A year ago today, I had no idea there was a little life growing inside of me. I went about my day the way I would have any other day, not knowing that in just a few days, that little life would no longer be growing. A year ago today, I sipped on coffee, sat down at my computer, and worked my little fingers. I probably complained about the laundry not being done. I had Christmas things that I was behind in. I was ridiculing myself for not being a better mom. I’m sure I snapped at my kid once or twice. And after the day was done, I sat down and couldn’t wait for bed time.
A year ago, I didn’t realize how all of life could be put into perspective for you with just a few little words—you’re having a miscarriage.
Life is a gift. Whether it’s a 100 year old grand parent or an unborn 5 week old child. And sometimes, we don’t appreciate those gifts enough….until they are taken away from us.
I remember waking up that morning and knowing something was wrong. There was something wrong with me, even my husband knew. I could not function, I couldn’t even take care of my child without the fear of passing out from loss of blood. It was time to stop “toughing it out” and head to the Dr. It’s the words I wasn’t expecting, and yet I was.
I was embarrassed, a mess. The Dr. had no doubts about what was happening, and yet I doubted it. And yet, I knew it was the truth. I shook my head and agreed with him, said thank you with dry eyes, paid my bill, and walked out the front door. My husband and child sat waiting in the car for me, because honestly, neither I or my husband thought it would be what is was. You see, we had been trying for well over 2 years for another baby, and in our minds, it just wasn’t “happening”.
I sat down in the vehicle and let out a deep breath. He looked at me and said, “so, what’s wrong with you.” I didn’t answer, fighting back tears, not wanting to have to explain myself to a 5 year old who wouldn’t understand. A 5 year old who had been praying for a sibling for over a year.
“Babe, what’s wrong with you?!”
I fully expected the words to come out very calmly and unwavering—I’m good at holding it together when most would fall apart—but it was just the opposite. I lost it. I completely lost it…for only the second time in front of my husband in our entire 10 years of marriage. I had absolutely no words except tears and agony. I eventually whispered a quiet “I was pregnant”, and his arms couldn’t wrap me tight enough.
The next day I was slightly in denial. How could something I didn’t even know about be ripped away from me so quickly, and hurt so badly. I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to have known about this new life, only to have it ripped away weeks later. For that, I was so extremely grateful. But the denial set in. I even stopped that morning and took a pregnancy test—but why? How stupid was I? A very very faint line showed—almost non-existent. As if I could see it fading away. It was all in my head, it had to be. I tossed it to the side.
But it wasn’t all in my head. And my attempt to not “deal” made it even worse. This was real, this was happening. Husband had moved on with his life, his emotions. Men don’t deal like women do. My 5 year old was oblivious to it all. And there wasn’t much time to think about it between work calls, emails, homeschooling, finger painting, and chickens.
I’m not sure I fully understood the extent of what was happening until I received a card in the mail from a very sweet friend just a few days after the diagnosis. She still, to this day, probably doesn’t even realize how much that card helped me.
I cried.
I cried like a baby and everything that was still left inside of my heart from the previous days just poured out. I held that card so close to my heart, as tears soaked it. No one could have said it better—no one could have connected with me better in that moment than her.
….and I came to the first paragraph that read, “…it’s ok to grieve.”
I promise you, it is. It was as if I was waiting for someone to say it to me, and yet no one would. Until her letter came. And then so did the grief….because, after all, it’s ok to grieve a life, no matter how small.
I came across her card today as I was cleaning my dresser off. It has stayed in its envelope, hidden away in between some of my favorite books on my shelf. I pulled it out of its envelope and read it again. It didn’t hurt as bad this time. There were a few tears, and a few smiles. She has a beautiful baby boy of her own now—her grief was limited, but her grief helped me grieve. I held it close to my chest and closed my eyes, and I thought of what a testimony moms like us are to the world.
You cannot understand unless you’ve walked through it. You cannot help another unless you share your own story. And you cannot share your story if you have not fully encased it in the love of Christ.
I thought of names we had picked out for our babies, whenever we may have them. In fact, my mother-in-law had just asked me a couple of weeks ago what names we had picked out when we were pregnant with my son—he was destined to be a “III”, but Emma Grace was our choice for a girl…
I flipped the card over to the front to see the cover, and I smiled once again, closing my eyes, and tears streaming. As I’ve been making my 2016 goals and resolutions, I realized something….
this year, 2015, has been my year of grace.
There have been moments when I’ve been stressed or upset, and life just settles into place before the outburst. Little tiny moments of grace have been sprinkled all over my life this year. Tiny fingers and toes, I imagine, touching my heart and reminding me of the most important things in life.
…moments of Grace…
Without this story I couldn’t share it with you. Without the hurt, I couldn’t understand. Without those little moments, I couldn’t have a testimony through the heartache. I am so much better now than I was. I have grown and loved more than ever before. The grief taught me to love even harder than before. The grief did not last long, though it took a piece of my heart with it. But the hard moments, they are easier now….and grace has never been more abundant. And what better way to teach someone grace, than to show it to them.
Whatever you’re walking through….whatever you’re hurting through….there is grace.
When you don’t know how to make it through, how to deal with it…..there is grace.
When you feel like a failure, or when you realize you haven’t been the best you can be…..there is grace.
…and even when you did’t know it was there…..there is grace.
![I almost cut the audio on this one.
But I left it. Because somewhere in the middle of making pretty reels and instagram-worthy things, in the middle of daily tasks and work and homemaking, in the middle of you scrolling, trying to escape into someone else’s “real”, there is a holy thing happening right where you stand.
This is where wisdom gets passed down. Where memories are made. Where ordinary children become kingdom ambassadors.
The “in between” moments—the ones that feel like interruptions—are the most teachable moments you will ever be given.
When little voices ask the same question for the hundredth time... when little hands climb into the middle of your project and you feel inconvenienced... those are not the moments to rush past. Those are the moments they will remember forever.
So I’ll ask you what I keep asking myself: How did you make them feel today? How did you explain real life to them? Will the way you answered firm up their foundation, or shake it?
“Impress [these words] on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” [Deuteronomy 6:7]
Did you catch that? At home. On the road. Lying down. Getting up. The in between. That is the classroom.
Parenting is not the thing you do once the rest of life is finally organized and perfect. It is the thing you do first. It is the most important work happening in your home.
So slow down. Take a deep breath. One day these little voices will be gone, and you will remember the moments you let pass you by.
Don’t let them pass, friend. Turn around. They’re right there.
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