Sacred Sisterhood

A few months back Lucy asked for a picture of Maggie for her room, so this weekend while our boys were away we set out to find her a frame.  Psalm 139:14 says, “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Maggie was a thriving, growing baby girl for the 8 months I carried her inside.  Never were there any red flags to indicate anything was amiss during my pregnancy.  The night she was born she looked so much like her siblings—a tiny 2 pound version with similar sweet features all perfectly placed and beautifully formed.  Our doctors believed a “cord accident” had been the reason we lost her at 31 weeks.  Without any warning she was just gone in a moment and our lives were changed forever. 

Lucy has been having such a hard time for the past several months. Bedtime is a particularly tender time where her thoughts come tumbling out. My heart has broken all over again watching Lucy process a piece of her family, her heart and her story without ever even meeting our Maggie girl. Sobbing after we have read the stories and said the prayers and soaked in the snuggles each night as we tuck her in.  Sobbing because of how far Heaven is, how long we will have to wait to see Maggie again, how her big brothers have each other and mom and dad have each other, but there’s no one just for her.  Sobbing because she’s worried her friends won’t believe that she has a sister, too, since they’ve never seen her.  Deep, heart-wrenching sobs as she names each little friend that has a sister to play with and dress up like and fall asleep next to, but all she has is pictures and stories, blankets and loveys and tiny hand and footprints belonging to her sissy.  It’s a new layer of grief that is all her own, and my heart hurts SO much for the pieces of our family I cannot put back together for her here.  When my words fall short and the tears keep falling, I hold her longer and pray that God will be ever so near to my Lucy girl and the parts of her story that feel so incomplete. 

So many times in life we don’t get to see the full picture.  There are giant question marks looming over deep, broken hurts that take a lifetime to wade through.  Grief WITH hope is excruciating, but I can’t even imagine grief WITHOUT hope.  Eternally thankful for a Savior that took our place so that we may one day have the wholeness, the peace, the complete picture and the sweet HOPE that Heaven holds.  Magpie, your girls are missing you extra today.  We’ll meet you There.


>> October 15th | Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. 


Seven is our number.  Seven of the most celebrated, sacred pieces of our story.  Adam and I have been given 7 precious, wanted, beloved new lives, and every other one was called back to our Savior.  Two miscarriages and our Maggie Girl born so still at 31 weeks.  I know so many sisters, near and far, with their own stories of loss.  Some are spoken, others remain silent.  Some have weathered years of anniversaries, for others the hurt and aching arms are new and heavy and raw.  My heart breaks for you, sister, and the loss you have endured.  And my heart HOPES with you, sister, for the steadfast promise of the sweetest reunion with our babes one day.  Much love to the Mamas that carried, the Daddies that mourned, the Brotherhoods and Sisterhoods that would have been, and the Dear Ones that rallied to carry, cry alongside, acknowledge and remember.


As I sit here and write this there is a sweet baby girl wiggling inside of me, her movements growing as she does.  We are in the homestretch now, with just a matter of weeks left.  


Four years ago today in the early morning hours we held our Maggie girl for the first and only time this side of Paradise.  

It was the last way we pictured meeting our baby girl.


Though my eyes are red, my cheeks tear-stained and my heart heavy, I am so very thankful to serve a good and faithful God.  A God that weaves redemption into torn tapestries and brings new life to help bind up deep wounds. A God who sent His son . . .

". . . to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
    a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor."

-Isaiah 61:3


Joy instead of mourning.

A garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

We are missing our first precious daughter with fierce longing that will not cease until we hold her again in the sweet company of our Savior.

You are so dearly loved, my sweetheart!

We will meet you There...


When our two older boys started Kindergarten and 2nd grade this past August, I decided to take a step back from the things that pulled me away from them.  While I continued to capture the moments that framed in the day-to-day of our life, and jotted down the things I just couldn't bear to let slip out of my memory, I struggled to think much further than home.  With hectic schedules and new routines, my three little boys needed me more than ever, and I had more processing to do than I had words to explain. 

This past July we said goodbye to another precious baby. 

After months of waiting and hoping to see that pink plus sign, we were thrilled to finally watch it appear, and wasted no time sharing our news.  Elation and joy took a sharp turn 7 weeks in when we found ourselves once again questioning, unraveling and asking why God would say "yes" only to say "no" just weeks later.  Hopes raised sky high and sent crashing to the pit once again.


Six pregnancies.

Six new beginnings.

Six of the best moments of my life spent staring down at a flicker of hope and anticipation contained in a faint pink line, and we have said goodbye to every other babe.

3 precious lives here.

3 waiting for us There.

And 1 . . .

growing inside.

While we count ourselves extremely blessed to wrap our arms around the three wiggly boys we have been fortunate enough to take home and do life with every single day, it grieves us immensely to have 3 children that we have never had the privilege of knowing.  Whether at Week 6, Week 7 or Week 31, a lost life aches deeply, and the holes in our family where they would be are each profound. 

I could not wrap my mind, heart and body around the loss of our sweet baby this past summer.

 I feared my still-tender heart was not strong enough to survive another blow.

I had words with God. 

Harsh words.

Desperate words.

Familiar, hopeless words.

New wounds erupting, old wounds stinging fresh once again.

I am so thankful for these four sweeties.

I cannot imagine walking the emptiness without these little boys who bring such fullness to my life, my beloved Adam who bears the load when I cannot and grieves alongside me, and a Father in Heaven that holds my precious babies just as tenderly as He holds me. 

In the midst of the darkness and unraveling, we learned we were expecting again. 



While no other life could ever take the place of our Maggie girl, we serve a God of REDEMPTION, and I have been deeply soaking in the warmth and beauty of this new life we've been given. A piece of our Maggie's legacy carried on in the life of her baby sister.  The months have not passed without anxiousness, hesitation and fear.  Satan would love nothing more than to taint this precious joy with crippling worry and doubt.  Some days the battle is harder than others, and his lies speak louder than the Truth that I know is sovereign and good.  It has done my heart inexpressible good to be trusted with the privilege of a second sweet daughter.  It has been such a joy to watch my husband rejoice and soak up the sweetness, and look on as our sons overflow at the chance to be big brothers to another precious sister.

Such a gift.

Such an honor.

Such a delight.

We are preparing our hearts and our family to begin this new chapter, and let words of sweet praise fall often from our lips.

Thank you, Lord, for this life!