August 11

August 11. The due date of our first baby. A day that's come to be a hard one these past three years. If I can be real honest, it's a day I always find myself wishing I could have given birth to the little love we called “Baby B.” & upset because I didn't -- that's something I wrestle with from time to time. I felt robbed of that experience, of meeting him face to face, for so long. & sometimes still do. I would like to share with you a letter I wrote to Baby B  in grief counseling. I have lately forgotten just how healing writing can be.

"Lord, life can be hard, we are so fragile...all of us one breathe away from eternity.  We forget until tragedy comes and we are reminded how we are all like flowers of the field.  And yet you love us, you value us.  You gave your life for us, but you also allow us to be broken.  How do we make sense of that?  Where is the beauty in the shattered pieces?  We want you to make something lovely of our lives, but more often, it is more like a mosaic beauty out of a million broken pieces than the flawless work of art we imagine.  So help us Lord.  Give us strength in our brokenness.  Let us say with Job 'though he slay me, yet will I trust him.'  Is there a harder prayer to pray?  I do not know one.  Come to us, take our pieces, use them for your purposes until we see, as you do, the beauty in the brokenness."

In the 16 weeks I got to carry you in my tummy and even since then, my love for you has grown beyond my wildest dreams.  I had never known a love of this kind, the love of being ones’ mommy.  On Thanksgiving morning of 2013, I learned of you.  My sweet baby that I had prayed for since I myself was a little girl. 

Thanksgiving Day seemed like the most perfect of days to find out I was expecting you.  Your daddy and I laughed and we cried, we held one another on the bathroom floor giving thanks for you.  Our hearts felt so full.  We have loved you from the beginning, sweet Baby B. 

And though we never got to hold you in our arms, you have blessed us so.  Not a day goes by that we don’t think of you.  You have changed our lives.  And I believe the lives of others, too.  Several weeks after you left this earth, I began writing about you.  Our story of joy and of pain, of thanksgiving and heartache, of hope.  

It was my prayer in sharing the story of you, and of your siblings that have since followed, that another mommy and daddy grieving the loss of their little one would be reminded of the hope we have in Christ.  To know that they are not alone.  That God knows their hurt and that He cares.  I truly believe that.  And it is what gets me through.  That and knowing that one day, we will be together again. 

My mailbox and inbox have filled with letters of praise for your life.  When I first allowed others to read my journal of you, I had no idea how God was going to use your story.  I just felt lead to share.  It breaks your mommy’s heart to know of other families who hurt and long for their baby(ies) like your daddy and I do.  But the ways in which your story has encouraged others makes me so proud.  You are so special.

The happiness you have brought me is unlike any other.  And the pain I have felt since I miscarried you is also unlike any other.  There are moments I really struggle.  Though I know I’ll be seeing you, I also feel robbed of getting to spend today with you.  And yesterday.  And the day before that.  I feel robbed of getting to experience giving birth to you.  I never had that chance.  Of kissing you and holding you.  Of your first cry, your first bath, your first smile, your first coo.  And the cries, baths, smiles, and coos that would have followed.  Of singing to you and tucking you in your bed.  Of watching you crawl and walk and play.  There are many special moments I feel I am missing out on.  Big moments and little ones. 

I think, too, about what you look like.  I feel almost certain you are a handsome boy like your daddy with his dark curly hair and big brown eyes.  He likes to say you probably look like me.

Losing you and your two little siblings has been difficult.  It’s frustrating.  It makes us sad and sometimes angry.  We don’t want to be in this situation.  We wish we didn’t have to mourn your loss.  To miss you.  Yet we trust in God’s plan.  And are thankful for time we had with you here.

Not a day goes by that we don’t think about you.  That we don’t wonder what you would have been and done in this life.

Thought we sadly never got to see you outside of the womb, we know we’ll get to meet you face to face one day.  In eternity.

So while I long for you, I know you’re in the greatest place.  When my heart feels heavy, I try to remind myself of this. 

You get to spend your every moment with Jesus.

I cannot think of anything sweeter.

I love you, Baby B.

Love,
Mom

It was laid on my heart after our first loss to share my story. I haven't logged a post since 2015 though, when we announced our pregnancy with Evie. The words just haven't flowed. I haven't felt creative for some time. I haven't felt led to write. 

But today I was received a phone call asking me to write for a women's ministry twice a month (more on that to come). & of all days (totally a God thing), I feel inspired. & I have been reminded that the good Lord has a purpose in all of this. A plan. That His will WILL be done.  I'm not sure where this blog is headed, but I promise to write more frequently.  You all have been such a big part of my story!  My praying friends.  Friends that have shared stories of hope.  Friends that have blessed me by asking that I pray along side them on their own journeys -- navigating loss, heartache, infertility, ivf.

Despite the sadness, the longing, the "what ifs," I've sought to rest in my Savior's arms today. To trust & believe. He has carried me SO FAR. & so when my heart is aching or when worry for the future creeps in, I will remind myself that He has a plan. & I will sing to myself "Thy will be done." 

Thy will be done.

As we pulled up to the memorial garden where our Baby B's ashes are buried this day a year ago, those very words played over the radio. Hillary Scott (of Lady A) wrote "Thy Will" several years ago after she & her husband suffered a miscarriage. 

"I know you hear me

I know you see me, Lord

Your plans are for me

Good news you have in store

So, thy will be done."

Talk about a much needed reminder. Then & today.

His plans are FOR US. Even when we don't understand, when we struggle to make sense of it.

He hears us. He knows of our hurts. He sees us on the difficult days. & He cares. The Lord has a big, beautiful plan for each of us, sweet friends. Hope you can rest in that truth today.

xo,

Sarah