Hard Stuff
My friends, it has been a while since I have written for this blog.
Three months ago, I gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. Brielle Shiloh has already lit up our lives and is a testimony to God’s faithfulness. If you have ever had a newborn, you realize how little time one has for oneself. Every waking moment is spoken for by a tiny human who now runs the world!
I hope to find a writing routine that works within my new reality. I would love to promise a bi-weekly blog, engaging social media posts, and the introduction of other projects, but I need to practice taking patient steps of practicality. For now, I am jotting down notes and dreaming big for things to come regarding this blog, my book, and speaking engagements. As time allows, these things will roll out and you will be invited to journey with me. In the meantime, enjoy the adorable pictures of my baby girl on Instagram and whatever content I can produce.
For my first blog back, I contemplated where to begin. I supposed it was only fair to connect back to the cliffhanger from my May 2, 2023 post titled “Silence was not my first choice.” At the end of the post, I asked, “Where do I go from here regarding my content?” Well, let me fill in some blanks and share how I have been working through some hard stuff.
In light of the comments I made last blog, let me begin with a warning: If you are currently expecting a baby or are trying to conceive, I recommend reading on with caution or not reading at all. It can be really difficult to read someone’s story when there are too many parallels to your own. There are often too many triggers ready to pounce; I know this all too well.
I realize I do not have to share this part of my story; however, I believe our stories are used by God when we permit them to be told. I also know that healing is often found by releasing the secret pain into the open.
I was pregnant last June. We were elated! It had been a long and disappointing season of trying to have a third child. We had, in fact, decided that our time frame for such a miracle had expired. God had different thoughts.
If you have done the math or remember reading the blog post “I Have No Words” from July 2022, you will have concluded that I miscarried our miracle. Our breakthrough pregnancy, given in the final hour, was lost on Sunday, July 10 while I sat in the front row of our church. A date stamped into permanent memory. All the anticipation, the build-up, the months of despair, and, finally, the breakthrough…only to be left brokenhearted and empty?
This question has stayed with me: How do I grieve something like this? Someone I knew for so little time. Someone that others didn’t know existed. Someone with a beating heart but no body. Someone prayed for but never by name. And how do I open my heart to the possibility of again when the journey has been mutilated by disappointment?
We had sadly become accustomed to the 1 in 8 infertility statistic, but now we faced a new one: 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. The doctor encouraged us to try again, saying that most women who miscarry find themselves able to carry the next pregnancy to term. I wanted to tell him, “I am not most women. This pregnancy stuff doesn’t come easy for me.” God wasn’t done writing this chapter though and, in September, we found out we were expecting again.
After you lose one, you are concerned about losing another, despite what the statistics say. We were very guarded with the pregnancy at the beginning, but I was also quite sick and we were finding it difficult to conceal our news. I wasn’t looking forward to publicly sharing our news because I was fearful we would miscarry again. I also knew that my good news of finally being pregnant was a sad reminder to others that they were not yet pregnant. I walked those years where I was asked to show up in joy for others while my heart was grieved and broken by my empty womb.
So, I walked on this tightrope my entire pregnancy.
Happy to be carrying a child and scared that I would lose her.
Rejoicing in our miracle and yet waiting with friends as they prayed for theirs.
Excited for our future while being reserved and cautious about what may not come.
Wanting to celebrate every small moment of our last pregnancy while not wanting to boast or appear insensitive to the brokenness of others.
An agonizing waltz between deep pain and deep joy.
The calendar pages kept turning and with every month I became more at rest that I was indeed carrying a healthy baby. Then, the month of March arrived.
I was supposed to give birth in March…to the baby I lost.
I knew it was going to be an emotional month for me and I recognized that I had not yet adequately grieved. Thus, I intentionally decided to set aside the month to process the loss and pray through the hurt. I purchased a devotional about pregnancy loss and a guided journal to help me put words to paper and feelings to prayer. BUT, if you read my last blog, then you know that my March didn’t go as planned. I was 29 weeks pregnant and hit a crossroads that I never saw coming… between a Wednesday morning and Monday night, I was accosted with six different accounts of stillborn stories. It was everywhere! In a book I was reading, on a soccer documentary I was watching, on the front of my Facebook feed, in the pick-up line at school, at church, and at a kid’s party. Three stories were told to me in person while I held up my extremely large belly and three distant, but no less harrowing, accounts were revealed through my media intake. All six testimonies occurred at gestational week 29 or 30.
I was unraveled at this point, every wall was crumbling. I had planned to do the hard work to feel the pain of what was lost so that I could fully embrace the joy of what was soon to come, but these stories triggered new fear. Isn’t there an unwritten rule about not sharing negative pregnancy, delivery, or birth stories with a woman who is currently pregnant? Yet, six days of a stillborn siege and I was stalled. This barrage highlighted my fragile hope and caused me to wonder if I would find myself in a similar script.
Some questions are not answered on this side of eternity. I do not know why Scott and I dealt with infertility with all three of our children. I do not know why we lost our third baby. I do not know why people felt it necessary to share their stillborn stories with me while I was within the very same gestational period as they had been. I also do not know why those individuals forever carry those stories while I eventually gave birth at 38 weeks.
What I do know, without hesitation, is that I couldn’t have survived all the angst without the Anchor whom I trust. God reminded me over and over again that despite the outward appearance or the visual circumstances, He was at work. Part of His work was to be my Comforter - He listened to me, He saw my sorrow, He felt my tension, He knew my anxious thoughts and He never belittled me, shamed me, or rushed me through…He was patient and gentle. He reminded me that “[He] keeps track of all my sorrows. [He has] collected all my tears in a bottle. [He has] recorded each one in His book.” (Psalm 56:8, NLT)
Essentially, I mean the world to Him. So does my new daughter, Brielle. And, so does my sweet unborn child. He holds that one closest and will delight in the day when He can introduce us to each other for the first time.
Our stories may be different, but we all walk the tightrope of deep pain and deep joy. No matter what crumbling wall you face, please embrace this truth: You matter to Jesus. He knows your pain, your unanswered questions, and all your triggers and trials. He, too, bottles your tears and every sorrow you face.
I am thrilled with my rainbow baby, Brielle Shiloh. He knows the full picture and why she is the specific one this world needs. Yet, even in the celebration of this miracle child, I am still fragile and unsure. I am still confused and hurt. Loss is still loss even if joy comes in the morning. And Jesus knows this better than anyone. While He bottles up my tears, I do my best to reach out for His gentle comfort. He has never failed to show up and sit with me in the hard stuff. I know He will do the same for you.
And, on this #nationalrainbowbabyday, I pray for the moms and dads who have walked the hard path of infant loss; may you find comfort in the knowledge that our Heavenly Father cradles your precious baby in His perfect hands. And I pray especially for those still hoping for a rainbow baby of their own; may God surround you with hope. He is a miracle worker!
Until next time my friend,
I invite you to grab a cup of coffee, tea, or chai and sit with me. If you haven’t yet purchased God’s Big Ask, you can do so here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BGKHY7KM
