Our Story

One year ago today, December 9, 2011, we heard the words every couple fears the most. This is the day we learned that our little girl went home to be with Jesus.  I cannot believe it has been a whole year since we lost Abigail. It seems unreal to think that 12 months have passed.

I have wondered what this day would be like for a whole year now. Right after the miscarriage I envisioned us having a baby by this time the next year. I was just sure we would get pregnant right away. I just knew that within the next few months we would be expecting again and our baby would be with us by Christmas. 

After a few months passed and all we were expecting was another month of anticipation and frustration, I began envisioning a different path. I thought, “Okay, we will for sure be pregnant by this time next year, I just know it.” Each month I tried to have the hope that that month would be different. It eventually became clear that God had other plans for reasons we did not understand.  We are on a completely different path than I ever thought we would be a year from the day our baby went to Heaven.

I don’t want to recount every detail of that day as I have before in this blog. I have replayed parts of that day in my mind almost every day since it happened.  I can still remember all the details like what I had for breakfast, what I was wearing, which student I had just met with and the details of her meeting, the moment I saw the blood and began cramping, the phone call I made to David, the worried look on his face after he rushed home, the consoling tone of the nurse on the phone when we called the doctor, the silent ride to the doctor’s office, the way the doctor’s office was decorated for Christmas, the sad look on the doctor’s face when she told us the news, the tears that I couldn’t hold back, Dave’s strong grip clasping my hand in his, the walk from the office to the car passing several pregnant bellies, the hope and prayers that maybe she was wrong, the painful phone calls telling our family and friends, the drive to a trusted friend and mentors house to tell them the news, their hugs embracing us, the drive to my mother’s house, her embrace, her tears, my tears, Dave’s tears, a pain like I have never felt before.

As much as I try not to think about those details, they still run through my mind almost daily. Christmas time has reminded me a lot of her. Everything was decorated so pretty last year. All the trees in our house remind me of the pain of that moment and the moments to follow. The Christmas lights on everyone’s houses, the baby’s first Christmas ornaments, and the Christmas cards we received with pictures of happy families holding their adorably dressed babies.  It all reminds me of her and the pain of this day. 

There is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss her. Not a day passes that I don’t think of what it would be like to be holding her right now, snuggling her, kissing her, hugging her, rocking her, changing her, feeding her, looking into her beautiful eyes.  Over this past year I have learned more about dealing with pain and loss than ever before in my life. I have dealt with loss and pain prior to losing Abigail but this was different.

Over this year I have faced two of my greatest fears, losing a child to miscarriage and struggling to conceive. Before we even started trying to get pregnant I feared those things. Actually, before I was even married I feared those things. I would selfishly pray, “God, please don’t let that happen to me.” I just knew it would be too hard to handle, that I wouldn’t know what to do or be able to cope with it. I have learned through this experience that God can give you strength to face and cope with even your greatest of fears.  I have learned what it means to surrender your desires even when they are good and holy.  I have learned what it means to really face your pain, I have learned what it means to go on in the middle of a deep hurt, I have learned what it means to use your pain to help others, I have learned what it means to let God use a really hard season for His glory and purposes, I have learned what it means to grieve with your spouse, I have learned what it means to want something so badly it hurts, I have learned what it means to surrender that same thing you want so badly for God’s ultimate plans, I have learned what it means to be in intimacy with the Father, I have learned what it means to pray your heart’s desire, I have learned what it means to wait, and I have learned what it means to listen to God and follow His direction even when it isn’t what you planned.

When I think about what this day means I can’t help but be sad. I miss that little girl with every part of me. But I can’t help but rejoice also. Today marks one year that Abigail has been praising God in Heaven. She is safe. She is cared for. She is loved. She is living out her purpose. I don’t have to worry about her or be scared that something will happen to her. She is in the safest, most perfect place she could be and my Father is watching over her.

Today also marks the beginning of the hardest season of my life but the season that brought the most growth.  It marks the beginning of this journey through pain, desire, surrender, and waiting. Today marks the beginning of our healing journey. Today marks the beginning of our adoption journey. If  Abigail had not gone to be with Jesus we would not be adopting a child at this point in our lives. She is safe and sound in the Father’s arms so another baby can be safe and sound in our arms. I would still give anything to get her back but I wouldn’t trade the lessons I have learned and the journey we are on now.

December 9, 2011 will never be the same. It is a day marked with pain, suffering, fear, tears, and the beginning of new journeys. I love you Abigail and not a day goes by that mommy and daddy don’t think about you. Happy one year anniversary of the day you went home to be with Jesus. We can’t wait to meet you one day and spend eternity giving you hugs and kisses. 

Remembering 

Losing Abigail has been such a hard pain to deal with. I go throughout my day unsure if the person I’m interacting with knows of our story, of our baby who is in the arms of Christ. Part of me wants to shout it out for everyone to hear just so they know and so there is no more wondering. Part of me wants to speak of it only with those who I know understand and realize the deep loss.

We have prayed for wisdom on how to deal with the void that Abigail left and God has given us several answers. I have a great friend that has suffered the loss of two children much farther along in pregnancy. In fact, she delivered both babies who were born to Heaven. I admired her strength then but now it seems more like a miracle than any doing of her own. Through her immense pain she has chosen to bring hope to others who have experienced similar losses. 

As soon as she heard of our miscarriage she e-mailed and told me she was going to attend a special event in my life that was set to take place 3 days after we found out about our loss. I was to be ordained to the ministry of the Gospel at our home church the Sunday after the miscarriage. My dear friend made the trip to our town and was there to support me, us, on that momentous day. She also brought with her a bag full of helpful and comforting resources on dealing with miscarriage and infant loss.

In this bag was a snowflake ornament that we put on our Christmas tree right at the top.  It didn’t match the burgundy and gold color scheme as it was glittery white but I didn’t mind. It stuck out but I loved it.  Every time I looked at the tree I thought of Abigail. Some days that brought joy and other days it brought deep sorrow.

Also in this bag was a glittery white butterfly ornament. I had already thought that the butterfly would be a great symbol to commemorate her life. I love the 2 Corinthians 5:17 which says, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” I have always thought butterflies depicted this transformation well. So we have a flower arrangement that sits in our office that we change seasonally but the piece that never changes is Abigail’s butterfly.

We also bought a wind chime with a beautiful butterfly on it and we hung it outside our bedroom window on our balcony.  Every time the music plays I think of her. I think of her in the arms of Christ resting, praising Him, and enjoying His presence as He rejoices over her. I also think of what it would have been like to have continued to carry her, to see her on the ultra sound machine, to prepare for her, to buy her things, to hold her, to see her face, to rock her, to sing to her, to teach her about Jesus, to watch her daddy get wrapped around her finger, to hear her voice, and so many other things. I wonder if I will ever stop wondering what it would have been like to keep her. The same dear friend who brought us all of those comforting once said in her own blog that some days she feels like she has one foot here on Earth and one foot in Heaven. I definitely identify with that. There is a feeling that no matter what we do or even what comes next our family won’t really be complete until we are in Heaven.

On days that I feel like my arms are physically aching to hold her and it’s hard to make it through the day I start to think, “maybe it’s silly that I am hurting this much. I only had her for a few short weeks. There are so many others who have lost children much later in pregnancies or through their lives. Maybe I should be able to trust God more. Maybe I didn’t pray specifically or earnestly enough as we were trying or as soon as we found out.” My mind can spiral from all of those doubts and wonderings to all of my fears of the future.

In those desperate moments I have to remember the truth. I am hurting deeply because I love deeply. God created a life inside of me. She may have been very small and very young but she was still alive and she was still my baby. I have to fight the lies of the enemy that tell me that I should just get over it or blame myself or God for that matter. I have to fight his lies with the truth of Christ and His word which tells me that God is in control that He is working all things together for my good that He has good plans for me, that the desire for children is a holy one, and that He has never and will never let go.

God has used the short life of our baby girl to teach us so many things. I am sure I will go into more details on particular lessons in the future but one thing I want to share are the lessons He has taught us about grief. I’ve grieved before. I have gone through the steps. I have been in shock, denied, bargained, been angry, sad, and eventually accepted the loss. In fact I have been through that grief over losing my father when I was 18. I’m no stranger to grief, but God showed me something beautiful this time that I didn’t see in the past several losses I’ve endured. He showed me that He makes beauty of out ashes and that He wants us to face our pain and create something beautiful out of it.

I learned that I had to face the pain long enough to let it hurt; to let it sting so that I could see what God intended to teach me. I had to let beauty come from those ashes. I had to create something out of the pain. For me that took the form of writing, a lot of which you are reading right now and a lot of which are so tear stained that I’m not even sure what they say anymore. It took the form of music, dance, and nature for me. I sang a lot. I danced a lot. I enjoyed God through His creation.

For Dave it took different forms. Dave is very artistic and very good in my opinion. He has painted some beautiful things over the past few months as a release of his pain. He also wrote an incredibly sweet story titled Abigail’s Stocking. It is a children’s book that follows a family as they explain to their two children about the loss of their oldest sister who went to be with Jesus. It’s absolutely precious. He wrote it and illustrated it. I hope he will publish it one day. I think it would be helpful for families who have experienced a similar loss especially if they intend to explain it to their other children.

Our hope and our prayer is that through this pain and heart ache that God will be glorified. We pray that we will face the pain long enough to learn, to grow closer to Him and to each other.  We pray that others will be pointed to Christ through our pain. We pray that beauty will come from these ashes. 

The Point of Our Pain is the Point of Our Healing

While I know this was not God’s perfect will I also know He intends to bring good from it. I know that He wants to teach me many things through this pain and He already has. I would like to share just a few of those lessons that He is teaching me as He gives me strength to face the pain and uncertainty of the future.

The first and most difficult lesson is that I am not God and I am not in control. I can almost hear the collective, “duh,” as others are reading this. It is not like I had never realized that I was not God and that I was not in control but this was a deeper level of understanding of this lesson. From the moment I heard that we were miscarrying I have realized that this may be one of the first circumstances in my life in which I am really, truly not in control. Now I know that I am actually not in control of any circumstance, no matter how big or small, in my life. I realize that even when I think I’m in control that God is truly the one orchestrating and sustaining everything. However, I realized this was the first time that I could do nothing, that I had no hand in anything. 

When I looked back over other big moments in my life I definitely saw that God was in control but I still had some role to play, some job to do. This time was different. I could literally do nothing but rely on Him and trust that He knew what He was doing.

I am trying to put this lesson into practice every day as I wake up and surrender that day to Him. I had done this before the miscarriage but now it’s different. I think I mean it on a deeper level than I ever did before. It is the first time, at least that I can remember, that I really can only take life one day at a time. I don’t have the strength to look past today into tomorrow. I am beginning to understand the real meaning of Matthew 6:34, that tomorrow has enough trouble of its own.

I am also learning that it is far more about love than about trust. As the months passed by that we did not conceive I began to be consumed with the planning, with the desire, and with the fear. I realized that my whole relationship with God had revolved around my pain and desire for a baby for several months. I know that God wants to heal us and wants to hear the desires of our heart but it had become an idol in my life. As much as I didn’t want to admit it I needed to lay it down and repent. I had to ask myself, “do you love Christ more than Abigail?”, “Do you love Him more than the baby you desire?”, and “Do you love him more than Dave and your desire to have a family with him?” These were hard questions. Of course my heart and my mind said, “YES! Of course I love Christ more than all of these things and everything else too,” but my actions answered differently. I had to hand it all over to Him and I am learning that His love for me is all I need. It is out of His love for me and my love for Him that I even begin to trust Him. I kept trying to make it work the other way around. I would try to trust Him and create love from that. He keeps teaching me about His love for me and my love for Him. It is a hard, painful lesson but so worth it.  Verse mind controlled by the spirit is life and peace

The Lord also gave me a renewed compassion for the lost and an eagerness to reach them. I spend most of my days surrounded by Christians. I am a campus minister so the bulk of my job is discipling and counseling believers. This is definitely part of our calling, to make disciples. However, I often lose touch with the other part of our calling, to go. I get pretty comfortable in my Christian bubble and rarely venture out. The last time I led someone to Christ was at a worship service on campus. So even in that instance the person was coming into my world rather than me reaching into theirs. As I have been mourning the loss of our baby girl and longing to see her face and hear her laugh God has struck my heart. It is as if he was telling me, “See how much your heart aches to be with your child, that is how I feel everyday when I watch my precious sons and daughters live life without me. That desperation to be touch them, hear them laugh, and be in relationship with them is the pain I feel as I watch my children walk into eternity without me.” I got to see a glimpse of the Father’s heart for His babies. I have always seen God has Father but this was a new perspective. It broke my heart to think of how much He loves all of His children and how it must pain Him to not be in relationship with them. It made me want to bust my Christian bubble and get out there to help bring back my Fathers children.

In short, I am learning to release my all to God and just let Him have it. I am learning to keep my hands open and stop holding so tightly to my desires, even if they are from God. I am learning to cry out to Him every minute if necessary. I am learning to let God be for me what I can’t be for myself. I am learning to do what He asks us all to do, deny myself and take up my cross and follow Him. 

Holidays are Hard

At first I dreaded this day. I didn’t want it to come. I didn’t want to see all the cards, the flowers, the candies, and other gifts for all the mothers. I didn’t want to go to church and see the beaming smiles of the young mothers holding their precious babies. I just wanted the day to pass. 

It’s my first mother’s day and my baby isn’t here. This is not exactly how I thought this day would be. I envisioned myself about 6 months pregnant working on Abigail’s nursery or buying cute baby clothes. I never expected to be 5 months out from her passing celebrating this day without her. 

I have spent a lot of time reflecting this week and God has quieted my soul. He has reminded me of some powerful truths. He is in control and He knows what He is doing. I seem to forget that on an almost daily basis. He has also reminded me that He hears the deep cry of my heart to have a child.  I have felt Him so close whispering, “Just hang on. Keep trusting. I hear you. I’m holding you. I will provide. I have great plans. Don’t stop fighting. Don’t give up hope. Don’t stop pleading. I will give you the desires of you heart.”

I needed those reminders. I needed the extra strength for today. I needed to know that He hears me and that He loves me and that He knows exactly what is going on inside of my heart today.

I also want to remind any mothers out there who are celebrating mother’s day with empty arms that it is okay to feel exactly what you feel. You don’t have to put on a strong face or a happy face today. God knows the deep grief inside your heart and He knows that today is a day focused on women who have the very gift you desire most. He knows that hurts and He understands. I encourage you to let you emotions come just as they are. Sit with them for a while even though it’s painful and let yourself experience what you are feeling.  It’s okay, in fact it’s normal to be upset, sad, and hurting on a day like today.

Remember that you hurt deeply because you love deeply. That baby was yours for however long you carried it or even in the brief moments you may have gotten to hold him or her. 

Remember that you are a mother. You carried a life inside of you. 

I am a mother. I have a beautiful baby girl that is praising God every moment in eternity. I’m really proud of her. I’m really proud to be her mother. I am so very thankful that God chose me to carry her. 

I am a mother. I may have empty arms that never got to hold my baby girl. I may reach down to feel my stomach where she would be at 6 months in the womb and grieve that she’s not still with me.  I may not get to sing her lullabies, teach her about Jesus, dress her up in cute dresses, hold her tight when she is scared, kiss a booboo when she falls, or any of those things that moms do every day. But I am a mother. 

I am a mother. I love my child deeply. I think of her every day. I picture her rejoicing in the Father’s presence. I see her praising God with the angels. When I hear the wind chimes we have next to our bedroom in honor of her I think of her beautiful little voice singing to our Lord. 

I am a mother and while I am not carrying, holding, or raising my baby girl my Father is rejoicing because He is!

Due Date

August 13 was a day that we looked forward to more than any other. I remember looking forward to our wedding day with the same kind of excitement and anticipation. When we discovered that we were expecting a baby one of the first things we did was found out the due date. He or she was to be born on August 13. I know that statistically not many babies are born on their actual due date. Most of them are born a few days before or a few days after but we knew that our baby would be coming and August 13 was the day we were looking forward to.

Today is August 13 but our baby is not coming. She won’t be making her big entrance today. She won’t be taking her first breath today. We won’t be hearing her first cries today. We won’t be holding her in her first few moments of life today. We won’t get to kiss her today. We won’t get to hug her today. We won’t get to look at her beautiful little face today. We won’t get to swaddle her in a little blanket today. We won’t get to tell the nurses what we named her today. Dave won’t get to walk into a waiting room full of anxious family and friends to announce the arrival of our baby girl today. Abigail won’t be coming today. 

I have dreaded today. I just wasn’t sure how I would handle it. I knew it would be sad. I knew it would be hard and I simply didn’t want the day to come. I kept thinking of all the things I could do today that would make it easier. I could go to my favorite coffee shop and spend some time there. I could gather up some friends and go shopping. I could go hiking. I thought of countless things that really wouldn’t have helped ease the pain. I decided that I want to spend today praising my Heavenly Father and remembering Abigail. I want to honor Him as I honor her. 

To begin this due date I wanted to share a few of my journal entries. The first is an entry I wrote the night we found out that we were expecting a baby:

“Father, 

Thank you so much for the blessing of our baby. I am overwhelmed. I am excited, nervous, overjoyed, and terrified all at once.

You are so good God. I am in awe. You reminded me over and over these past few weeks of Psalm 37:4. You did just that. You showed me the desire of my heart and you have provided. 

What a gift Father. I am speechless and yet have so many words to say. We are so undeserving but so thankful. Thank you for hearing our prayer. We are overjoyed. You are so good. 

Help us trust you and hand everything to you. I’m so nervous about a lot of things but I desire to trust in you and your love. Please provide a healthy pregnancy and please protect our baby. Help him or her grow and be healthy. Help me and Dave to trust you in the middle of all the changes and excitement. Help us to be wise in all the decisions that will need to be made. Take our hands and lead us. You are so good.

I am humbled that you would consider us worthy to be a mother and father to the child you have created. It is incredible that you are knitting our baby together in my womb right now. I love you Lord and I am overwhelmed.”

This second entry is a letter I wrote to Abigail the night we found out about her:

“ We found out about you right before midnight. Daddy and I could not wait to take the pregnancy test to see if you might be here. So we took it late at night. We waited anxiously. We so hoped God would bless us with a baby but we wanted to be content with whatever His will might be. We got ready for bed and then checked the test together.

I grabbed it from the side of the tub and put my hand over the results window. I looked at your father and said, “Are you ready?” He nodded and I removed my hand. The test said PREGNANT!

We were shocked and excited. We held each other and laughed with excitement. We were both in disbelief. It was something we wanted to so badly but it seemed surreal, too good to be true. 

I will never forget the look on your dad’s face. He was ecstatic. He gasped in surprise. He has wanted you for a long time, we both have. We stayed up until 2:00 dreaming about you. We talked about you, your due date, how we would tell your grandparents and others. We read through some books on pregnancy to get prepared. 

We prayed and thanked God for His gift. We are so humbled to be chosen to be your mother and father. There’s no greater calling. We are so blessed.  We know that there are lots of changes and unknowns ahead but we know that God is in control, that He is provider, protector, faithful, and always near. We are putting our trust in him and his promises. He is knitting you together right now and we are in awe.” 

The third entry is what I wrote the night we learned that we had lost our baby:

“You were gone almost as quickly as you came sweet baby. We found out today that you had gone to be with Jesus. We really miss you baby but we know that Jesus is holding you in His arms. You were just too special for Earth. He wanted to keep you for the splendor of Heaven.

I long to see you, to hold you, to rock you. I long to love you and teach you so many things. We are separated only by the veil of Heaven and I can’t wait to see you one day. In the mean time know that Mommy and Daddy love you very, very much. 

You are very special to us sweet baby. We won’t forget you and we will never stop loving you. Mommy wants to give you hugs and kisses and tell you how wonderful you are. Until I can be there to do that I will pray that Jesus will do it for me.

Mommy loves you little baby and she always will. We will miss you and long to be with you.

Loving you from this side of Heaven,

Your Mommy”

The fourth entry was just some of my thoughts and heart cries to the Father that night:

“I was a mother for a brief time. I dreamed of holding my precious baby. I loved deeply and now I hurt deeply because she is gone. 

I rejoice because she is with Jesus but I mourn because she is not here with me. I know He is rejoicing over our little miracle but I miss her so badly and want to tell her how much her mommy loves her. 

Jesus, I really need you right now. I know you are faithful God. I know you are near. I know you love me.”

So, August 13 does not mean what it once meant to us. It does not hold the same joy and excitement that it did back then. But August 13 will always be a special day to me. I will always remember that my  precious Abigail was to be born this day but that her real birthday is December 11 when she went to be with Jesus.

So while I won’t be giving birth to Abigail today I still want to treat this day as a due date. I want to give the honor, praise, and thanks that is due my Heavenly Father. I know that He knows what He is doing and that He has a great plan. I know that He loves me and has never let me go. I know that He is taking care of my little Abigail until I get there. I also want to give the honor and remembrance that is due my little girl. She may have only lived a few short weeks but she made a lasting impact on her mommy and daddy. Not a day goes by that we don’t think of Abigail. She drew us closer to each other and closer to the Father. She is making us a better mother and father for her future brothers and sisters. She changed our lives. 

So, today is August 13 but our baby is not coming. She won’t be making her big entrance today. She won’t be taking her first breath today. We won’t be hearing her first cries today. We won’t be holding her in her first few moments of life. We won’t get to kiss her today. We won’t get to hug her today. We won’t get to look at her beautiful little face today. We won’t get to swaddle her in a little blanket today. We won’t get to tell the nurses what we named her today. Dave won’t get to walk into a waiting room full of anxious family and friends to announce the arrival of our baby girl today. Abigail won’t be coming today…because she is already home.

Thunderstorm

In the last 8 months since we lost Abigail we have had many hard days. Those kind of days that seem overwhelming and just too hard to face. I know that it is not healthy to hide from the pain or stuff it down in hopes that it might just go away so on these days I pray for strength from the Holy Spirit to face it and deal with it as it comes. About a week ago we had one of those really  hard, just too overwhelming, would much rather stuff it and go on days. 

We had been wrestling all week to overcome some sadness that had seem to settle on us. We, for several reasons, had just had a hard week. On Sunday we went to church as usual and had a great service worshiping the Father. I was feeling much better and refocused. I had asked God for forgiveness for letting the sadness and the whole idea of trying to conceive consume me. It had become an idol so I attempted to lay it down as I have attempted many times before.  After church we had meal. I was helping fill cups with ice when dear friends of ours told us that they were expecting. She was very kind about it and told us in a sensitive way. 

We have had many people share with us the news that they are expecting since Abigail passed. We have read many facebook status updates with the big announcement. We have ooed and awed over friends ultrasound pictures many times. We have even gone to the hospital a time or two to welcome a new baby and congratulate our friends.  Each time was hard. Each time we have had to smile and say, “We are so happy for you,” had been hard. Each time a friend asks, “Do you want to hold him?” I want to say no because it will be too hard but I gladly accept and look into the adorable face of her baby. Each time we hear the news of another baby on the way it is hard.

I so badly don’t want it to be hard. I want to jump up and down with them and ask them all kinds of questions. When’s the due date? Any inclinations as to whether it’s a boy or girl? Any names picked out? Any nursery ideas?  I want to tell them congratulations and that I am so happy for them without having to cover the pain in my heart. The truth is I am happy for them. I am grateful that they don’t have to walk the path we are walking. But in all honesty I am envious of the gift they have received. I know the Father’s timing is perfect. I know He has a great plan. I know He hears our cries and sees our hearts desire. I know the truth, but in those moments it is so hard to hold onto.

On this particular Sunday when we received the news that our friend was expecting I wasn’t able to keep the sadness and frustration in. We told them that we were happy for them and congratulated them. Dave even managed to stay present long enough to ask when the due date was and laugh and smile with the father-to-be.  I quickly filled my plate thinking I could make it. I kept telling myself, “You can do this. It’s ok. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Just hold on. Stay for the meal. You can break down when you get home.” Not the most positive self talk but it’s all I had at the moment.

I just couldn’t hold on. I ran to Dave and told him I had to leave. He gave me that car keys and said, “I am right behind you.” I walked briskly through the fellowship hall and up the stairs saying pleasantries to everyone I passed hoping they wouldn’t ask me why I was leaving. I made it to the car and it was as if every emotion I have felt since the day we lost Abigail was staring me in the face. It’s not like I haven’t dealt with it. I have. I have cried, screamed, yelled, prayed until my throat was sore, etc. But in that moment I was overcome. The flood of tears came and I could barely see straight. I knew that people would soon pass by the car and see me crying so I walked over to the driver side and began driving  close to the church so I could circle around and pick up Dave. I had no idea how he was doing but I didn’t want to leave him there if he felt even an ounce of what I was feeling.

As I was driving I kept saying, “It isn’t fair God. Don’t you see how it isn’t fair? We lost a baby and have been trying for 8 months for another. They weren’t even trying. It just isn’t fair.” The truth is that it isn’t fair. No one would listen to our story and say that was fair. But the reality is God never promised that life would be fair. In fact, He said that in this world we would have hardships but that we were to take heart because He has overcome the world. I know that truth but in that moment it just didn’t seem to stick. At a conference I attended a few years ago I heard Andy Stanley, Pastor of North Point Community Church, say, “Life isn’t fair. Fair stopped in the garden.” How true. Because we live in a fallen, broken world life isn’t fair. God sees the big picture. It’s not as if He has forgotten about us or overlooked our desire. He knows what He is doing and I need only to surrender. It’s incredible how much easier that is said (or in my case, typed) than done.

After I circled back around I picked up Dave. His face was dry so he obviously wasn’t reacting the same way I was to the news. When we got home I flung open the door, stomped upstairs and changed into something comfortable. I threw my dress down and tossed my heals. I’m making this sound much more lady like and poised that it really was. I was throwing and tossing things all over the place while screaming through the tears. I came stomping back down the stairs to check on Dave but he hadn’t came in yet. As I turned the corner to step out onto our patio I saw him beating a tree branch up against a strong, sturdy tree.

Through this hardship, as well as others, Dave and I have learned how to deal with our anger in a healthy way. Anger is the emotion that leads us to action. If you keep anger locked up inside it will start to manifest itself in your body. Anger is the emotion that comes with energy. You feel like you just can’t keep it in, you just have to do something. The beauty in this is that God created anger to do exactly what it does. It moves us into action. When I see injustice in our world I get angry. When I hear about children being abused or trafficked I get really angry. When I hear about women being battered and forced into the sex trade I get really, really angry. This anger is meant to move me into action. I can’t just sit by and let these things happen. I have to take action to help those in need. 

In the same way, our anger about our situation must be put into some kind of action. I can’t do anything to change our situation. I can’t create life. I can’t know God’s perfect timing. So, in this case, we just had to get the anger out and deal with it. Dave continued destroying that tree branch and I threw stray branches across the field as hard as I could. Then, still never saying a word, we walked to the front of the house. We stood there for a bit still steaming and I looked over at an old rocking chair on our porch that we have to repaint every year for it to withstand the weather. I looked up at Dave and asked, “Do you like this rocking chair?” He looked puzzled for a moment and then said, “Not that much.” I responded, “Do you want to destroy it?” He grabbed the rocking chair and we went to the back yard.

Our landlord has a pile of rocks (more like boulders) in our backyard. I’m sure he intends to use them to build something some day but we used them that Sunday to destroy a rocking chair. We each took turns beating the rocking chair up against the rocks. Dave would thrust the chair while screaming and I would retrieve it to do the same. The chair was just a pile of wood when we were finished. While we were destroying the rocking chair it started to rain. 

At first it was light and we barely noticed then it began to pour. After the chair couldn’t be beaten anymore we just stood there holding each other in the rain. It was really pouring at this point. We were talking but I could barely hear what Dave was saying over the sound of the rain. He held me tighter in that moment that I think he has ever held me. I cried for almost an hour as we stood in the rain. Dave just held me, stroking my hair. He attempted to shield me from the rain until he realized it was pouring too hard for that. We both shared what we were feeling. We talked about how frustrated we were and how the last 8 months had been so incredibly hard. We talked about how much we missed Abigail and how that day still plays in our minds. We talked about how she would be joining us soon if she had lived. We talked about how we long to be parents so much that it hurts. 

At one point Dave was the only thing holding me up. I had exerted so much energy dealing with the anger and had cried harder than I can ever remember crying that my body was just limp. Dave was holding me up in the pouring rain. I would try to look up into his eyes but the rain was coming down so hard it would sting my eyes. He would wipe my face as the rain drops mingled with my tears. It began to thunder and the trees were bending back and forth in the wind all around us. We stood there for at least an hour just holding each other.

After we went inside and dried off I began reflecting on that moment. While it was one of the most painful moments in our married life it was also one of the most powerful. We were completely real in the middle of our pain. Neither of us was trying to be strong for the other. Neither of us was reminding the other of truth we already know. Neither of us was trying to distract the other from the pain. Neither of us made excuses for how we felt. We simply were.

I also reflected on the power of God in that moment. I know He was right there with us holding us both in that thunderstorm. As tightly as Dave was holding me I am confident that God was holding us both tighter. It was a beautiful reminder that in the middle of a storm God is right there holding us up. In that moment we had no strength. He was our strength. It was also a great picture of the storms of life. It feels like we have been in a storm for a long time now. It feels like it’s been pouring rain and thundering for 8 months. But, just like the weather, our situation will change too. It won’t always be a thunderstorm. It won’t always be raining. Life won’t always be marked by this season. It will be sunny someday soon. There will be clear skies and maybe even a rainbow.

I pray for strength to hold on during the thunderstorm because I know God has sunshine in the forecast. I pray for the ability to be present in the thunderstorm because as much as it hurts it is really powerful. As scary as it can be, it’s awe inspiring. God is teaching me something in the thunderstorm. I pray that when sunshine does come and I’m staring at a clear sky and a rainbow that I won’t soon forget all that God did in the thunderstorm. As hard as this has been, and I expect will continue to be, I wouldn’t trade the love God has shown me. I wouldn’t trade the deeper intimacy I have with the Father. I wouldn’t trade the strength, joy, peace, hope, and perseverance he has given me. I wouldn’t trade the ways He has strengthened our marriage through this. As scary and as hard as it is, I wouldn’t trade the thunderstorm.

Knit Together

The past few months have sort of been a blur. Time feels like it is moving faster every day. I just changed my calendar to November today and it is already half way through the month.  I’m not sure what we are doing differently but I don’t remember being this busy before. 

Today I took a few seconds to slow down and think about what time of the year it is. I dreaded November because I knew it would bring up so many different emotions since this was the month Abigail was conceived last year but so far I have let those thoughts stay in the back of my mind.  I decided that it was time to bring them to the forefront.  Facing painful moments or hard memories is never easy but it is so necessary to the healing process.

I did not know it, but at this very moment last year God was knitting our sweet Abigail together in my womb. That verse, "Psalm 139:13, "For you created my inmost being; you knot me together in my mother's womb." 

has always meant a lot to me.  I have read it many times to remind myself of the truth that I am beautifully created by God and that I have a very important purpose.  I guess, not being a mother until Abigail, I didn’t think much about the meaning of the verse from the mother’s perspective. I always read the verse from the perspective of the baby being knit together as a reference to myself but as I read it now it has a whole new meaning.

God was carefully crafting her together. Every detail of her little body He knew and He had a purpose for. He loved and wanted Abigail so much that he chose me to be her mommy so He could create her life. He chose Dave to be her daddy. He chose my womb to knit her together. He chose 5 weeks to be her life span on this earth. He chose Heaven to be her home.

I know that the next few weeks will hold great significance for us. Each day brings a new realization that she was with us at this point one year ago. She was living inside of me one year ago. I did not even know of her at this point but I already loved her.  I look forward with humility to honoring her in the next few weeks as we mark a few anniversaries of her life and the beginning of her life in Heaven. I also look with sadness as each day passes. Each day I remember that she was being knit together by the great Creator at this very moment one year ago. I know He rejoices over her now and I am sure He rejoiced over her with every stroke of His creating hand. 

A year

One year ago today, December 9, 2011, we heard the words every couple fears the most. This is the day we learned that our little girl went home to be with Jesus.  I cannot believe it has been a whole year since we lost Abigail. It seems unreal to think that 12 months have passed.

I have wondered what this day would be like for a whole year now. Right after the miscarriage I envisioned us having a baby by this time the next year. I was just sure we would get pregnant right away. I just knew that within the next few months we would be expecting again and our baby would be with us by Christmas. 

After a few months passed and all we were expecting was another month of anticipation and frustration, I began envisioning a different path. I thought, “Okay, we will for sure be pregnant by this time next year, I just know it.” Each month I tried to have the hope that that month would be different. It eventually became clear that God had other plans for reasons we did not understand.  We are on a completely different path than I ever thought we would be a year from the day our baby went to Heaven.

I don’t want to recount every detail of that day as I have before in this blog. I have replayed parts of that day in my mind almost every day since it happened.  I can still remember all the details like what I had for breakfast, what I was wearing, which student I had just met with and the details of her meeting, the moment I saw the blood and began cramping, the phone call I made to David, the worried look on his face after he rushed home, the consoling tone of the nurse on the phone when we called the doctor, the silent ride to the doctor’s office, the way the doctor’s office was decorated for Christmas, the sad look on the doctor’s face when she told us the news, the tears that I couldn’t hold back, Dave’s strong grip clasping my hand in his, the walk from the office to the car passing several pregnant bellies, the hope and prayers that maybe she was wrong, the painful phone calls telling our family and friends, the drive to a trusted friend and mentors house to tell them the news, their hugs embracing us, the drive to my mother’s house, her embrace, her tears, my tears, Dave’s tears, a pain like I have never felt before.

As much as I try not to think about those details, they still run through my mind almost daily. Christmas time has reminded me a lot of her. Everything was decorated so pretty last year. All the trees in our house remind me of the pain of that moment and the moments to follow. The Christmas lights on everyone’s houses, the baby’s first Christmas ornaments, and the Christmas cards we received with pictures of happy families holding their adorably dressed babies.  It all reminds me of her and the pain of this day. 

There is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss her. Not a day passes that I don’t think of what it would be like to be holding her right now, snuggling her, kissing her, hugging her, rocking her, changing her, feeding her, looking into her beautiful eyes.  Over this past year I have learned more about dealing with pain and loss than ever before in my life. I have dealt with loss and pain prior to losing Abigail but this was different.

Over this year I have faced two of my greatest fears, losing a child to miscarriage and struggling to conceive. Before we even started trying to get pregnant I feared those things. Actually, before I was even married I feared those things. I would selfishly pray, “God, please don’t let that happen to me.” I just knew it would be too hard to handle, that I wouldn’t know what to do or be able to cope with it. I have learned through this experience that God can give you strength to face and cope with even your greatest of fears.  I have learned what it means to surrender your desires even when they are good and holy.  I have learned what it means to really face your pain, I have learned what it means to go on in the middle of a deep hurt, I have learned what it means to use your pain to help others, I have learned what it means to let God use a really hard season for His glory and purposes, I have learned what it means to grieve with your spouse, I have learned what it means to want something so badly it hurts, I have learned what it means to surrender that same thing you want so badly for God’s ultimate plans, I have learned what it means to be in intimacy with the Father, I have learned what it means to pray your heart’s desire, I have learned what it means to wait, and I have learned what it means to listen to God and follow His direction even when it isn’t what you planned.

When I think about what this day means I can’t help but be sad. I miss that little girl with every part of me. But I can’t help but rejoice also. Today marks one year that Abigail has been praising God in Heaven. She is safe. She is cared for. She is loved. She is living out her purpose. I don’t have to worry about her or be scared that something will happen to her. She is in the safest, most perfect place she could be and my Father is watching over her.

Today also marks the beginning of the hardest season of my life but the season that brought the most growth.  It marks the beginning of this journey through pain, desire, surrender, and waiting. Today marks the beginning of our healing journey. Today marks the beginning of our adoption journey. If  Abigail had not gone to be with Jesus we would not be adopting a child at this point in our lives. She is safe and sound in the Father’s arms so another baby can be safe and sound in our arms. I would still give anything to get her back but I wouldn’t trade the lessons I have learned and the journey we are on now.

December 9, 2011 will never be the same. It is a day marked with pain, suffering, fear, tears, and the beginning of new journeys. I love you Abigail and not a day goes by that mommy and daddy don’t think about you. Happy one year anniversary of the day you went home to be with Jesus. We can’t wait to meet you one day and spend eternity giving you hugs and kisses.