It’s fall and somehow the leaves that abandon their source to make way for new life once winter rest has passed gives me hope. I see evidence of this cycle of life all around. What looks as though it’s been lost is giving way to something new.

But we must wait. Wait until the time has come for the newness to flourish in sun and rain.

I notice the color of loss is vibrant yet deceiving. So full yet so empty. Sad but hopeful.

I allow myself to feel every emotion that waves through me as I process this process. But I am determined to land on hope.

There is a sweetness in the sorrow as it draws us closer to our Maker and His divine purposes. As He comforts our pain and silences our questions with His love.

There are many different colors and shapes to our grief and they mirror the variation I see through the seasons.  There is no good or bad. Our variety reveals who we are.

We beg the Maker to remove loss and replace it with abundance because we are desperate for joy. . .we are desperate for peace.

But there is peace in the process. . .that passes understanding.

My dear friend, I grieve with you in your process. I weep as you weep and I question as you question but I pray you find hope. I implore you to find the beauty that is hidden within the buds of growth and life as you journey through the seasons.

He will not leave you barren. He will not leave you bare.

“May the God of Hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing.” Romans 15:13

This post was written in honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. I am part of this community having experienced 3 miscarriages and 1 ectopic pregnancy. Today I stand with the brave women who have endured loss and I remember the life we once carried in our wombs. I also stand in hope that the desires of their hearts will be fulfilled in His perfect timing. He is faithful.

October is pregnancy and infant loss awareness month with October 15th being the day that thousands of people around the world with honor the grief and loss they’ve experienced through miscarriage, stillbirth and infant death.

Because we have experienced loss in our community, we want to join with others who will be remembering this month. We hope that you’ll find your own way of reaching out to those around you who have experienced loss. Even if you can’t fully understand their grief or need to remember, gather around them with love and support.

For those who would like to participate this month, here is our list of organizations that will be honoring this important occasion:

October15th.com

Still Standing Magazine

Small Bird Studios

I Am The Face

Capture Your Grief

If nothing else, I ask that you join with us in praying for those who have lost a child to find peace and hope in Jesus.

Will you be participating this month? If you feel comfortable, we’d love to hear if you’ve lost a baby so we can celebrate their life with you this month. And please let us know what organizations I missed that will be taking part.

{Image courtesy of Small Bird Studios}

 It never gets any easier to tell a woman that her baby is dead. 

It’s part of my job. I accept that. Part of living in a fallen world is that bad things happen to good people. I understand this fact on an intellectual level, but despite the years of giving bad news, it still breaks my heart each time.

Lately,  I’ve had to tell several women terrible news; women who really needed good news.

When I saw their names on my patient lists, scheduled for their first pregnancy visit, I would get so excited. Finally they were pregnant again. I would be full of hope, that this time would be different, until I placed the ultrasound on their belly only to see stillness, where the flutter of a heart beat should have been.

These were women burdened with multiple disappointments, who conceived despite the odds, only to face heart wrenching losses once again.

I wish I had answers,  both medical and spiritual as to why this has to happen, but mostly I do not.

I can’t always give them answers. I can only listen, comfort, hope and pray.

Pray that they are blessed with a next time. That the next time things will be different. That next time there will be tears of joy.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”

2 Corinthians 1:3-4

If you are part of this community, we pray for you often; especially those who have experienced loss. Know that you are covered and understood and loved.

{Photo used courtesy of Creative Commons}

I consider myself one of those people who doesn’t always know what to say. This is why I love to write. Writing allows you time to think and formulate and perfect. Having words on the spot requires much more instinct. And guts. . .it takes lots of guts to open your mouth, let the words fly and hope you are saying the right thing. The good thing about me though, is when I don’t know what to say, I usually just say, “I’m so sorry” or I keep my mouth shut. I suppose this is a talent I gained after enduring several losses and cringing at the thought of some unknowing person thinking they know and in turn telling me what I should know to be true about my situation.

“God has other plans.”

“Maybe you should adopt.”

“If you will just relax. It will happen.”

The loved ones that truly brought healing were those who thought, beyond words, to reach out to my broken heart. Sitting by my side. Crying with me. Bringing a meal over so I didn’t have to cook. Holding my hand even though I clenched theirs so hard it hurt.

When someone is hurting, this is the outpouring they remember. Not the cliches and recited prayers. We need to go beyond words to meet the needs of grieving hearts. Because there is a holiness in tears and touch that can get lost in words that flow out of the human heart.

I have the great privilege to introduce our readers this week to an amazing artist and mother, Stephanie with Beyond Words Designs. You can read more about Stephanie’s story and the loss of her baby girl here. As a tribute to her daughter, Stephanie created Beyond Words Designs where she creates art that celebrates life. I met Stephanie at Blissdom this past February. We were sitting at a table together during one of the sessions. I overheard her sharing part of her story and I knew I was to meet her afterward. While many other attendees made their way to chat with the speaker, I knew I needed to and wanted to meet this woman who endured such loss (from what I could hear) yet emulated peace and joy.

I know there are several mothers in our community who have suffered loss through infant death, stillbirth, miscarriage and infertility. I know the pieces in the Beyond Words collection will speak to you. But this art is not only about loss. It’s about life. So no matter what your story, there is something beautiful for you in these pieces.

We have the great honor this week of giving away a $50 shop credit to Beyond Words Designs! Enter below for your chance to choose your favorite item in Stephanie’s store. You may choose something to honor a loss or if you are currently expecting there are beautiful images portraying life to celebrate your pregnancy.

We’d love to hear from you. . .what acts that went beyond words meant the most to you when you were walking through a difficult time?

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“So neither the one who plants or the one who waters is anything but only God who causes things to grow.” 1 Corinthians 3:7

Firmly Planted and Growing. . .

This morning I had the privilege of speaking to the women at The Gate in Franklin, TN. What a precious group of girls. So much life represented there. One hopeful mommy is now expecting after several miscarriages and we had a sweet time of prayer for another still believing for her miracle. Here’s a little bit of what I shared after I told my story. This has been on my heart for some time now. Nothing completely earth-shattering but I believe good reminders for us no matter what it is we are walking through.

I’ve always said, we never know what the Lord is going to require of us because he is more concerned with our growth and his glory than any outcome here on earth. I never imagined how true that would be for me. I’m sure many of you can say the same. We never start out on the journey expecting it to be hard. We are wide-eyed and hopeful. I know I was.

Throughout my journey to motherhood, I kept asking the Lord to spare me any more heartache so I could see how deep my relationship with him would go apart from sorrow. But I realized, the heartaches and the sorrows are the rain that cause our growth. Without them we would remain stagnant and unfruitful.

And growth requires both sunshine and rain. Too much sunshine without the rain leads to drought. Too much rain without sunshine leads to flooding. We need to seek him for balance but hope for both sunshine and rain to nourish us. This is how we become firmly planted and ultimately grow.

This Thanksgiving season I challenge you {as I am also challenging myself} to ask the questions:

What things are sunshine in my life?
What things are the rain?

Acknowledge and thank him for it all. Your life and it’s growth and fruitfulness require both.

Thankful for sunshine and rain,
Jessica

It was 3 a.m. on a Saturday night, midway through my intern year, when the impact of pregnancy loss first slapped me in the face. As intern, I was in charge of doing the paperwork for all those being admitted to the hospital that night. The last patient on my list was a pleasant 50 year old women being admitted for pelvic pain.

In my rush to finish the paperwork and hopefully get an hour of sleep, I began hammering her with my list of questions. I started with, what every good OB/GYN intern starts with, the “G’s and P’s”.  G=Gravida,  which stands for the number of pregnancies. P=Parity, which stands for the number of deliveries. Each piece of the  gynecological medical record starts with this bit of information.  Yes, OB/GYNs start first by judging the ability of your womb to accept and carry a child.

“How many times have you been pregnant?” I ask hurriedly, pencil in hand.

“Only once.. but … he didn’t make it.” She said, her voice shaking, with a single tear quickly wiped from her cheek.

I was taken aback, both by her response and my own. This loss had occurred years ago, yet still stung so deeply. That night I learned to ask this question more tactfully.

A couple years later, I learned another lesson in the pain of pregnancy loss when my own joy of conceiving was quickly mired by seeing  blood stained toilet paper.  My loss was early, but the pain was deep and real.  Time has healed my hurt, but I am frequently reminded of the pain of loss as I am often the bearer of bad news.  Sadly, miscarriage is extremely common and something I had dealt with on a regular basis.   I had not truly appreciate the level of loss experienced until I was on the other side of  the stethoscope.

Over the years I learned to look differently at the G’s and P’s on the medical record. My heart will ache when I see a G6P2, realizing the painful reality that the 4 losses must represent.  I cannot fathom feeling your heart sink so deep with disappointment, not just once, but 4 times.

October 15 is pregnancy and infant loss day. A time to remember and acknowledge the loss and pain that occurs when the G’s and P’s do not align.  For those of you who have experienced this loss, I cannot say I know how you feel, for everyone processes loss differently.  I can say that I acknowledge that your pain is real and I  pray that in your journey  you find peace and healing.

Many of you already know my story but I had the great privilege to guest post for my friend Shelley Hendrix this week, sharing how hope changed everything in my life. Shelley is the lovely brains and heart behind Church 4 Chicks, a wonderful ministry to women in the Atlanta area. God is doing great things through her ministry and you may be able to find Church 4 Chicks in your area sometime soon. We’ll also be seeing other things from Shelley like a brand new book coming in the next year. I’ll be sure to tell you about it when the book is available.

My daughter’s name is Hope . . . because her life came after a season of longing, waiting, suffering and loss. I had always wanted children and I suppose I thought my mere desire would lead to its reality. I never imagined I would have to contend for something that God created me to be – a mother. After being diagnosed with PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome), I knew my journey to motherhood would be longer than the average girl. Two years and two miscarriages later, Hope was born.

Through the process I learned so much about my relationship with Christ. Although I did not want to imagine going through anything worse than I had been through, I remember feeling a sense that this was preparing me for some greater trial.

We simply don’t know what the Lord is going to require of us. . .

{Hop on over to www.shelleyhendrix.org to read more. . .}

Both Dr. Rupe and I have the great privilege of walking through life with a dear friend, Donna. She has been there for both of us through joy and pain. This past month she shared a piece she wrote with Dr. Rupe in mind. I can honestly say she took the words right out of my heart. I weep every time I read these words because I have been on the receiving end of this sweet and honest, “I’m sorry. . .”

I pray that those who have experienced or will experience loss have the gift of a provider who feels your grief. If not, know that we do and we pray for you often (even if we don’t know your name). And most of all -  the giver of life. . .the One who knows your name. . .knows your pain and He loves you.

Thank you Donna for so beautifully expressing something so many of us have walked through. You are a treasure.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as she bowed her head, then looked up into my eyes.
The words she said, caused my heart to dread and I began to cry.

Her credentials gave her authority, her practice showed success.
The office ran efficiently, with staff and partners who impressed.

Her coat of white or scrubs of green, were symbolic of how she’d trained.
Skilled and talented, a gift it seemed, for a practice of joy and pain.

“I’m sorry…” She used no fancy phrases to hide her own unease.
No empty words, no false assurances, her own pride to appease.

“I’m sorry…” No sweeter words, nor more with power when said with such humbled heart.
For I saw she knew, from her own past pain, how deeply my loss hurt.

“I’m sorry…” Shining eyes from tears unshed, with a tender touch to my hand.
She eased the sting of truth she shared, and comforted instead.

My hopes now crushed, my dreams now gone, she could have dashed away.
“I’m sorry,” she said, with a broken voice, then sat next to me and stayed.

So, when finally I left, new plans to be made I walked slowly down the hall.
Where pictures of life I’d never hold lined almost every wall.

But her door was cracked, the room was dark with just enough light to see.
There her Bible open, and tissue in hand; I heard faith filled words for me.

No way to fix my brokenness or change my heart deep feelings.
But in that moment, paused in time, her prayer began my healing.

dmh 6/2011

The last three weeks have been a crazy blur of sadness. In the mist of one the busiest delivery months of the year, it seems that a daily dose of bad news has surrounded me. Three close friends have received devastating news.  My heart breaks for each of them, as I search for tangible ways to attempt to help. Sprinkled in between the joyous deliveries and the blows to my friends, has been a unusual number of patients to which I’ve had to be the bearer of bad news.

Over the last three weeks the phrase, “I’m so very sorry , but it appears that your baby has no heart beat” has left my mouth way too many times. It never gets easier to say. Each time my stomach turns and my heart aches as I turn to the mother to gauge her reaction.

In these moments, I wish I could do more. I wish there was a test I could draw to give an answer.  I dream of a magic text book I could consult to find the perfect medication to cure all their ills. I’m a doctor, a fixer, a problem solver.  With problems of the heart, there are no easy answers.  I feel inept and frustrated. With all the loss I‘ve gone through, I should be able to draw from my experience to find the right words of comfort. After writing a book about a peace filled pregnancy, I should be able to quote the perfect scripture to make everything OK.

For my friends and my patients that I can’t ‘fix’, what I can do is be there. I can listen and provide a caring touch. I can comfort and reassure them. I can give them permission to grieve. I can acknowledge the depth of their loss. I can encourage them that some day the hurt will fade. I can pray. And I can hope that these things are enough.

Sometimes I can find a medical issues that can be treated, giving hope for the future.   But I can’t heal their heart. Only God can do that. While I am imperfect and frustrated,  He “the Great Physician” is enough.

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” Job 1:21

As Mother’s Day draws closer, I find I have mixed emotions. I am excited to celebrate the fact that God has blessed me abundantly in the mere fact that I get to be called “Mom”. But the circumstances surrounding my family cause my enthusiasm to be stunted.

A year ago on Mother’s Day, I stood in church while we sang Matt Redman’s song, “Blessed Be Your Name” and I wept. It was two short months after losing twins through a heterotopic pregnancy and as I thought of the now, four babies I’ll never meet here on earth I felt both sorrow and joy because after all, I am their mother too. I suppose I was so moved by the song because it’s been part of the soundtrack of my journey to motherhood. Each time I experienced a miscarriage, I heard this song on the radio. . .within days before it happened. I’ve gotten to the point where I quickly turn the tuner if it comes on for fear of what it might mean. As if God would allow a song to determine my fate. . .But that moment for me was both cleansing and transforming as I realized my role as a mother goes way beyond the limitations of this earth. Since I believe in the eternal, I can believe that every life I produced as a mother has a purpose – even though I do not touch it in the physical.

He gives and takes away. He gives and takes away. My heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be Your name.

Earlier this year as we celebrated the miracle life currently growing in my womb, we simultaneously mourned the loss of my husband’s mother, Linda. After a short battle with ALS, Linda went to be with Jesus on January 31. Three weeks later we said goodbye to Linda’s mother – Dave’s grandmother, Lenore.

He gives and takes away. He gives and takes away. My heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be Your name.

I’ve been thinking a lot about these two women as I look towards Mother’s Day. Like me, their role as mother and grandmother goes way beyond this earth. I am sad that we cannot honor them in the flesh but I know that the legacy they leave behind shines daily light on the fact that they were great women. I see them in my sister in law. . .I see them in my own daughter. And because I believe in the eternal, I believe they are being celebrated in Heaven, perhaps alongside my little ones. . .their grand-babies.

He gives and takes away. He gives and takes away. My heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be Your name.

This song holds so much more meaning for me now. I am surrounded by the blessings He gives: 2 miracle babies, my own precious mother who lives so close. . .the list could go on and on. And yet He takes away: loved ones, dreams. . .thankfully not as long a list. As I encounter blessing and loss in my life, I may not always feel it but my heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be Your name. Whether you are dealing with the loss of a mother or grandmother or child. . .If you are dealing with the pain of infertility or waiting for your dream of motherhood to be fulfilled, I pray that each of you will find hope and strength within your heart this Mother’s Day to declare the same.

Happy Mother’s Day,

Jessica

P.S. There’s still time to enter the book giveaway for Mother’s Day. If you missed it, check out this post on a miracle birth story and enter to win!