We lost another


I struggled with whether I should write this. It’s been eight months since my last personal blog post and perhaps such a depressing topic is not the best note on which to launch myself again. Yet, here I am. This is part of me now. It’s a strange reality to have a child you’ve carried, but never met. We have four children, two living.

We were traveling to see family when I had my first clue I might be pregnant. I have always been super in tune with my body, even to the point of knowing the day, time and from which side I ovulate. So, when the headaches started and the weird motion sickness sprung up, I knew it could be a possibility.


Still, a couple of weeks passed before I felt I should test. But, there it was, plain as day…two thin, pink lines. We’ve done this enough times now that I know what I’m looking for! There’s no doubt. But, because I’m a born skeptic…eight tests later….we’re pregnant! It’s not news we were trying for, but it was completely welcomed and celebrated and absolutely embraced. I decided, since it would be our last, this time I wanted to document breaking the news to Brent. The reveal went so perfectly and I will forever be grateful to Tiffany Nicole Photography for keeping that very HARD secret with me for two days in preparation for our family portraits. It was the sweetest. Our BABY was coming! Our baby. Our third addition was so, so loved. Charlotte patted my belly and asked if the baby would get bigger, because right now, in my tummy, it was far too little to share her room. Such joy.


And then it started. I clinched and sat so still and willed it not to. I prayed and slept and prayed some more. I drank gallons of water and begged God not to take this child; to let me be one of those rare women who just bleed throughout their otherwise completely normal, uneventful pregnancies. For several days, in pain and sorrow, I felt her slip further from me. I couldn’t save her. Lord knows I tried. Please, God…. not again. WHY, again? We were content with our two precious blessings. Why give us another child, only to take it away? Again? Wasn’t this pain enough sacrifice the first time? I can’t do this again. I WON’T. Please, please don’t make me watch my husband crumble at my feet. Please don’t make me so, so angry with you. I love you. I LOVE you.

It happened anyway. Our baby is gone. All that is left of my daughter is that thin pink line on the stick. So many tears, so much grief. To lose a child is the deepest of wounds. I know our baby is resting the arms of the Holy One, but I can’t help struggling with the question of ‘why?’ I may never know, I suppose, but I do know I am supposed to rejoice in my Lord through ALL circumstances. 1 Thess. 5:18 says, “give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” I would be lying if I said that was easy. In fact, I would be lying if I said I had yet THANKED God for any of this. I WANT my baby. But, I am thankful I have two beautiful, healthy, living babies. I am thankful I am blessed with a Godly example of a man as my partner in life. And, I suppose I am thankful that my two heaven-bound babes never have to suffer the pains and evil of this world. Maybe THAT is the blessing in all this. Maybe I can see it all more clearly when I’m not so mad. And sad.

I’ve also experienced once again the saints that walk among our circle. A meal, when I hadn’t the emotional strength to choose chicken or fish, was medicine to my soul. A beautiful bouquet sits wilting in my window right now because I don’t have the heart to remove the LOVE it represents. Words of encouragement, even when not easy to hear, and a good cup of coffee served with a dose of dark humor…these are the tiny glimpses of God’s kingdom that lift up my heart to the reality of His glory. I know He loves me…even if it all makes no sense sometimes. Thank you, each of you.

I love you, baby girl. You and your sister. I miss you both everyday. You will be loved and celebrated and acknowledged here until the day I get to meet you face to face. Take care of each other for me, will ya? I love you.




  1. I feel like you are writing my story. We literally did this @ Jett’s 1 year photos…. announcement pics, “family of 3 pics,” the works. Thank you for being so real! I feel your pain, I know your loss, I pray for the faith to stay the course and trust the plan! Xoxo <3

    • MommyCrunch says:

      Oh, Megan. I am sorry. I am so heartbroken that anyone should know this pain. I know the reasons are divine and someday maybe it will all make sense, but while we are here, thank you for the prayers. I will pray for and with you, too.

  2. Becky Phillips says:

    I’m sitting here bawling my eyes out for the pain you and Brent have suffered. I so wish we lived closer so I could comfort you in the way only a mom can comfort her adult child. I know you always have Brent, your soft shoulder, and I know you want to crawl in hole and make the world go away, but if you decide you want me near to hold you, hug you, and tell you how much I love you and I’m proud of you – in person – I’ll be on a plane with the next heartbeat.

    I, too, am so sad not only for you, Brent, Charlotte, and Griffin, but for the rest of these baby girl’s enormous extended family who live all over the US, who will never get to meet them either, until we join them on a final road to Heaven some day. There is just nothing sweeter than a new grandchild to hold, kiss, and spoil, unless just possibly a sweeter gift is the understanding from one mom who’s lost a child talking to another mom who’s lost a child. Maybe, just maybe, God has big plans for you in the empathy department for other mom’s who are suffering. I truly believe God helps us turn our mess into a message, and our tests into our testimony. You have a powerful one, and a wonderful way with written words. Listen for the little God Breezes where He’s trying to tell you what He wants you to do with this.

    I love you so much it hurts sometimes. Mom

    • MommyCrunch says:

      I love you, too, mom. Thank you for hugging us from afar. I think the pain gets swallowed up in the rhythm of the everyday and it’s hard to reach out. Writing this was therapeutic for me. I hope it was to someone reading as well. I am praying someday the purpose will be clear. I love you and I will see you soon.

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