Tag Archives: remembering babies

Dear Daughter

Dear Daughter of Mine,

This month you would have turned 4 if you were born on your due date. There are so many things I wonder about how you would have been at this point in your life.

What would be your favorite color? Your favorite food? Would you have a best friend? Would you prefer to go to the library or the park? What would be your favorite TV show? Your favorite song? Would you like to sing or dance?

How would you have been as a big sister to my little Sam? Being the oldest, I can already assume you would be a little bossy if you were anything like I was as an older sister. Would you be trying to teach him words and colors?

I miss you, baby. Every year, I see little girls born around the same time you were supposed to be born and I wonder how similar and different you would be. It seems time just keeps moving without you here, but you are very, very missed. Both you and your sister are very, very loved and missed. I think about you both all the time.

Your brother will know who you are. He will grow up with the reality of his two big sisters. He will know that you love him, because I’m sure you do.

Baby, mama loves you. I know you and your sister aren’t alone. I know you are being surrounded by family and being held by our Creator.

Big hugs and kisses to my precious girl today. Hug your sister.

Love you always,

Your Mama.

Deuteronomy 4:9

Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them fade from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.

Deuteronomy 4:9

The last five years in our family have been quite a ride. We experienced unexplained pregnancy loss over and over again. Disappointment. Isolation. Pain. And then, last year, a pregnancy that ended in a perfectly healthy baby boy.

And the honest truth is that there is a part of me that wants to forget the last five years. All the pain and heartache just put away on a shelf. Door closed. Never mentioned again.

But not only would that dishonor the memory of my two daughters, but it would dishonor what God did in my life as well. God walked beside me the whole way, showed how my pain had a purpose, how I could use my disappointments and grief to show compassion to others walking the same path.

I want my son to know that when he meets disappointments in his life, when his expectations aren’t met, that it doesn’t change his worth or value in God’s eyes. That the God we serve doesn’t forsake us, doesn’t leave us, but instead guides us and whispers hope into our hearts. That being still and slowing down are important skills.

It’s part of the reason I’m writing my book. To remember. To honor. To have something solid to point to when I’m telling my son the story of his sisters and a God who will always be there.

Remembrance Day 2018

This month is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, and this Monday, October 15th, it will be Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  In 2016 and 2017, Michael and I have spent this day with the pregnancy loss community in a balloon release.

This year, we won’t be participating publicly, but we are going to light our candle on the day.  At 7pm CST, we plan to light a candle for each of our daughters to remember them.  This is the time set aside for all loss families to light a candle and remember together, no matter where they are.  I would encourage you to light a candle and remember with them.  It means so much to have my daughters remembered.  And I know I’m not the only one who feels that way.

If you are a loss mom or dad, you are loved and your children are loved.  You are not alone, and we grieve with you.

My Birthday


Next week, I will turn another year older.

When I entered my 30s, I was excited.  I felt like I was leaving so much of the pressure to perform, to meet the expectations of society as a 20-something.  And I did.  But now that I’m well into my 30s, I realize that I merely swapped those expectations for new ones.  However, I’m definitely more sure of myself than I was in my 20s.  And I know what I like and I don’t like, and I’m not afraid to try something new without having that need to do it perfectly the first time.  I’m learning how to switch off the people pleasing filter in my brain when making decisions.  It doesn’t work every time, but I am learning and I am okay that I’m learning.

A couple of weeks ago, it dawned on me that next week, I will be ten years older than my mom when she had me.  Now, to be fair, when I was ten years younger than I am now, I was engaged to be married, and I would only be married for six months, and I’m really glad that I didn’t get pregnant that first year of marriage because I had way too much growing up to do.

But the idea is not lost on me that time is slowly ticking away.  I will soon reach the “every pregnancy is a high-risk pregnancy” age.  Though to be fair, considering my history, every pregnancy already is a high-risk one, but there are just so many statistics out there that get scary.  On the other hand, I haven’t really been living up to the regular statistics anyway, so who is to say I’m going to start doing that anytime soon?

And even though I feel more in tune with myself, I have acquired more of a hesitation and filter on the things I want to say.  Partially, because in the moment, my brain is usually just jumbled with an incoherent word knot that only unravels as I leave a situation.  Partially, because I realize that motivations and intentions of others are always more complicated than I thought they were.  Things have become grayer to me.  I am slower to judge a situation or a person because I know I will never have all of the facts.

And even though these first years of my 30s have been wrought with pain and loss, there is so much I’m grateful for.  I am grateful for the friendships that have developed here in Dallas, and here in the blogosphere.  I am grateful that I have a husband who has become the breadwinner so that I can heal and hopefully someday get pregnant again.  I am thankful for the tasks God has given me – with the Alzheimer Walk, the SPCA, Hope Mommies.  I am thankful that he turned my sorrow and grief into a ministry, a place I can shine His love and joy into the dark nooks and crannies of infertility and pregnancy loss.

And it’s not perfect, and never will be this side of eternity.  I’m learning to lean on God when I feel isolated and alone.  I am learning that I don’t have to be the best or have all the attention or be first to have value.  I am learning that I don’t have to have a lot of feedback in order to make a difference in someone’s life.   I’m learning to embrace my limitations and live within boundaries, and that neither one of these things makes me less than anyone else.  And even if someone wants to think of me as lower than them, I am learning not to feed that comparative attitude within myself.

I have no idea what this next year will bring me.  I’ll be honest, I’m not as excited as I was when I turned thirty.  But I know that God is here, present in my life.  So whatever this year brings – heartache or overwhelming joy, or both…

Bring it on.