October 15th

October 15th. Until last year, it was just another date on the calendar. Last year, it took on new meaning. October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. All around the world, at 7pm tonight, people will light candles to create a wave of light across the globe to remember those babies that aren't here with us. We'll light a candle tonight to remember Ella. Without anything tangible to hold on to, it's easy for let her memory fade. Lighting our candle tonight is one simple way to remember her, to acknowledge the reality of our sweet baby girl who lives in heaven. If you feel so inclined, help us remember Ella (and other babies that aren't here with us) tonight.

Conversations

I've had some interesting conversations with Brennan lately. It's been amazing to me that, a year and a half later, he remembers and still talks about his baby sister. We went for months without a mention of her, and then suddenly I've had three conversations with him about her in the last couple of weeks.

Watching coverage of the royal baby, Brennan suddenly asks me where baby Ella is. I have to answer that she lives in heaven with Jesus. That satisfies him.

Walking around our neighborhood this past weekend, a family hosting a birthday party gave Brennan and Owen each a pink balloon. As we headed home, Brennan turned to me and said that we were going to have a baby sister soon and her name was going to be Ella. Again, all I can say is that she lives in heaven with Jesus. This time, he asks why. No words. No answers. Just a tiny life cut short for reasons that we'll never understand this side of heaven.

Yesterday, playing with bubbles, the boys like to pretend that the bubbles go to heaven. Can Ella see them? Maybe. Then Brennan asks me what Ella looks like. Again, no words, no answers. I tell him that I don't know, that we'll find out what she looks like when we get to heaven.

Now, all these conversations have also given me the chance to explain, as best as I can to a five-year-old, how a person gets to heaven--salvation through faith in Jesus Christ. His heart is open, he listens.

Heaven. That place I never really gave much thought to for so long--just chalked it to that "someday" place I'll go when I die. Now it has become the home of our only baby girl. How I ever long for that home these days. We'll get to see Ella for the very first time and finally Brennan will have the answer to his question of what she looks like. He'll probably even get the answer to his question of why she died, if it will even matter once we are all together and reunited.

Life has moved on without her here with us. But the questions still linger. And we always point to heaven, to the One who called her there after such a brief existence with us. Heaven. Can't wait to get there for that wonderful reunion!

Firsts

This February is marked with several significant "firsts" for us, all related to Ella. A year ago, we began sharing the news that we were pregnant. A year ago on Leap Day, we found out that she had died. A year ago today (according to the ultrasound), she was born into heaven.

It's strange to reflect back on what life was like a year ago. She is never far from my thoughts and always in my heart, but I remember her today especially--this day when heaven became her permanent home. In some ways, it feels odd to mark this day since we had no idea that she had died. But in other ways, it feels perfectly right to mark this day, her heavenly birthday.

John bought me three roses yesterday. A red one symbolizing love for Valentine's Day. A pink one to remember baby girl. A purple one symbolizing royalty, a reminder that Jesus is our King and that Ella's forever home is in His most perfect Kingdom.

In the weeks following her death, I had bought a necklace off Etsy that said "Remember" on one side with a tiny footprint and birthstone on the other side. Recently I've found myself wanting to get something that represents all my kids. I found the perfect one for me and it came just yesterday. The boys were excited to see which one was "their" egg.

So...we mark this day and remember her brief, tiny life. We never forget our little amethyst who was in the nest for such a short time but left our lives changed forever. Happy first heavenly birthday, Ella. We love you and miss you, sweet girl.

Remembering

For you formed my inward parts;

you knitted me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works;

my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from you,

when I was being made in secret,

intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed substance;

in your book were written, every one of them,

the days that were formed for me,

when as yet there was none of them.

~Psalm 139:13-16

I face today with mixed emotions. Today was to have been THE day, the day we welcomed baby #3. Alas, God had other plans and called her home after she had only been part of our lives for a brief few weeks. Ella, our sweet angel baby who waits for us in heaven.

We think of her daily and miss her terribly. Today would be so easy to get caught up in what might have been, to allow grief and longing to swallow us. But today is a perfect time to focus thoughts on what lies ahead for us as believers.

The promise of heaven is so incredible. And it's one I didn't give more than a passing thought prior to Ella's death. Now, it's a promise I think of daily. I love to think about the people that Ella gets to meet. It brings me comfort to think that the very first Person she saw when she opened her eyes for the first time was Jesus. The very Voice that called her into being was the same Voice that welcomed her home just a short time after her creation. The Arms that made her are the same Arms that are holding her now. As much as I long for her and wish that she would have lived, I am fully aware of my imperfections as a parent. And now, she gets to be raised by the perfect Parent, the One who wrote the book on parenting! She is living in perfection, untainted by sin and this fallen world. When I think about heaven, I can't possibly wish her back from there. Heaven is her home, and it's our ultimate home as believers; we are "sojourner[s] on the earth" (Psalm 119:19). Days like this make me a bit homesick.

I'm so very, very grateful for the gift of Ella. Her life and death left us utterly changed. Part of me will always wish that God had chosen a different ending to this story. Losing a child, walking this road of miscarriage, is not one I ever would have chosen. But yet in the midst of the overwhelming grief and heartache, God met us in incredible ways. I continue to take comfort in knowing that God knows what it's like to lose a child. He proved Himself faithful over and over again in the days and weeks following Ella's death. I believe He'll meet us today as we remember our baby girl and remember all that lies ahead for us.

We expect a bright tomorrow; all will be well
Faith can sing through days of sorrow, all is well
On our Father's love relying
Jesus every need supplying
Yes in living or in dying
All must be well

~"All Must Be Well" 

Easter Weekend

Easter weekend was a full time for us! We had an extra full day with John since he had Good Friday off, which gave us tons of family time. We spent some time at the park, headed down to the James River one morning, had a great church time on Easter morning, and culminated our weekend with friends coming over for some fellowship and game time. 

We started a new Easter dessert tradition as well:  Empty Tomb Rolls. Brennan was so excited to get to help make them and it was a great opportunity to continue talking with him and teaching him about the meaning of Easter.

Both John and I felt the significance of Good Friday and Easter even more poignantly this year than in years past. Our recent loss has pushed heaven to the forefront of our minds. Instead of it just being a nice place we'll go when we die, there's simply a deep longing for a heaven. For me, ever since becoming a Christian, Good Friday and Easter have been significant. It's an amazing thought to think that not only would Jesus Christ take on human flesh, but that He would take on the sins of the world, my sins, so that I could live forever in heaven with Him. But this year, it has taken on a whole new depth. Because of Christ's death and resurrection, death was defeated and the way was paved for believers to enter heaven and gain eternal life. Because of His victory over death, my sweet little baby Ella is in heaven with Him (celebrating Easter with Jesus Himself!). Because of Jesus, the promise of heaven will one day be fulfilled in my life and I'll get to meet my precious little one for the first time. 

The promise of heaven is such an amazing one, one that has become far more real to our family in recent weeks.  So this Easter, we remembered and celebrated with greater depth Christ's death and resurrection, which secured eternal life with Him for us. Hallelujah! He is RISEN!

"And when I think, That God, His Son not sparing;

Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;

That on the Cross, My burden gladly bearing,

He bled and died To take away my sin.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art! How great Thou art!

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art! How great Thou art!"

Three Weeks On

We continue to grieve and move on, and grieve some more, and process all that's happened. Naomi and I read a book together called "What Was Lost" that was helpful, mostly in confirming we were on the right track. Last night we began a devotional book aimed at parents who've gone through this, and we expect this will be helpful too.

More about us in a minute...

It's been strange watching Brennan handle all this. Neither of us feels especially well equipped to help him understand this, in part because we don't really know how much he can understand at 4 years old. There have been little moments though that tell us that he has been affected by it. Last week he was playing with an older boy who asked him if he had a sister, and he said that no, she had died. Earlier this week he picked dandelions in the yard and gave them to Naomi, saying that they were for the baby (to replace the flowers we'd received from friends that had withered and been discarded). For the better part of a week he's been carrying around "baby monkey", swaddled in one of his blankets. He has a big stuffed monkey that has always been his favorite. Baby monkey looks just like it but is about 1/5 the size. He's never paid it much mind before, but now baby monkey is hardly ever out of his hands. These brief glimpses into his heart have been very sweet and heartbreaking for us.

We named our baby Ella, in large part because it contains the Hebrew word for God ("El") and she is our daughter with God. Her death has become a line of demarcation in our lives. I think of things in terms of B.E. (before Ella) and A.E. (after Ella).

Before Ella I was vaguely aware of the lack of suffering either Naomi or I had faced. We've had hard times and trials and lost some friends and relatives, but I never felt it was anything really life altering. Again, the key word here is "vague". I couldn't put my finger on what was missing, but I felt something was.

Now I know what it was. We've never hurt like this before, and in that hurt we've discovered a lot about ourselves, our God and the community around us.

Naomi and I have discovered a new level of intimacy. We've shared this whole experience. That's not to say we've experienced it the same way, but we've gone through it together and it's bonded us like nothing else.

It's also significant that we share a faith and that faith has led us to a God who is familiar with our suffering. He's a God who has also lost a child. He is a God who has promised to defeat death and put an end to tears. He did not cause this to happen, as some would say. It's just part of living in a fallen, broken world. Death was never the plan. Death came in through Adam and it goes out through Christ, when the time comes it will be done away with forever. All things will be made right. And on that day we will dance with Ella and hold her -- all that was lost will be found again.

This makes me long for heaven, and it has had that effect on Naomi too. I have to admit that, before Ella, heaven didn't hold an appropriate appeal for me. It sounded nice, but so did here. I liked earth. I liked life. I was in no hurry to move on. Heaven can wait. It can still wait, but it's different now. I will be patient, but I am eager and expectant. A portion of my heart was removed when Ella died, and she took it with her to eternity. I won't be whole again until I'm with her and our Lord.

This all feels right and good ... as it should be. We were meant for more than this world can offer. A part of our heart should be elsewhere, because this is not our home. It's so easy to love the world and to have the illusion of satisfaction in it. To fall out of love with the world is good and right and necessary, but not easy. When Ella died our love affair with the world died with her. I hope that it never comes back to life. In this place of longing for eternity, I want to stay until it is time for me to join her there.

How can others have this same feeling without the accompanying loss? Is that even possible?

The promises in Scripture about the new order of things and how the last enemy to be defeated is death came alive for me in the last three weeks. Similarly, many of the images of the church have too. Our community has been amazing. First and foremost are all the mothers who have suffered this kind of loss before us. So many have come forward to grieve with us and offer their compassion. And that's what it is -- compassion. They have suffered with us. So many, and most of them we had no idea about. Even if we knew they'd gone through one or more miscarriages, we just didn't think it was that big a deal. I guess nobody does until they go through it. It's like some kind of silent club. Only those who are members understand and they don't really talk about it with non-members.

One of my goals is to change that a little -- to bring some of this into the light and talk about it. I also hope and pray that God will allow us to be a comfort to those who will go through this, just as we've been comforted by so many who've gone before us. It's happened once already and it was such a sweet thing.

Our wider church community has also been wonderful. Strangers have brought us meals. We've been prayed for, encouraged, listened to. They've been silent when they needed to be silent and always had appropriate things to say when they spoke. They've been the love of Christ incarnate to us -- just as the Church should be. I am so grateful for this community, and our extended community of friends and family members across the U.S. and the world. We have been held up by many hands.

We have seen the church at work. We have seen the Word come alive. We have set our sights on eternity. We are more of what we are meant to be because of what we have lost.

Our hearts are broken, and yet full. We are full of sorrow, but also hope and, sometimes even joy. For we know what lies ahead and who: Ella, but even more importantly, the Maker of it all; the One who heals and restores.

To Him be the glory, come what may.

In Loving Memory

This is not the post I had planned on writing earlier this week. This is not the post sharing the joy we were experiencing over our upcoming arrival, D3. Instead, this post is a bit of our story through the grief and heartache over losing this precious one way too soon.

D3 was our little "surprise blessing", unplanned by us but planned by God. Finding out we were pregnant with a third was something of a shock, but once the initial feelings wore off, joy and excitement began to set in as we began to think, plan, and dream of what it would be like to add a new one to the mix. We told the boys who seemed to be pretty excited. Owen loved to lift up my shirt so he could look at my stomach and wave to the baby. Brennan seemed to think he could see the baby through my belly button and was disappointed when he couldn't!

Hormones started to kick in. Hunger and overwhelming tiredness were my constant companions. I never experienced morning sickness, which I thought was slightly weird, but figured it wasn't too uncommon. Both John and I had some niggling little feelings in the backs of our minds that we didn't want to talk about, so we didn't. Feelings like what if something happens? what if we miscarry? what if something happens or is horribly wrong? We didn't want to dwell on something that would likely steal away our joy, so we stuffed those feelings. We slowly started sharing our news with family and some friends. After some insurance delays, I was finally able to get in to the doctor the day before I turned 10 weeks pregnant. There were definitely nerves going in to the appointment (what if it was TWINS????). Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared us for what actually happened on February 29.

The ultrasound screen showed our baby, as clearly formed as possible for that early in the pregnancy. It's what it didn't show that rocked our world--no heartbeat. Excitement turned to unimaginable heartache in the span of seconds. We learned D3 died at 7 weeks, 4 days--February 12. Everything that happened next was a blur. We came home and tried to start picking up the pieces, knowing that our lives were changed forever by a baby that we had for too short a time, that we will not get to meet or hold this side of heaven. It rained most of that day. John wondered if it was like God crying with us. Tears flowed easily and constantly that day as we began to prepare for the next day.

Yesterday, I had a D&C to remove the baby's body and placenta. The medical staff prefer to use terms like "removing the fetal tissue" or "removing the remnants of conception" to try to depersonalize it and make it easier for us (or them). Bull. The ultrasound clearly showed a baby. They were removing our baby. It was a day I dreaded with everything in me. Even though we knew that D3 was in heaven, leaving behind an empty shell, it was still hard. It symbolized such finality. I went into the hospital with a baby in my womb and we left a few hours later with an empty womb, empty arms and a hole in our hearts.

The hardest part about it all (and what I've heard from so many others who have gone through the same experience) is that you are left with nothing tangible. Just a memory of a little one gone far too soon.

Because it was so early in our pregnancy, we have no way of knowing if the baby was a boy or a girl. We have come to a mutual decision that this little one was a girl. Brennan kept calling her "his sister" and John felt strongly that she was a girl. It seemed right to assign girlhood to this little one. We never could agree on a girl's name, so she is unnamed (although D3 is still what we call her). I guess whoever gets to heaven first will get to name her!

John and I have experienced a lot of ups and downs over the last nine years of marriage. But nothing compares to the ache of this. Prayers have been flowing as freely as the tears. We take such comfort in knowing that D3 is in heaven. Shortly after hearing the news, we remembered the book "Heaven is For Real" by Todd Burpo (about his son who went to heaven during an emergency appendectomy surgery and his experiences there). While Colton was in heaven, he met his sister, a little girl that was miscarried when he was too young to understand. That chapter has been a real comfort to us.

We have also been finding healing and comfort in music. A few songs in particular have been especially helpful. "Blessed Be Your Name" by Matt Redman:  we can say with our heads, but want to say with our hearts that "you give and take away, but my heart will CHOOSE to say blessed be your name". "Homesick" by Mercy Me:  "But the reason why I'm broken, the reason why I cry is how long I must wait to be with you". "I Will Lift My Eyes" by Bebo Norman:  "I will lift my eyes to the maker of the mountains I can't climb. I will lift my eyes to the calmer of the oceans raging wild. I will lift my eyes to the healer of the hurt I hold inside". "Untitled" by Plankeye:  a song written specifically about one of the band member's own experience with miscarriage.

Certainly Scripture has been a life line as well. Too many passages to count have been read repeatedly. For me, my go-to passage has been Psalm 121.

This path of grief, the emotional and physical pain and discomfort, is not one either of us would have chosen. We don't yet know how to navigate this journey. We have to guard against the lies of Satan:  that there is something that I could have done differently, that God is not good because He took our baby. God is not the author of death. He never intended for death to enter this world, to steal away unborn children. Rather, God is the author of LIFE. We believe that God grieves with us in our pain, even as He holds and cares for our precious little girl. She is safe in His arms, and because of Christ's death and resurrection, death has been defeated. We will see her in heaven. And what a day that will be! Getting to see Jesus and the baby we never knew. Until then, we will get through the grief. We trust that Christ will carry us down this path, one day at a time. We will never forget this precious little one. We love you, little girl, and we will see you and hold you one day. Until then...