This is not my home...

When we have a heart's desire, and it is so close to becoming a reality that we can almost tangibly feel it, it cuts deeply when it fades away and the answer is "No."
We all have a choice in that moment. we can choose to live in bitterness and anger, full of doubts and resentment; or we can feel all those things and still find something to be thankful for. My choice? To be thankful for the moments I did have with my babies. I am their mommy forever now, and though their time was short here on earth, I am honoured to have been given that time with them. Did I feel this way right away? Did I want to make this choice? No, it took me some time to be able to do it, even though I knew it was what I needed to do. The hurt was too deep and raw...
Am I glad I chose that? Yes. Without a doubt, yes. I don't think I would be where I am today without looking for something to be thankful for. I have found joy again in little things. I find that when I specifically look for things to be thankful for, I can see sunshine again. I feel more at ease, and the weight I carry in my heart is not quite so unbearable. 



I read this blog today.
Hormonal Imbalances - When God says No...

It brought back many emotions and memories of how I felt after the miscarriages we have had. After reading it, I felt God confirming in my heart that when I chose to be thankful even when it hurts, I am making the right choice. No matter what the difficult circumstances are that you are facing, no matter what your heart's desire is that has not become reality yet, there is One you can turn to when you feel hopeless. He will give you strength when you have none, hope when you are hopeless, glue when you feel like life is coming undone.


Here is a beautiful song...I love the line, "What if your blessings come through raindrops, what if your healing comes through tears."


The pain reminds me that this is not my home...

Blessings - Laura Story


We pray for blessings
We pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
All the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

We pray for wisdom
Your voice to hear
And we cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough
All the while, You hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe


'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

When friends betray us
When darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It's not our home

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can’t satisfy
And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights Are Your mercies in disguise

Mother's day with a new view

Can anyone really expect to recover from such tragedy, considering the value of what was lost and the consequences of that loss? Recovery is a misleading and empty expectation. We recover from broken limbs, not amputations. Catastrophic loss by definition precludes recovery. It will transform us or destroy us, but it will never leave us the same. There is no going back to the past, which is gone forever, only going ahead to the future, which has yet to be discovered. Whatever that future is, it will, and must, include the pain of the past with it. Sorrow never entirely leaves the soul of those who have suffered a severe loss. If anything, it may keep going deeper..."

~ Jerry Sittser


I Look To You - Selah
Tears fall as I hear this song tonight. When all my strength is gone...


What is my future? I have pondered this thought a lot lately. So many new adventures that excite my heart are ahead of me. For those who don't know, I took my Postpartum Doula training in fall of 2011. I just finished a Babywearing Educator course last weekend and at both of these events, I met so many amazing women! In summer I will be taking my Labour Doula training and then in fall of this year I plan to take my Baby Loss Doula training.
All three of these doula trainings will work together very nicely. I have found quite a deep passion for and am really looking forward to being a Labor doula; however my heart's cry is supporting women through baby loss. I don't know what that is going to look like in my neck of the woods, but time will tell.
In the quote above, Jerry Sittser says, "Catastrophic loss by definition precludes recovery. It will transform us or destroy us, but it will never leave us the same." So, what will I do with my "beautiful mess?" (as I have heard this life after baby loss called)


My heart is forever changed, inside and out by my children. I will never look at pregnancy and birth the same way as I did before my losses. I will never look at a newborn baby the same. I have learned not to take those moments for granted because when you have to try to fit a lifetime of love into a moment, an hour, a day, a month, a year or even 3 years, it is an impossible task. There is so much that feels as if it is left unfinished, and can never be fulfilled here on earth.
Oh what I would give for one more hug, one more kiss on her little head, one more moment of time...
I laid in bed with my four year old while tucking him in tonight and watched him fall asleep. He had been kind of wild all evening because he was so tired. It took only moments for him to go to sleep and I laid there feeling his sweet breath against my cheek, watching the fluttering of his eyelids as he drifted off.
There is almost nothing on earth like watching a sleeping child. A child who, only minutes before had been driving you crazy with his silliness, now lays before you almost angelic. His cheeks flushed and his hair tousled from a day of playing, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. I put my hand on his chest and felt the flutter of his little heart, a heart that once beat in my womb, and I am convinced still beats with mine sometimes. How peaceful he looked. I leaned in and whispered into his ear, sweet murmurings of a mother's love. I thanked him for being here. For making it. How did he do it? Why couldn't the others? Hot tears splash the pillow. How very thankful I am that my life has been made so rich by my three children with me on earth.
Now Mother's day is almost upon us again. My heart breaks for so many mommy's I know that will not be holding their baby's on that special day. I know that pain and that longing...I also know a peace and a hope that never fail.
The end of this month, May 31st, marks my due date with Judah. My heart yearns for those moments of my body straining to bring forth new life, and then when that is over, nourishing a tiny, perfect being.  I literally dream of what those moments feel like. These tears are brought back afresh sometimes as ones close to me are due around that same day, and I am happy for them. To see the joy and wonder on their faces as they gaze at their newborn who smells so sweet, there is nothing else like it. 
Sometimes I get angry that loss taints so many areas of life. Sometimes I wish I could say I was spiritual enough, or strong enough or even oblivious enough to not feel the pain, but it is there. I feel it and learn from it daily. This pain has value in my life, only through choice. I have chosen not to let it destroy me. I have so much to learn about this life still, but in the meantime, I will use what I know and what I have experienced to help others. I will sit and get muddy in their puddle with them and show them that there is hope. Even when we don't feel it yet, there is hope.  Our babies stories have been heard and read by many and I will keep sharing about them. It is the only way that I have of being their mommy right now. I will honour them by keeping their memory alive.
So my angels, while I celebrate Mother's Day here on earth with your brothers and sister, know that my heart eagerly awaits the day when we will all be together again. I love you more than words can express Asa, April, Kane, Zoe, Ellie and Judah.

Strong? No, not on our own...

I lost my child a while ago. No, no please Don’t look away
And change the subject or say It’s ok.
You see at first I couldn’t feel, It took so long, but now it’s real.
I hurt so much inside you see. I need to talk, Come sit with me.

You see, I was numb for so very long, And people said, “My, she is so strong.”
They did not know I couldn’t feel, My broken heart made all unreal.
But then one day, as I awoke I clutched my chest, began to choke,
Such a scream, such a wail, Broke from me..My child! My child!

The horror of reality. But everyone has moved on,
You see,everyone except for me.
Now, when I need friends most of all, Between us there now stands a wall.
My pain is more than they can bear, When I mention my child,
I see their blank stare.

“But I thought you were over it,” Their eyes seem to say--
No, no, I can’t listen to this, not today. So I smile and pretend, and say,
“Oh, I’m ok”.But inside I am crying, as I turn away.
And so my old friend, I shall paint on a smile, As I have from the start,
You never knowing all the while, All I’ve just said to you in my heart


I did not write this poem. I am not sure who did so if you know, please feel free to comment with the author's name.
Twice in the last while I have experienced this awkward silence from a friend, which made me think of this poem.
A lady we know came up to us and asked about how our children were. I said they were fine. She asked how old they were now. I rattled off their ages, Jinaea 9, Jaron 6 and Kyler 4. She said, "And how about the baby?  Where is your baby?" 
I cringed inside as I said, "No, our baby was stillborn last summer." Awkward silence, she looked away, both of us trying to figure out what to say next... I guess the last time she talked to us for any length of time, we were about 18 weeks pregnant with Zoe and happily awaiting our next ultrasound to find out if she was a boy or girl.
Then a friend we had not seen in a few months stopped by our house to visit. About half an hour into our visit, this friend looked at me smiling and asked, "So, how are you feeling? How is the baby doing?" I told him quietly that I had lost the baby in November. First there was shock, then embarrassment on his face as his smile left and he looked down. He quietly said he was sorry and the rest of the evening, for the most part, he avoided eye contact with me. I did not cry this time. Any other moment lately, tears seem just under the surface and can spring up at any time, but that night, I didn't.


When my father-in-law passed away, I remember hearing people criticize my mother-in-law for not crying at his funeral.
I remember others saying how incredibly strong she was and we were to hold it all together during the funeral and the days and weeks following. The truth is, she was not strong, and neither were we.
We had cried for days beforehand and we were utterly exhausted. We had no more tears left. 


That is how parents are after the loss of a child too. Sometimes we just have nothing left. We have no strength on our own. The only strength or appearance of strength we show comes from our Heavenly Father. In our weakness, He is strength for us. Yes, there are even moments of peace in the midst of the pain and disbelief in reality. 


I can now laugh and smile without feeling guilty most of the time. I cry less now than I did in the days surrounding the losses, but the pain is not gone. I have not "moved on" or "gotten better." It is impossible because this IS my life, my reality. It may be messy at times, but mine has become a beautiful mess. A mess of hurting hearts joined together to encourage and support and cry with each other and God is helping us to bring beauty out of pain. I have met people in the last year and a half who have become very close to my heart after just one conversation or meeting because of the common ground we share. They are precious to me.


If you are a grieving parent and your heart feels completely shattered, I would like to encourage you that joy will come again. You will feel alive again. I pray you will come to a place where you can feel peace about where your loss has brought you in life and that you will take steps to move yourself forward again.  There is no moving on and leaving this mess behind. We can, however choose to look for the things we can be thankful for through the tears and keep walking. One step at a time. Somedays one step is all we can do, and that's ok! There are people out there like myself who have been there. I may not know you personally, but that doesn't matter. There is a kindredness in our hearts because of the losses we share. My heart is here to listen if you need it and my virtual hugs are always abundant. 
There have been many times I have felt I had nothing to offer because I didn't even feel strong enough to stand myself. I was the one reaching out. Now I reach out my hand to you who are hurting, because in my weakness, He is strong. 

A beautiful quote I read tonight:
‎"Only we who have been washed in the blood of the Lamb can both weep and laugh at the same time, and with hearts that are breaking in pieces scattered all over the floor say with sincerity and honesty that it is well with my soul."
~ Gary J. Oliver