top of page

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." (Matthew 5:4) 





It comes and goes in waves. 


It comes when I notice the decorative teacup. The one I wrote inside "You're going to be a Daddy.” 


It goes when I look back and remember his mixed emotions as he dumped the cup. His face changing as he saw the words, their meaning setting in. We finally had the answer to our prayers: we were going to be parents.


My heart aches when I think of how I accidentally stuck it into the dishwasher after the loss. The remains of the smudged words are still there. I am unable to wash them away. If I do, I worry what was once true will wash away, too.


Every time I open the door to walk onto our patio, another one opens, filled with memories I would rather stash away. It is where I begged God to keep our baby safe. Where I asked, "Can You please promise me that our baby will be okay?" 


Sometimes, God speaks clearly. This was one of those times. I heard Him say, "Yes." When He answered me, I believed our child would be in my arms in a few months.


After that moment of certainty, a drive to the doctor's office brought confusion when the loss was confirmed.


There were no tears left to cry as we exited the building. Driving home was different this time. Our home felt more empty than before. What was once a safe place had become an echo of hopes and dreams deferred.


I had a lot of questions for God. I was angry, sad, and hopeful all at the same time. 


"Why would you allow me to get pregnant and get our hopes up just to let us down?" 


"How will I be able to face tomorrow and go to work as if this didn't happen? God, how?" 


"When will we get to have the chance to be parents?" 

The questions became statements, and somehow I got an answer this time. 


"You promised our baby would be okay."  


"He is." 


This made me angry. The problem was that our baby was not okay. He was not with us anymore. 


After a while, anger became understanding. A realization of the fact that "Yes" didn't look like what I thought it would. 


God was right. Our baby was okay. Our baby was far better off than he would have been on this earth. He never knew pain, heartache, or disappointment. He got to skip all of that and go straight to being with Jesus.


God kept His promise. He was faithful.


It didn't look like what I expected. If I told you I didn't have questions anymore, I would be lying. 


Each day that passes is another reminder that our baby is no longer with us. When the sadness comes, it is an invitation for me to come into God's presence and mourn alongside El Roi, “The God Who Sees Me.” 


God did not promise us that life would be easy or that things will make sense. His presence in the midst of suffering is the gift He has given over and over again.


Some of my questions still haven't been answered, and I don't expect they ever will.


Perhaps one day the ache will hurt less. 


Perhaps one day I will have the answers to my questions. 


My hope is found in Jesus. I can find peace in knowing I am not grieving alone. He sees me and cares about my pain. He is the healer of broken hearts. He has been faithful and true in the midst of this tragedy. I believe He will make this and all things work out for good. He said He will, and there is truth in His promises.


{"When I found You faithful, the God who breaks no vow // You kept Your word so many times that I lost count" ~ Not Even Once ; Benjamin William Hastings}

bottom of page