I don’t want this to be part of my story.

I pride myself on being transparent.

I want you to see that behind every perfectly posed picture, there was a toddler meltdown. Or a snarky comment from my too cool for school five year-old.

Transparency is hard when life’s circumstances bring you to your knees.

Three months ago, Trey and I were toying with the idea of adding to our family.

We knew that three had always been our number, but we just didn’t think “now” was the right time.

I was so busy with graduate school, my own therapy, and I was still very much wounded by my grandmother’s recent passing.

On a whim, and without a thought of prayer, I texted Trey from school and told him it was my last day of ovulating and I wanted to try that exact night.

The rest is history.

I found out I was pregnant during a spur-of-the-moment movie night for my five year-old.

He invited two of his best buddies over. That actual night when we went to get pizza we were rear-ended by another driver while stopped at a stop light. Bless it.

I was shaken because I had someone else’s child in the car with me.
We made it to the movie store (with three children), picked up pizza, made a impromptu visit to Walgreens (for a pregnancy test) and headed home for our movie night.

It was utter and complete chaos in only the way two five year-old boys and one six year-old boy can make it.

…And of course, you can’t forget our Zoe was along for the ride.

As I recall that night, its so fitting that the night I found out I was pregnant, was a night of complete exhaustion and chaos. Oh, did I mention Trey was out of town for a testing trip? Well he was.

When he arrived home, it was a disaster.

I was so tired. I told him I had something to show him upstairs (he had bought be a new camera…that day actually… and I told him I wanted him to see the pictures.)

I videoed him clicking through the pictures and then stopping on one and asking if it was “fresh.”

Which sounds so odd and wrong on a few different levels. I told him it was, and we were both happy…and quite honestly stunned.

From then on though, the chaos continued. The pregnancy didn’t seem real. I was sick. So sick. And I cramped so bad.. Every. Single. Day.

It was unlike my other two pregnancies. I had zero time to relish in it. I had two needy children. I had wounded heart. And, I was in the midst of trying to become a counselor.
… this really seems like a normal time. I think I painted it in a prettier color than I should have.

——Let me be more real. These past six months have been the hardest of my entire life. And…I spent a good portion of my childhood wondering if my mom would live. So lets just say, I’ve experienced my fair share of challenging times.——-

When I say I had a wounded heart, it was more like shattered.
Needy children and a mom who really doesn’t feel like even getting out of bed.
Trey and I are only talking in the few minutes before one of us falls asleep at night watching TV.

This wasn’t a great time…for anyone.
I talked to my closest friends (who also are aspiring counselors) about how I so wanted a baby but I so didn’t love being pregnant. I even said that I felt that I wasn’t a great mother to my other children because I was so not myself with my pregnancy. I may have even said…”I don’t want to be pregnant.” Scratch that “maybe.”

I said it.

We had our eight week appointment (my actual first appointment) and we were told everything looked great. I remember hearing this voice in my head that said, “How do you know?”

Truthfully though, he didn’t know.
How could he? He had only done blood work and had asked questions.
I can’t fault him. That’s standard procedure for a first appointment.
We even joked about how we were the ideal patients because we were seasoned parents and knew what to expect…those were his words.

But truthfully, we agreed.

As time went on, things didn’t get better.

In life, with my body, with just everything.
I had planned a trip to Disney World, the happiest place on Earth, for the kid’s Christmas presents.

The truth is, that trip was for ALL OF US.
We needed a happiest place on earth vacation. Especially for all of the not happy we had experienced the latter half of the year.

We had Christmas.
The kids opened their gifts for Disney, and were so not impressed. At all. Insert EYE ROLL. AND COMPLETE ANNOYANCE FROM ME.
We headed to my parents’ house for Christmas Day and planned to stay a week with them and then we would drive to Disney World on New Year’s Day.

We did just that.
We had a “take it or leave it” Christmas (isn’t that how a holiday is after losing a loved one?)
We were just looking forward to Disney.
I had purchased an infant Mickey Mouse hat.
I pinterested the CUTEST Disney World baby announcements.
We just needed to get there.
Then we could announce our newest blessing (I really thought that once we announced it, it would be more real and we we would celebrate more and be so excited.)

Trey had planned to take me to Branson to celebrate my birthday at Top of the Rock. Roll your eyes if you must but Branson is one of our favorite places on earth. I love the cheesy. I love the JESUS signs. I love it all. But I didn’t feel good so I asked if we could just go stay in Branson in a hotel and have room service. He obliged and we left the kids with my parents.

We had a yummy dinner in bed and watched The Office.

Truthfully, it was on the TV, but we didn’t like the commercials so we watched it on the iPad but also left it on the TV as well. What can I even say? The Office is my favorite.

I cramped all night.
I barely slept.
Oh…I forgot to mention that a few days after Christmas and after a three mile run, I was spotting. But not like a ton. Really…barely any.
I texted friends, I asked by OB nurse friends, I called my doctor.

They all said it was completely normal and to just take it easy.

New Years Eve, I woke up and just knew I couldn’t drive all the way to Florida and not know if everything was OK. After calling my doctor and our insurance, we decided to drive THREE HOURS back to KC for a sonogram. And don’t even get me started on that… I could have just went to the ER in Springfield but per my insurance, if they didnt code it as a “medical emergency” we would likely be paying thousands. And…my doctor’s office didn’t think it was even really an issue.

One nurse even called me back when we were on our way and said, “Hon, I really hate for you to drive all the way back up here for nothing.”

But I knew.
I knew what every mom knows when something isn’t right.
It wasn’t normal.
Maybe cramps and spotting are normal for other mothers.
But I’ve had two kids. This wasn’t my normal.

So away we drove, three hours home.
The anticipation was eating holes in my stomach.
We talked about how it was nothing and we would just get to see our sweet baby before we left for vacation.
I wanted to believe those things.
I just didn’t.

We got to the office and waited for what felt like years.
I saw pregnant woman after pregnant woman dance out the doors with their healthy pregnancies.
And my heart broke. Because I knew the news we were going to hear.

We walked into that sonogram room and my heart couldn’t do it anymore.
The tears started rolling down my face.
The ultrasound tech, bless her. She tried to calm my fears and tell me she was sure it would be fine and she sees this kind of thing all the time.

I laid down on the same bed I had laid down on for my other two healthy babies.
I used to love that room.
I loved seeing their sweet faces.
Dreaming of what they would look like.
How their voices would sound….

When I laid down for my third pregnancy…all I felt was fear.
A few minutes after she started the sonogram, we saw a sac and a baby.
Since this isn’t our first rodeo, we knew instantly it wasn’t right.
I was supposed to be ten weeks pregnant.
We should have seen a very obvious baby.
Instead we saw a baby the size of a bean.

She tried to remain optimistic, and asked about the dates…were we sure?
Oh yes. I was sure.
I can tell you the exact day of my last period.
I can tell you the days I ovulated.
I can tell you the day that sweet baby was conceived. With absolute certainty.
My math, while in all other things is questionable at best, is absolutely perfect in this instant. It was a math equation I desperately wished was wrong.

Even more so, there was no tiny flicker of a heartbeat.

You know how you read these stories?
You watch them on Lifetime?
You hear women say that they could see it as if it was a movie?
That’s exactly how I felt.

I wanted to plead with her to be wrong.
But I said nothing as the tears flowed so freely down my face.
That screen that once showed my sweet Landry and my sweet Chloe alive and healthy, are now showing me my sweet baby that is no longer alive.

She asked to do a vaginal sonogram.
I obliged, knowing all the well that she wouldn’t be able to see a heartbeat with that one either, and she didn’t.
Through tear filled eyes she told us she was so sorry.
She left to get my doctor, and Trey and I lost it.

How is this real?
How?
We have TWO healthy children.
TWO healthy pregnancies.
I’ve gotten pregnant each time we have tried.
Zero issues.
HOW IS THIS HAPPENING?

The rest is really a blur.
Trey called my family, and his as we waited for the doctor.

Well…a doctor. Mine was in surgery.
A doctor came in, explained my options, and told me this was common.
I chose to do it naturally because I wasn’t about to cancel the kids’ vacation. (You know, the one they were so excited about. HA!)

We cried all the way home (FOUR HOURS HOME, THANKS INSURANCE!)
Then, at 5am on New Year’s Day, we headed to Disney World.

I can’t even begin to describe the torture it is to carry a baby inside of you that has been dead for weeks.

I was starting to look pregnant.
My body FELT pregnant.
My body thought it was pregnant.
My body didn’t know my baby was gone.

How had my body failed me so badly? I was so angry with my body. So angry. And also with myself. How could I not know my baby was gone?

That night, on the way to Jacksonville, I had a fit in the front seat of the car.
A silent (ish) kind.
I couldn’t get too crazy, because the kids were in the backseat.

Oh, and my twelve year-old nephew.
But I rocked back and forth, cried ugly cries, texted my family and closest friends, and I gave each one of them strict orders to pray to God without ceasing that I miscarry that baby right that second. I needed to be free from this torture. How would I experience one ounce of joy in the HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH carrying around a baby that was gone? HOW?

They all replied they would pray.
I prayed.
Trey prayed.
I BEGGED GOD. Please Jesus, don’t make me be pregnant for one more day…
I know that me melting down in that seat was probably the hardest things Trey has ever experienced. It was a sight. I am sure.

I didn’t miscarry that day. Or…ever.
We went to Disney, and I put on the happiest face I own.
It hurts my heart to look at those pictures of me. Because all I see is deep sadness.
Don’t misunderstand, I had a good vacation.
I really thank God for His timing.
I don’t know how I could have survived that without that distraction. Truly.

Chloe’s face when she met the princesses, and Landry and my nephew’s faces when they saw the rockets at NASA. All of it was pure DISNEY (and NASA) Magic.

But the nights were filled with deep hurt and tears.

At Disney,
There were pregnant girls galore.
What I didn’t foresee was the stabbing pain I felt in my heart every single time I saw one.

It wasn’t jealousy. It was deep deep sadness.
Because, by all accounts, I looked a bit pregnant myself.
So that was a whole thing, how do I look not pregnant? Even though I am? But I don’t want to be? But I do, just not with a baby that’s gone. Agony.

When we made it home, I scheduled a D&C.
Which really was a whole process all on it’s own.
The nurses lines are enough to drive a preacher to drinking. Bless it.
But, thankfully my doctor had already had it in the works for that week.

I asked the surgery center about two things of the utmost importance.
1. Can we please have a second ultrasound. I need it. We need it.
2. What about my eyelashes? You’re going to tape my eyes shut. I have extensions, these are all that is holding my sanity together.

She called back to say that my doctor said that if I needed another sonogram, they would fit me in that day. And…she would personally speak to the anesthesiologists about my eyelashes.

We dropped the kids off with our neighbors/dear friends and headed to the ultrasound. I wondered if I was torturing myself. Why in God’s green earth would I go back to that horrible place? On the actual EXACT day ONE WEEK ago they told me my baby was dead? Why? And see all those blissfully ignorant pregnant women?

…I used to be them. Blissful and ignorant of all of the uncertainties that pregnancy brings. Oh, to be them…

But, my pro-life brain couldn’t wrap my heart around the “what if they were wrong”? How could I possibly abort my baby?
Maaaaaybe this is God’s way of doing a miracle.
I believe He can.
I was even brave enough to whisper that thought to Trey when we were minutes from the hospital.
He said, he actually had been thinking the same thing…

Listen, before you call and try to commit me to the psych ward, know this…
I’m not just some girl.
I’ve seen the Lord perform miracles HEALING miracles.
Personal Healing Miracles.
Had I had some oil, there’s not much that would have kept this half Assemblies of God, a pinch of Baptist, and a smidge of Pentecostal from using it…
He can do it.
I just wasn’t sure if that would be my particular miracle.

And I knew even IF he didn’t, I would still love and serve Him.

We made it back to that dreadful room.
The ultrasound tech was the same sweet lady from one week before. You know…the one that cried? And said that she would pray for us.

She told us they asked her if she could stay late and when she heard who it was for she said,”I told them I would stay until 6:30 for you. Anything you need.” What a sweet soul.

She confirmed what we already knew.
Our baby was gone. We couldn’t even really see him.
Yeah, him.
We always thought the baby was a boy. His name would have been/is Knox.

She hugged us and told us she would continue praying for us…and that soon we would be back and we would see a healthy baby on that screen. Oh those words were sweet to my aching heart. We left that day with closure.

The next day we woke early and dropped Chloe and Landry off with a friend.
We drove to the surgery center in silence.
We checked in and I was sent back to get a gown on.
And I just felt peace.
I wasn’t scared. Or worried. (Except for my eyelashes. I must admit that.)
Everyone was so kind.
Every person told me they were so sorry for our loss. They were so sorry that we were there.
From the front desk receptionist all the way to the anesthesiologists.
Such kindness. I will never forget that.

As I sat in bed and waited for Trey to come back, I talked to him.
It’s a weird place.
I knew he was gone.
He was in Jesus’ arms at six weeks and three days.
I went almost my entire first trimester with a baby that was already in heaven.
But I talked to him, nonetheless.
Because, we wouldn’t have a funeral.
I have no pictures.
I won’t get to hold his little body.
And I never had the real chance to say goodbye.

So, I told him I was sorry.
I was sorry for not being excited and cherishing his sweet little life.
I was sorry for saying I didn’t want to be pregnant. Because I DID WANT HIM. He was so so wanted.
I was sorry that I would never hold him in my arms, hear his cries, his laughter, his voice. I would never rock him, or hug him, or kiss him.
He wouldn’t meet a sister and brother who were so excited to play with him.
He would never know how good of a daddy he has.
Or how crazy his mama is.
And then I said goodbye. And I thanked him for letting me hold him for as long as he did.

It’s been pretty awful.
God’s been here though.
He’s wrapped us in his arms and we have felt his overwhelming presence every second of this horrible road.
I’ve come to know a closeness with Jesus that I haven’t felt in quite some time.
I’ve learned that I can do hard things.
I can do anything for my kids…even faking a smile at Disney World when all I want to do is cry.
I now know the pain that so many moms have walked through before me and sadly, will walk through after this.
If you don’t understand, let me tell you, it is devastating.
It doesn’t matter at what week the baby died. It is devastating.

Trey put it best when he said, “it’s like a piece of us died.”
A piece of us did die.

I would love to tell you I didn’t ask God “Why?” But I did.
I would love to tell you I didn’t get angry with Him. But I did.
I would love to tell you that I have zero fears about future pregnancies, but that would be a lie.
I would also love to tell you why this happened. What was the meaning in all of this?

You know, my absolute favorite thing people say….”God does everything for a reason.”

If you’ve said that, let me take a moment and lovingly tell you to stop saying that.
It’s not kind.
It doesn’t help.
Quite frankly, it makes the bereaved person want to stab you with a fork.
Just kidding…kind of.
But seriously. Don’t say it anymore. From a bereaved mother, and granddaughter, and now an almost counselor…it goes on the list of things NOT TO SAY.

Because, God didn’t do it. That’s Satan. So… lets get those two straight.

Did God allow it? Yes. That is true. But it still doesn’t make it hurt less.
In fact, what it does is invalidate that person’s feelings. As if because it is something God allowed we aren’t supposed to be sad about it. We are.

So instead say, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” That’s really all you have to say. There’s nothing you’re going to be able to say to make it better. So just don’t try.

I’m writing you tonight to tell you that it’s ok to not be ok.
It’s ok to ask God why. He can handle it.
You’re not the first Christ follower to ask why and you certainly won’t be the last.
God can also take your anger.
It doesn’t mean you don’t love God.
It doesn’t mean you don’t trust Him.
It also doesn’t mean you have no faith.
It means that we live in a fallen world.
A broken world.

We need to stop being so “religious” and start being real.
When we are going through tough times lets be honest with our feelings.
Instead of smiling through tears and saying “God is good all the time..and All the time God is good.”
Yes. He. Is.
But sometimes, life isn’t good.
And its ok to feel your feelings.
Just give them to Him.
Take him along for the ride.
I have. My heart still stings. The tears aren’t dry. I don’t suppose I’ll ever stop grieving my sweet Knox.
But I know Jesus knows my pain.
And He’s been here every step of the way.
Through all the crying, screaming, and questioning. He was there. And He was loving me.

I was talking to a sweet friend of mine today.
She shared her heart and I shared mine. The sweetness that comes from real friendships like that are certainly Heaven sent.
We talked about how it is plausible to be both near to Jesus and also to feel such agony.
It’s something that I am not sure you can find in the Bible, but I know that its true because I am walking that line right now.

He’s sitting beside me. He comforts my heart, and yet it still aches.
And I know, as someone said to me, my grandma Jewell is holding my sweet baby Knox in her arms right now. I remember commenting how sad I was that this baby would never know her. How ironic is it that she is the only one who does?

I never wanted this to be part of my story. But it is.
I am now 1 in 3.
And if you are, I am praying for your heart sweet girl.

ALSO…MY EYELASHES WERE OKAY! PRAISE BE TO JESUS!