Saturday, October 27, 2012


On Thursday afternoon this week, I got an email from one of our pastors. He asked if I'd be willing to share some of our story during our annual Novembering (remembering lost loved ones) services next weekend. As in, during the main service. In our not-so-tiny church.

I said yes.

And then I felt like I was going to throw up for about the next hour.

But I knew as soon as he asked that it was something I needed to do. As I told him, any opportunity I have to tell our story and maybe help one person through our experience, it means that our babies haven't died in vain. That there is a reason for everything we've gone through in the last almost-year.

It's going to be a crazy weekend. The services are November 3rd and 4th. Last year, we found out Hannah had died on November 3rd and my induction began on the 4th. What a difference a year makes. We are also set to celebrate Hannah's birthday on the 4th, as well as attend a brick dedication ceremony where Hannah's brick is because we had one placed for Charlie as well. And then Monday is her actual birthday, and I'm sure I'll be a mess. Maybe I'll go to bed Monday night and, by the grace of God, wake up on Friday. Is that really too much to ask? ;)

Anyway, I'd greatly appreciate your prayers--right now, as I write out my story, for clarity. And next weekend, as I actually share, for peace and clarity. And that I wouldn't throw up, pretty much....

Monday, October 15, 2012

October 15th

In October, 1988, President Ronald Reagan proclaimed October as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, stating:

"When a child loses his parent, he is called an orphan. When a spouse loses her partner, she is called a widow. When parents lose their child, there isn't a word to describe them. This month recognizes the loss so many parents experience across the United States and around the world. It is also meant to inform and provide resources for parents who have lost children due to miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, molar pregnancy, stillbirth, birth defects, SIDS, and other causes."

The co-founders of decided on October 15th as a day where communities could better understand the pain of those grieving the loss of a child or children--a day to reflect on their pain and embrace them in love.

If you or someone you love has lost a child, you are invited to light a candle tonight at 7:00pm (in any time zone) for one hour to honor those lives lost.

All historical information given is courtesy of

Saturday, October 13, 2012

This is why

After an unfortunate run in yesterday with an anonymous comment on an old blog post, I came across this post today on Franchesca's blog. And it could not have been better timed. THIS is why I write. And it's why I don't just write about the pretty, comfortable stuff. Because grief isn't pretty or comfortable. It's messy. And unpredictable.

And so I'll KEEP writing. Just try and stop me. ;)

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Last year

My dear friend Amy coined a phrase that I find myself using a lot lately.

The ghosts of autumns past.

Normally the change in the temperature, the emergence of fall decor, and the too-early-emergence of Christmas decor/music/etc would be a welcome shift from summer. But now it just conjures up painful memories.

We're getting to the point in the year that, one year ago, our lives changed forever. So the next month is full of dates that were just normal days one year ago, but that will now forever be significant.

One year ago today was my 20-week ultrasound. We got to see our precious baby (choosing to keep the gender a surprise) and marveled at God's handiwork of tiny fingers and toes. Halfway to March 1! We ate a celebratory brunch at IHOP. :)

I remember a scrapbooking retreat, a girls' night out, a parent-teacher conference. And I was pregnant. Blissfully unaware that just weeks later, I no longer would be.

Halloween is probably the hardest day to think about at this point. That was the last time I really felt Hannah move. It was the last big event before the rest of that awful week unfolded.

And then my mind moves beyond November 5th. To the first surreal days of this new journey. To fitting into regular jeans way too soon. To picking up my daughter's ashes. To a trip to Duluth as a newly bereaved family. To surviving Thanksgiving. To dreading December and the happiness of Christmas. Because I wasn't happy. I was broken. And mad. And not pregnant anymore.

So what do these ghosts of autumns past do? They make me want to crawl in a hole. To put on my yoga pants and take a nap for about a month. To hide. To wallow. To despair. But really? That would just be giving in to these ghosts. These ghosts that have no authority to touch me in the slightest way.

So here's to not giving these ghosts power. Because I truly believe in the One who wants more for me than to dwell on how hard things were last year. One who encourages us to have hope in the future and believe there are bright days ahead.