health and blessings for their futures. It also included all the expecting mothers (of which there are quite a few!).

I can't help but think - what about the rest of us? What about the mothers like me who didn't get the fairy tale ending? What about coming to visit and bring a meal for the mother who doesn't have a cute newborn to show off? What about looking at the heart-wrenching but still beautiful photos of the stillborn baby? What about prayers for healing of the broken hearts of the mothers who got something they never expected?

It is wonderful to celebrate new life. I am genuinely happy that our church family has so many blessed little ones. But I can't help feel a bit forgotten. Yes, we are to rejoice with the rejoicing, but where are those to mourn with those who mourn?

When a father, mother, sister, brother, cousin, aunt, etc. passes away, there is always a throng of people sharing their memories, giving condolences, bringing comfort. 

When a baby passes away before it was born, there is often silence and a sense of loneliness. 

I have been grateful to find sisters online who have been through loss of a baby, but in real life there have been very few who have reached out to me in my pain. My mother and grandmother, and my former college roommate, and another friend from college who experienced a miscarriage around the same time as Mikayla was stillborn. 

We need to do better. We need to acknowledge these precious little lives that continue in heaven. We need to mourn with those who mourn even as we rejoice with those who rejoice. Stillbirth is still a birth, and a life lost before birth is still a life. 

Day 18: A Name

Day 18 (a little late) of 31 days of healing

Today when I opened my Facebook page, I found a pleasant surprise.

This photo:

 Look closely - go ahead, make it big. See there? Right near the top left corner? There it is! My baby girl's name. Written lovingly by Grieve Out Loud. Joined with so many other precious little ones who are dancing with her now around the throne of Jesus. I clicked over to their website, scrolled down, and there on the right down-curve of the S:

Selah's name, too! I had almost forgotten submitting them a few weeks ago, and it made me so happy to see them beautifully written in these precious memorials. 

And I realized suddenly, that seeing their names brought me joy. Joy alone, untainted by sadness. I was happy to see their names; to see them remembered and recognized. To know that there are others out there who believe ALL LIVES MATTER. 

And I realized that I am healing. Being able to feel pure joy without the shadow of sadness is a wonderful feeling, and one I haven't felt since Mikayla's heaven day. 

Thank the Lord for His blessings.

Day 17 and FMF: Long

Joining up with Kate here for another five-minute Friday free-write on Day 17 of 31 Days of Healing


Prompt word of the week: Long

GO:

This week was long. Very long. Getting home from work late every day long. Falling asleep myself as I put June Bug to bed last night at 7:30 long. I am grateful for the weekend.

Time is a funny thing. It is so subjective. Some things seem to last so long, and others seem to go by in the blink of an eye, even when really they take the same amount of time.

When I think back on my time on bed rest, the days felt so long to me. Part of that was being in bed all day left me forced to leave business behind. But I think it was also a gift that God gave me. He knew even when I didn't that I would have to say good-bye to my precious baby soon. I believe He gave me that time on bed rest and made the days seem long to give me the time I needed to prepare my heart for what was to come.

As I've said before, I spent a lot of the time on bed rest praying, reading scripture, and meditating on the truths of the gospel. I also spent a lot of time online, doing research, trying to find out what kinds of journeys I could be in for.

While I long for the day I will hold my babies in heaven, I am thankful for the gift of those long days on bed rest with my Mikayla and my God.

STOP.

Day 16: Adjusting to the "new normal"

Day 16 of 31 Days of healing, 5-minute free-write on the topic: adjust.



As someone who moved a lot growing up, I am very familiar with change. Living in lots of different countries and cultures, I am very familiar with culture shock. I am familiar with dealing with change, and having to learn to adjust to a new way of life that is different from your old one. Not necessarily worse, not better, but just different.

Grief is somewhat the same way.

I remember after one of our moves when I was 9, I became very angry and hated everything about the new country I was living in. I hated the language they spoke there, the food, the way people dressed, just everything about that country. At the same time, I longed for and idolized my life in my previous home. I missed my old friends, my comfort foods, being able to speak without worrying about saying the wrong thing...

At first as I moved into grief I hated everything about my loss. I hated having conversations about children or babies or motherhood because I was always on the verge of tears. I hated the way my body felt, tired all the time, weak, and flabby. I hated myself for all the would have, could have, should haves. I longed to go back to a time where babies didn't die. At least not my babies. Maybe someone else's, far away. I wanted to go back to feeling strong and womanly, knowing my body was the home of a tiny human.

The thing is, you can't go back. You can only go forward, and the sooner you accept and recognize where you are and who has led you there, the sooner you can pick up the pieces and adjust your attitude and find things to love about the new, different, yes difficult, but also blessed, place you are right now. The sooner you can move on with adjusting to the new normal.

Don't get me wrong, I still miss the days of blissful ignorance before I knew what pPROM and MTHFR were, or that 1 in 4 women will experience some type of baby loss at some point in her life. But I am learning to be content to follow where he leads, and lean on Him for strength for the journey.

Day 15: LIFE!

Day 15 of 31 Days  of Healing is very special to me and near and dear to my heart. I also LOVE that Kate's prompt for today is LIFE! I believe we have a God who is sovereign even (especially?) in the small things - even things like blog prompt words, so I know this is no accident!

Today is special because it is a holiday. Not one you'll see on many calendars, not one you'll get a day off work for, and not one that anyone ever really wants to have a reason to celebrate. It is a holiday I wish there was never any need for, but since we do live in a fallen world where babies die, I am glad there is a day set aside to remember.

Today, October 15th, is set aside as Pregnancy and Infant Loss (PAIL) Remembrance Day.

The Bible talks a lot about remembering, and special times of remembrance for His people. They generally involve remembering God's faithfulness during times of trial and tribulation.

Today this is my day of remembrance of God's faithfulness to me in the midst of Mikayla's stillbirth and Selah's miscarriage. I remember God's faithfulness to me and my family in the days that followed. I proclaim again God's continuing faithfulness to me today and forever!

As part of PAIL remembrance day, people around the world light candles at 7 pm local time and keep them lit for at least one hour. The idea is that this will create a continuous  wave of light around the world.

I lit 4 little tea-light candles tonight. One for Mikayla Sophie, one for Selah, a third for June Bug: one for each of my babies. I wrote their names on their candles. On the fourth I wrote one word: hope. For me this candle represents the hope that God will bring more children into our family when His timing is right.

At one point tonight, I glanced over and all the candles had gone out except for June Bug's. I felt a bit like it was an omen of some kind, that only my living-on-earth child's candle had not gone out. I felt like it was a bad sign that the "hope" candle had gone out, especially!

But then I thought to myself, "What can you do when you start to lose hope?" I realized that the best way to rekindle hope is the way the writers of scripture so often did, by revisiting and remembering God's goodness, grace, mercy, and faithfulness in the past.

I looked at that June Bug candle still brightly glowing in the darkness, and it was very symbolic for me. June Bug is a living picture of God's faithfulness to me. So I used her candle to re-light the others.

As I did so I remembered that my hope is in God's faithfulness, goodness, mercy, and grace. I remembered God's faithfulness and grace in giving June Bug life that continues here on earth, and for giving Mikayla and Selah their brief lives here on earth followed by a life that can never be extinguished.

I thank God for LIFE. For June Bug's life. For Mikayla's life. For Selah's life. For the lives of the children He will bless us with in the future, whether biologically or through adoption or some other way of His choosing. I thank Him most of all for giving us eternal LIFE through His death and resurrection.

So today, we remember. We celebrate the LIFE of these little souls who came to us for a short time before returning to the giver of LIFE.

Day 13: 13 Revisited

Day 13 of 31 days of healing 


Well here it is again. The 13th. That date I dread every month. This month in particular because it is the 6 month mark. I cannot believe it has been half a year since I said goodbye to my sweet Mikayla Sophie. In some ways it seems like it was ages ago and I was a completely different person then. In other ways, it seems it was just yesterday the two of us were enjoying some hot chocolate together as I lay in the hospital on bed rest with multiple tubes running in and out of my body and I was so full of hope.

I think I am doing better now than I was 3 months ago. I have fewer bad days, and they are less severe when they do come. I am generally staying on top of things and beginning to find my equilibrium in the "new normal."

I do feel like I am healing, slowly, bit by bit, being knit back together.

Today still hurts.

Day 12: I will Give you Rest

Day 12 of 31 days of healing, joining up with Kate for a 5-minute post on the topic of Rest.


Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

God made the world to function in patterns of waking and resting, day and night, summer and winter.

Go knows so well that we, the people he created, need our rest that he led by example and reserved a day out of every week as the day of rest.

Rest is so very important. And immediately following the loss of Mikayla it was the thing I struggled with the most. I would have a hard time falling asleep, then wake up multiple times every night. I found it hard to take naps. Sunday mornings in particular I was awake by 5am every week, feeling like a bowling ball had been dropped on my belly as I re-lived birthing my sweet girl who had already flown to heaven.

Now I have the opposite problem. Since I got a positive pregnancy test with Selah, I have wanted to sleep all the time. I go to bed early, hit the snooze once or twice every morning, and am ready for a nap when I get home from work pretty much every day. I didn't expect to still feel this way this long after losing Selah, but I still do.

Yes, rest is important, but too much is not good either. I am striving to find the balance between insomnia and constant sleepiness. It's hard.

But ultimately my soul finds rest in God alone, and He is the one that can stir my soul to action. I lean on Him to help me find my way, finding just enough rest under my savior's wings.

Day 11: Resources

Ok people. It's day 11 of 31 days of healing and I am feeling very uninspired and can't think of anything to write about, so I decided to look at Carly Marie's Project Heal for ideas and decided to jump back to her day 8: Resource, and list some resources I have found that have helped/are helping on this journey through grief toward healing.

• Project BEAR

This is an awesome ministry which sends teddy bears to anyone grieving the loss of a baby. I ordered one for June Bug which she calls her "Baby Sissy Bear." I found this site after previously seeing Molly Bears and realized I would rather have a simple bear quickly and for free than pay $20 and have to wait possibly years to get a fancy bear. That's just my opinion, though.

• Still Standing

This online resource is a great place to read stories by other parents who have had their children or babies die. There is a lot of encouragement and practical advice on there, as well as just the reassurance that I am not alone in feeling the things I feel or doing the (seemingly odd) things I do after loss. It is affirmation that though loss changes you for life, you can keep standing, and even begin to walk again.

• CarlyMarie

Another resource that encourages healing and working through your grief in productive ways.

• Surprised By Suffering

A great book that helped me explore where my loss and grief fit in with my faith.

• A Place of Healing

Another awesome book that helped me wrestle with the hard issues of faith and God's love in the midst of pain.

• My mother and grandmother 

Two amazing ladies of faith who experienced the pain of losing unborn children themselves. It helped to know that they have traveled this road before me, and went on to live happy, fulfilled and faith-filled lives and have more healthy children.

• The Holy Bible

Through the work of the Holy Spirit helping me to see God's love and faithfulness, and through reading accounts like that of Joseph and Job and Jesus himself who went through great suffering through which God was still faithful and working all things together for good. I am thankful for a God who can take my hurt and brokenness and turn it into beauty.

Day 9: Join the Praise

Day 9 of 31 Days of Healing ; following Kate's prompt - "Join" for 5 minutes of unedited free-write.



Welcome to the club, Jenna. The club of mothers who have little ones waiting for us in heaven. We know that no one wants to be a member of this club. The rite of passage to get in is one of the worst you will ever experience.

One thing I must say, though, is that the members here are incredibly supportive. We all know how much it sucks and how terrible it is to say good-bye to your baby, so we gather around any new recruits with open arms and flowing tears to embrace you with love and understanding.

Your little Shane joins a chorus of precious little souls who gather around the throne of our heavenly father, singing praise without ending to the one who gave them the blessing of being carried in a womb full of love, for however short a time, and the greater blessing of living for eternity free from suffering, sadness, and pain.

Jenna, I want to thank you on behalf of all of us in this club, for being brave enough to share your journey. Thank you for speaking out and letting others know that your baby matters, and by extension, our babies matter. Your Shane has touched the lives and hearts of thousands, and though our babies may only touch a few in our immediate families, they matter. Each one of them has changed the world just by being here, even the ones who never took a breathe of air outside the womb.

So we join together, a club of Mamas missing our Little Blessings, to sing praises to our Father who allowed us to carry them wrapped in our love, and gave us the strength to survive giving them back so soon.

We join together to praise through our tears. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away; Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Day 8: Little Yellow Duck Feet

Day 8 of 31 days of healing

There is a bag up high on my closet shelf. I put it up there on April 12, 2014 after coming home from a children's clothes swap at church. I have only taken it down once since then, but after reading this article on Still Standing, I decided to get it down again tonight.

Inside there is a little yellow sleeper with frogs and turtles, and a little yellow duck on a turtle's back. There's a green-and-white sleeper with bumblebees. A sweet sleep sack with zoo animals, and an elephant that says "Little peanut," a yellow romper with a bunny rabbit eating a carrot, two pairs of tiny white socks that were so soft I couldn't pass them by. My favorites are a pair of orange, yellow, green, and turquoise striped newborn gloves to keep those tiny razor-nails from scratching a precious little face, and a pair of little white pants with yellow duck faces on the feet.

Mikayla's clothes.

These clothes were lovingly gathered for a baby I didn't yet know was a girl. A baby I didn't yet know would never get to wear any of these things. A baby I never would have dreamed would go to heaven early the next morning, on Palm Sunday.

If I had known, would I have done things differently? Probably not. Well, I would have added in a healthy dose of pink there with the yellows and greens and whites. I might not have taken the practical things like bibs and plain white onesies (which was the reason I took down the bag once before, to send those things to my brother-in-law whose wife is expecting a baby boy any day now. I didn't want to do it, and cried the whole time I was sorting through Mikayla's things, but my husband convinced me, so Mikayla's cousin will get to wear her clothes that she never got a chance to). I might have taken something with me to the hospital when I went to the ER with contractions, so that I could have taken a short while to be Mikayla's mother in some small "normal" way, dressing her and holding her tiny body close to my heart.

But I didn't know.

Now I do. Now, those clothes are incredibly precious to me. They, along with a positive pregnancy test and a single red rose that I dried are the only physical reminders I have that Mikayla ever lived here on Earth. For Selah, I have even less - only the pregnancy test and a blurry photo that no one but me would ever recognize as my baby held on the tip of my finger. But a person's a person, no matter how small.

I pray that God will allow me to put these clothes to good use some day, and Mikayla and Selah can look down from heaven and see a little baby brother or sister with little yellow duck feet, and their Mama smiling as she carries this baby in her arms, and two others in her heart.

Day 5: Triggers

This morning I watched my beautiful June Bug sing on a stage, and she did such such an amazing job. Then they brought up the preschoolers to sing. It brought back memories of June Bug's first of such concerts, when she was 2 and got up on stage with her preschool class for their Christmas concert and proceeded to cry through the whole thing with her fingers in her mouth.

It also brought something else. The reminder that I won't get those memories for Mikayla, or for Selah.

In church this morning there were 2 different couples I knew were bringing their tiny babies to church, with everyone crowding around the car seats to coo over the sweet little bundles of joy, as I felt like a boulder had been dropped onto my stomach because those happy moments were ripped from my life.

Then tonight I was watching A Little Princess with June Bug, and when the main character said that her Mama was in heaven along with her baby sister it was all I could do to hold back the blubbering, knowing it was only by the grace of God that June Bug could only relate to half of that statement.

I don't know how long the rawness will last, or how often the scabs of my heart will be ripped off before the new skin finally grows back, leaving only the scar. Some days are better than others, and sometimes I am fine seeing pregnant women, tiny babies, etc. while other times something as simple as two sisters fighting in the supermarket can send me into all-out panic mode,

I am praying that God would work in my heart to help me count my blessings whenever the ugly green jealousy monster shows up. I am praying that He would help me overcome the envy and fill me up with love. I am praying that God would help me to cherish the moments I have with June Bug, without worrying that she may never get a sister or brother here on earth. I am praying that God would keep my heart soft and stop the pain from fermenting into bitterness, but rather blossom it into love and compassion for others.  

I can't stop the triggers from itching at my heart, but I can choose to look for the beauty and goodness of the Lord in all things, and to rejoice with those who rejoice even in the midst of my mourning.

And I will leave you with a poem:

Loved and Lost
Better to have loved and lost?
Even if your heart gets buried and crushed
Under the weight of snow and frost
In the winter of heartache where all joys are hushed?

Even if your heart gets buried and crushed
And all that remains are fragments and dust?
In the winter of heartache where all joys are hushed,
The naked trees whisper of Spring bound to come.

But all that remains are fragments and dust
And a shadow of a shell of a ghost.
Still the naked trees whisper of Spring bound to come,
"Better to have loved and lost!"

31 Days of Healing

I've decided to try and stretch myself a bit and join up with http://write31days.com/  to write every day in October. I may also join in some of the 5-minute free-write prompts at http://katemotaung.com if I feel inspired.

I chose to name my 31 days project: 31 Days of Healing as I continue on my journey of searching for healing from the Great Physician in the wake of losing a daughter to stillbirth and another baby to miscarriage. I hope that it may also be a journey of physical healing as I may soon get some of the answers I so desperately searched for earlier only to be told "everything was normal" when my intuition screams that it wasn't and isn't.

I am glad to be a part of this project, and I know writing has been a big part of my healing journey thus far and will continue to be. There is a reason John refers to Jesus as the Word. There is power in words, and Jesus is the ultimate Word by which all my faltering lisping words begin to come together and make sense.

Happy reading and writing!

Day 1: Moving Toward Healing
Day 2: Point of View
Day 3: Making All Things New
Day 4: Learn
Day 5: Triggers
Day 6: Know
Day 7: Sore
Day 8: Little Yellow Duck Feet
Day 9: Join the Praise
Day 10: Care
Day 11: Resources
Day 12: I will Give you Rest
Day 13: 13 Revisited
Day 14: Away
Day 15: LIFE!
Day 16: Adjusting to a New Normal
Day 17: Long

Due Date

Today is the day.

August 18, 2014.

They call it the estimated due date because you never know when baby will actually arrive. Big sis JuneBug surprised us 3 weeks before her due date. One of my sisters surprised my mother by waiting almost 3 weeks after her due date! What women expect on their due dates is either to be waddling around with a watermelon belly about to pop, complaining about back pain and swollen ankles, or else shuffling like a zombie snuggling a teeny-weeny wrinkly newborn, changing poopy diapers and feeling like a 24/7 feeding station.

Instead I walk normally, with a (mostly)flat belly, well-rested. My body is not in pain, and on the outside I look just like anyone else.

But on the inside....

I can't help but thinking about what should have been. What could have been. What we are missing out on. I would give anything to trade an aching heart for an aching back and swollen ankles. I would give anything to trade these red-rimmed eyes from crying for red-rimmed eyes from waking every 2 hours to feed a newborn baby.

On this day I dreamed of introducing JuneBug to a new baby sister, instead she is snuggling her "baby sissy bear" (thank you projectbear.com !) and asking when God will send her a "real" sister or brother.

I'm debating between trying to do something special and meaningful today, or just wallowing in my sorrow and shutting the world out for a while.

My Firefly

I have been a part of an on-line Mommy forum site since I was pregnant with June Bug. She has been June Bug on there since she was born in June.

When I found out I was pregnant with Mikayla, I started referring to her on the forums as Firefly. It went well with June Bug. I didn't know if the baby was a boy or girl, but an August due date reminds me of summer nights as a child catching fireflies in a mason jar with holes poked in the lid, enjoying their flashes of brilliance from the front porch swing with siblings and cousins, always at the end of the night to take of the lid and watch them all fly off in a frenzy of flashes.

Tonight I Googled fireflies. I have been contemplating trying to paint something with fireflies and/or get some kind of jewelry featuring fireflies to honor Mikayla.

What I found is that while there are many options for butterflies and dragonflies, fireflies are sorely under-represented in the jewelry department. I guess the reason is that during the day, fireflies are actually quite boring. Black wings, with some brown and a tiny bit of red for accents. They are dark and somber. It is only when the sun goes down and the darkness comes that these ugly bugs show off their true beauty.

This is the first time I have though of it that way, but stillbirth is something like a firefly. When you meet it and inspect it, it looks ugly and dark. The grief of it overwhelms. But when I give in to the grief, let the sadness in and embrace it, I suddenly begin to see little glimmers of light. Little flashes of hope and joy that stand out all the brighter for the inky blackness around them.

I can try to catch those bugs in a mason jar and hold them tight, but at the end of the night I know I have to let them go to truly enjoy the splendor of them. I held Mikayla for a short time in my womb, but it is only since she has flown away to heaven that I have come to see more clearly the deepness of God's love and mercy and His majestic light in the midst of darkness in my soul.