Navigating Grief Over The Holidays

All around me and within me I hear echoes of great loss. The holidays are powerful like that. They have a tendency to intensify the feelings intertwined with grief.

Grief is s powerful emotion. It’s a natural response to loss. Understandably, most often grief is associated with those grieving the loss of a loved one. And while this is true, grief also seeps through the cracks and corners of many other losses. It extends beyond one sector. The loss of a significant relationship. The loss of a job and financial security. The loss of identity (e.g. a survivor of breast cancer grieving the lost sense of femininity after her double mastectomy). The loss of autonomy (e.g. an individual struggling with a degenerative physical or cognitive health issue). The loss of dreams and/or expectations (e.g. a couple struggling with infertility or walking through a failed/interrupted adoption). It's vital to understand and acknowledge that grief can come wrapped in different packages. Your loss may look different than someone else’s. But that does negate it’s validity or need for grieving and healing.

Christmas 2014 was “supposed to be” one of the happiest and joyous Christmases of our life. The holiday festivities were “supposed to be” our first Christmas with our miracle baby-a miracle in every sense of the word. A baby that we were told was less than “1% chance possible” after struggling with infertility. I remember all of the emotions that were building up in my heart as the days progressed closer to Christmas. I didn’t want to do anything. I thought it might spark some joy to put up the Christmas Tree. (It didn’t). I nearly rolled my eyes when I came across an ornament that read, “Immanuel” (God with us). “Yeah right,” I thought to myself. I didn’t feel like He was with me. I felt like there was absolutely nothing to celebrate. The baby who was supposed to be less than 30 days old and snuggling in my arms wasn’t there. We spent that Christmas with friends, and even though I was surrounded by a ton of people who were happy, I felt sad and empty.  That's the power of grief. You can be completely surrounded by happy things and happy people, but feel absolutely miserable, angry and alone.

I’ve heard it said time and time again that grief is harder to manage over the holidays and I know this to be true. How do you navigate what is “supposed to be” such a festive and joyous holiday when you feel like you are drowning in your grief?

1. You remember Immanuel. You sink into the promise that God is with you. Period. Even when you don’t “feel” it. Your feelings are powerful, yes, but they do not change who God is or His eternal commitment to you, His child.

When my daughter had a boo-boo and she was crying, I kept on whispering in her ear while I had her wrapped in my arms, "I'm here with you. I'm here with you." A few minutes later she looked up at me with big tear drops in her eyes and said, “I'm so glad you're here with me." Even as she was hurting, it provided her 5 year old little heart comfort to know that mommy was here and mommy wasn't going anywhere. That's the power of a loved one's presence. It doesn’t take away the immediate pain. It doesn’t always fix the problem at hand. But there is something comforting on a universal level about the nearness of a loved one’s presence.

The comfort of a loved one’s presence pale’s in comparison to the nearness of of your Heavenly Father. Poured out through Scriptures we see variations of the promise that God is with us and examples and testimonies of how God followed through on His commitment to His children.

• “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” Isaiah 43:2

• “…for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9

• “…for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you." Deuteronomy 31:6

• “The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save.” Zephaniah 3:7

• “And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age." Matthew 28:20

• “Even though I walk through the valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Psalm 23:4

• “God is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in Spirit.” Psalm 34:18

• “Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5

We should find great comfort as we read through truths like these and many others. Our tears don’t overwhelm Him. He doesn’t draw back when we try to hide. He isn’t annoyed by our big feelings. The comfort of God is constant. The comfort of God is steadfast.

2. Remember as Christians we are to look to Christ as our example in all things, including how we process our emotions. “…The one who says he abides in Him ought himself to walk in the same manner as He walked.” (1 John 2:6). This is an invitation to feel things just as deeply as Christ did.

When Jesus discovered his best friend Lazarus died one of the very first things he did was weep. Jesus wept (John 11:35). He mourned with his friends and family. After hearing that His cousin John the Baptist was murdered Jesus withdrew to a quiet place (Matthew 14:13). Jesus got on a boat, left the crowd and went away to a secluded place to be alone with the Father and mourn the loss of his dear friend. We don't know for how long, but one thing is for sure is this: if Jesus Christ needed time away to mourn the loss of His friends, then we need to give ourselves the grace to process our loss. In Matthew 26, at the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus became grieved and distressed upon thinking of the crucifixion. “My soul is deeply grieved, to the point of death…” He later fell to his face and cried out to the Lord. Scripture says at one point that his grieving became so intense that he suffered from Hematohidrosis (a rare condition in which an individual sweats blood). Jesus didn’t keep his grief in a neat tidy box. He lamented before the Father in anguish.

The grieving process is not a linear equation. It’s messy. It comes in ebbs and flows. C.S. Lewis says, "Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley, where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape." It comes when you least expect it. It comes out of the blue. It comes during should-have-been birthdays and would-have-been holidays with that extra person sitting at the end of the dinner table.

Be kind, patient and gracious with yourself as you grieve. Don’t set the bar too high in regards to the expectations you have for yourself, especially over the holidays. If you need to keep it low-key or step away for a bit from a family gathering, than do so. Your family and friends will understand.

3. Remember that your story doesn’t end with grief. In 1 Thessalonians 4:13 Paul instructs them not grieve as those who have no hope. He wasn’t telling them to “get over your grief and get on with your life.” He was reminding them that as believers they can grieve with hope.

Hope came to us in the form of a little baby boy. A little baby boy who came to save the world. “Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, a virgin will be with child and bear a son, and she will call His name Immanuel” (Isaiah 7:14). A little baby boy, who would grow up and become quite familiar with pain, suffering and grief. (Isaiah 53:3). He experienced great loss in his short time here on this earth. He was mocked, rejected and threatened. He was betrayed by those whom he loved dearly. His identity and reputation came under question. He experienced the loss of friends and family. He experienced public humiliation of the worse nature as his clothes were ripped off his body and he was beaten. He knew what was coming for Him on the cross and grieved in anguish in anticipation of what would be a slow, tortuous death. But His story didn’t end there. His story didn’t end on the cross. He was raised to life and now sits at the right hand of God. Just as Christ’s story didn’t end with grief, ours doesn’t either.

As a believers sealed by Christ through the Holy Spirit you can grieve with hope knowing…

• You are not alone and God will strengthen you and uphold you with his right hand. Is. 41:10

• God heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds . Psalm 147:3

• Nothing can separate you from the love of God-no death, no loss, no fear-nothing . Romans 8:28-29

• You can cast all of your cares and anxieties on the Lord and He promises to sustain you. Psalm 55:22

• Your present sufferings are not comparable to the glory that will be revealed in you. Romans 8:18

• The God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will restore you and strengthen you. 1 Peter 5:10

• One day Christ will return and he will wipe every tear from your eyes and there will be no more mourning and no more crying . Revelation 21:4

• This place is not our home. As believers, we have an eternal home waiting for us in heaven, where we will spend every day worshiping our Savior amongst our loved ones who we now grieve. Hebrews 11:16 & Rev. 7:9

The grieving woman in 2014 who rolled her eyes at the ornament that read, “Immanuel,” questioning God’s presence with her, did not escape God’s grace, goodness or unconditional love. Her feelings of doubt, anger, sadness, and despair did not scare Him away as they might a mere human. No matter how dark it got, no matter how unbearable and heavy it felt, God did not leave her side. Not for a moment. "Ultimately, your hope…hinges on Jesus. He’s holding onto you even when it feels like you’re free falling. You may be in the dark, but your Shepherd is walking right beside you. He knows what it’s like to be overwhelmed by grief and swallowed by bleakness. Your grip on life may falter, but his grip on you won’t” (Stephen Altrogge).

Infertility & Mother's Day

My husband picked the kids up the other day from preschool. I was waiting at the door to greet them. They came running with papers in their hands and their backpacks dragging on the ground. Roman said with the biggest dimpled filled grin on his face, "Mommy! Mommy! We made something for you for your Birthday!" Ruby jumps in, "No, not for her Birthday, for Mother's Day! Here you go, mommy!" As I looked down at my beautiful and handsome almost 5 year old twins, my heart smiled. In that joy-filled moment I thought to myself, "These are the moments I dreamed about. These are the moments I prayed for."

For the first four years of our marriage I hated Mother's Day. I didn't want to hate it, but I did. For me Mother's Day seemed like a tease, marked with confusion, anger, jealousy, despair and bitterness. Although infertility affects women everyday of the year, for me Mother's Day was a sheer reminder to me of my broken body and my empty womb. Mother's Day was a reminder of what cancer took from me. On this day, more than any of the other days, I felt the accuser's lies yelling in my face, "You're not really a woman."

I miscarried in 2014 just two months before Mother's Day. I didn't want to go to church that Sunday. I was angry at God. I did not want to sit through another Mother's Day of the pastor asking all of the mother's to stand up so they could be honored and gifted with a flower. I wanted to stay in bed and cry and grieve. When our unborn child died, I felt like a piece of my heart died too. Those years were some of the darkest years of my life both spiritually and emotionally.

We later discovered through a few tests that the likelihood of me being able to bear children biologically would be medically impossible. Hopelessness and despair-two emotions that I became well acquainted with. When you think your identity as a woman is tied to being able to bear children and then you can't do the thing that you think your identity is tied to, hopelessness and despair typically follow. Shortly after we miscarried we moved to a little town just outside of Baton Rouge, Louisiana where I was introduced to an amazing counselor who loved Jesus and loved helping others. She was a gift from the Lord-a God send. The Lord used her in my life at a time when I needed it most.

Little by little I came to see the identity I had constructed in my head of what I was supposed to do or be as a woman had missed the mark. I got it wrong. As believers our identity is wrapped up in who Christ is and what He did on the cross. Our identity has nothing to do with us and everything to do with Jesus Christ. Seeing infertility through this Gospel lens is crucial for the health and wellbeing of our souls. How so? Because if we aren't careful we can allow our infertility to define us. And that's exactly what the accuser, Satan, desires. He wants us to become so wrapped up in our struggle with infertility that we forget the beautiful truth that in Jesus Christ we are complete. Satan longs for us to forget that it is in fact our Savior, not a negative pregnancy test, who deems our life worthy and gives us intrinsic value.

Although I am not consumed by my infertility like I once was, I still have sad moments and reminders of our loss. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be sad about sad things. God understands. And so I take my thoughts to Him and talk with Him about it. I don’t have to minimize my emotions or clean them up before I go to Him. I can just go to Him.

Overtime the Lord restored and redeemed that which was broken. He restored my heart and my mind. I don't walk around anymore thinking I'm less than because of my empty womb. I have joy. And not joy that can be found in anything this world has to offer. I'm speaking of the eternal joy found in Christ. The kind of joy that isn't swayed by circumstances because it's hope is secure in the Lord.

Our infertility led us to adoption. Adoption led us to our children. And now I am "mama" to my precious son and daughter, whom I can't imagine my life without. The Lord gives beauty for ashes and joy for mourning, friends. You may feel hopeless now, but that hopelessness will not be forever. "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning" (Psalm 30:5). I'm living proof.

He Withholds No Good Thing

For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor.
No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly.
Psalm 84:11

He withholds no good thing. These 5 words have been nourishment for my heart. God's Word, His promise, has been a healing balm to my spirit. I've clung to these words tightly over the past decade of my life and even more so over the past few years. 

I've asked God about His goodness and these “good things” while walking through some of the darkest nights. "Are you really good, God? I know you say that you withhold no good thing from your children, but I can't make sense of this." 

Negative pregnancy tests. 
Miscarriage and loss. 
Cancer surgery after cancer surgery. 
Unanswered prayers.

The other day I was sharing with a friend how I was desperately struggling with an unanswered prayer. But felt a lot of guilt around not being able to really believe that God wasn't withholding good from me. Because that’s how it felt…like God was withholding this from me.

She reminded me, "Kelly, I think it's okay to not feel okay right now." Her words rushed over my entire body from head to toe-body, mind and spirit. Then, a feeling of release ensued. All at once I felt the propensity of the weight I had been carrying. I recognized and named each thorn, each scar, and every piece of me that felt broken. I didn't try to make sense of it. I didn't try to push through immediately and find the purpose in the pain. Instead, I brought all of these broken pieces and fragments to Jesus. I laid them at His feet. I told Him I wasn't okay. I told Him how much my heart hurt. I told Him I didn't understand. I asked Him to help me. I told Him, “I know in your Word it says ‘you withhold no good thing from your children,’ but I’m struggling to believe this right now. Help me believe. Help me really believe."

Perhaps you can relate- the inner turmoil of knowing what God’s Word says, but your heart lagging behind, struggling to really believe. “God I know in your Word you say you have good things in store for me, but I just can’t see it now. Sometimes it feels like you are withholding this good thing from me.” If this is you, than I want you to know that you are not alone. I’m right there with you. I didn’t write this in “hindsight” looking back on the struggle. I’m in it now. I don’t have any quick fixes or cookie-cut answers for you. But I can tell what I’m doing. I’m continually running to the source of wisdom and asking Him to grant me wisdom and strength as I sit in the uncomfortableness and brokenness that comes with living in this fallen world.

The other day I was really struggling with this unanswered prayer and I didn’t feel like going to a conference that I was scheduled to attend. I made myself go anyway because I felt the Holy Spirit leading. As the speaker was sharing a bit of her story it resonated with some of the things I had been seeking the Lord about. I started tearing up because I knew that God wanted me in that room to hear everything the speaker had to say and in His kindness He got me there. I felt the Holy Spirit speaking directly to my heart as she continued to share,“Who told you that you’re missing out? Don’t you know that fullness is found in me!?”

Whatever you are going through-infertility, loss, the ups and downs of the adoption process, health issues, financial struggles, relationship issues, unanswered prayers, sit with the Holy Spirit and talk with Him about it. Ask Him for wisdom. God didn’t grant my unanswered prayer, but He gave me wisdom, generously, to be able to sit with the brokenness, while placing my hope in Christ and not my circumstances. He can do the same for you too, friend.

“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault,
and it will be given to you” (James 1:5)

Guest Post: Adoption Isn't A Way To Get Pregnant

The moment the nurse placed him in my arms, I knew we belonged to each other. All the tears and frustrations of the past several years pooled into a fountain of joy. Now I understood why God has us wait for a baby: So we could have this baby.

After my husband and I struggled with infertility, the Lord blew us away with His kindness and matched us with a loving birthmother. Through her brave choice, He gave us a son.

People were happy for us. They threw us showers, brought meals, and eagerly cuddled our son. Yet amid the celebration, we heard comments hinting at something better to come. A wink here, a nudged elbow there, the crack of a smile implying special intuition. I cringed every time someone uttered the words:

“Now that you’ve adopted, you’ll get pregnant. It happens all the time.”

No. No, it doesn’t happen all the time. Research on pregnancy after infertility doesn’t account for couples who adopt before getting pregnant. From a scientific standpoint, this idea is a myth.

People who say this mean well. They’re trying to give you hope that your longing for a biological child will be fulfilled. What they don’t understand is that this myth devalues adoptees. It regards the process of adoption as inferior to biological procreation, and an adopted child as less desirable than a biological child.

Regardless of good intentions, statements like “Just adopt, then you’ll get pregnant” hurt people. They question couples’ family-building decisions, treat children as a means to an end, and reject the core Christian belief that God created all human beings in His image (Genesis 1:27).

Every life matters to God. He calls us as His image bearers to respect and preserve the dignity of every single person. No matter how a child is brought into a family, he or she is worthy of value to the Lord and to the world.

God grows families through both pregnancy and adoption. The varied makeup of the earthly families he builds reflects the diversity of our spiritual family. We come from different backgrounds, far-flung places, and widely ranging walks of life, all broken and in need of rescue. By sending Christ to die in our place and raise to new life, God gave us the right to be called His adopted children. As He welcomed us into His family, so we can embrace and appreciate the mosaic of families he forms in the world.

Through earthly adoption, God does more than unite parents with children. He provides a path to redeem some of the damage the Fall inflicted on childbearing and family unity. He takes crises like infertility, unexpected pregnancy, and children who are orphaned or otherwise at risk and transforms them into opportunities for restoration.

As with any earthly process, adoption isn’t perfect. It can’t completely “fix” these problems. Yet the creation of a family born of loss renders hope for a broken world groaning to be made anew (Romans 8:19). Like with our spiritual adoption, we need earthly adoption to claim the family wholeness we crave.

Viewing adoption as secondary to biological procreation diminishes a beautiful process whereby God works redemption. Rather than a lesser means to a better end, adoption is a resolution, a responsibility, a calling, and a gift. It’s an end unto itself and should be appreciated as a providential plan. John Piper describes the intrinsic worth of both ways God designs a family:

“In our lives, there is something uniquely precious about having children by birth. That is a good plan. There is also something different, but also uniquely precious, about adopting children. Each has its own uniqueness. Your choice to adopt children may be sequentially second. But it does not have to be secondary. It can be as precious and significant as having children by birth.”

Although it’s rare, some couples do get pregnant after adopting. It happened to us. I have no explanation for it, other than to say God worked another miracle after the first miracle of bringing our oldest son through adoption. We’re grateful for how he formed our family using different paths at different times.

Wherever you’re at on the path of adoption, be prepared to encounter the myth that adoption leads to pregnancy. Even if infertility isn’t part of your story, you’ll hear it tossed around as a platitude or joke.

While it’s frustrating to be told such a harmful cliché, try to approach the situation as an opportunity to educate others. Tell them that a child who is adopted isn’t a consolation prize for parents who couldn’t conceive. Give them a clearer picture of adoption, acknowledging the risks and flaws while also highlighting the value and beauty of this path.

Ask the Lord to give you boldness and gentleness to correct the myth. Help others see the glorious ways God chooses to grow a family, that they might glorify your Father in heaven.

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Jenn Hesse is a writer, wife, and mother through adoption and pregnancy. She is the content director at a national infertility support ministry called Waiting in Hope, and has a passion for equipping others to know Christ through His Word. She writes at jennhesse.com and other Christian publications.

Getting Through Mother's Day After A Loss

It’s the day before Mother’s Day and I have so many women on my mind who are struggling with infertility and loss. As I was praying for these sweet ladies, a post I wrote over 6 years ago, 2 months after our miscarriage, kept coming to mind. I don’t know who needs to hear these words, but I’m confident someone does.

May 10, 2014

This would have been my very first  Mother’s Day with a little baby growing inside of me, but here I am in my bed, weighed down by a mountain of grief, unable to put my feet on the floor. I have been praying that God would give me (and others) strength to get through tomorrow, but I know it will still sting. This Mother’s Day will be a reminder of the loss of our baby. It will be a reminder of a broken dream. Mothers will post pictures of their “Mother’s Day” gifts and “Mother’s Day” lunches (as they should). It is something to be celebrated. Young mothers will get homemade drawings from their little ones and husbands will buy their wives a bouquet of flowers (as they should). Mother’s Day will be difficult for me to celebrate this year because it will be a constant reminder of our loss.

On this Mother’s Day, please honor your mothers, but don’t forget about those who have had a miscarriage or are struggling with infertility. Also, be mindful that many women (and men) have lost their mother or child. It may be difficult for them to be joyous on this occasion-so be understanding if they do not appear to be as “celebratory” as you. Be sensitive, gracious and very mindful of your words. “Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body” (Proverbs 16:24). A simple: “I am praying for you” is more than sufficient.

To the women (and men) who are stung by a loss or infertility, please know it is more than ok (and quite normal) to struggle with feelings of anger and sadness-especially on Mother’s Day. You don’t have to dress yourself with a fake smile. Take your thoughts, take your sadness, take your frustration, take your brokenness, take it all to the feet of your Savior. He is a good Father. He is the best listener and He never gets tired of wiping your tears. I know your heart may feel broken and shattered into a million pieces, but our God is the Great Physician and He will help you.

A week after my miscarriage, I wrote a very honest letter to the Lord. I am not going to share all of it now (maybe one day), but I would like to disclose a portion with you:

“Where do I go from here? Where do we go from here? Great question. All I know is this: We are going to keep loving Jesus. And when we need to cry….we are going to cry. And when anger overcomes us we aren’t going to suppress it, but rather we will bring those feelings before the Lord, for He understands. We will keep running to the Ultimate healer who is more than able to restore our broken hearts.”

On this Mother’s Day don’t forget about those who are struggling with pain from prior losses or infertility. Pray for them. Pray that the Lord would bring complete healing to their soul. To all of the AMAZINGLY courageous women who contacted me after I shared about our miscarriage, sharing similar experiences, I will be thinking of you and praying for you tomorrow. I have found myself asking, “Lord, how am I going to get through the day tomorrow? It is just going to be an overwhelming reminder of our loss.” The Lord brought me to HIS WORD: “God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns” (Psalm 46:5). Remember: The Lord is walking with you tomorrow and if you need Him to…He will carry you through this storm. You are never alone.

How Grief & Hope Can Co-Exist In Loss

The other night my family and I were driving home from Dreamland BBQ. Our 2.5 year old twins were giggling and singing, "Baby shark" in the back of our mini van on repeat. I looked back at my beautiful son as he said, "You sing it, mama." I proceeded to join in with silly hand gestures and facial expressions. Then, my sweet Ruby girl let out the most adorable belly laugh. She has a lot of different laughs, but that one's my favorite. Roman joins in with giggles and as I look back I can see his big dimples and pearly whites as the car's tail lights in front of us are shining on his face. There was so much joy in that space.

But then I noticed something. I started counting quietly in my head. "It's January....so our baby would have been 1...2...3...4...4 years old...4 years old..." I sat quietly for a moment. Apparently, it was longer than I realized because my husband noticed that I stopped singing. "You okay?" he asked. I was silent for a few more moments and then looked over at him, "Do you ever think about how old our baby would be?" He quickly replied in a somber tone, "Yes, I do."

I was working on my Master's degree in Counseling and unintentionally signed up for a course on grief and loss the semester that I miscarried. I learned a lot during this time. One thing in particular that stands out to me is that grief is messy. It can't be contained. Of course you can sweep it under the rug- that's your choice. But, it will remain there, demanding to be dealt with, demanding to be felt, heard-to be understood. Yes, there are technically 5-steps to the grieving process, but you can't cookie cut your way through them. Grief isn't here one day and gone tomorrow. Grief is dealt with in waves. It comes in ebbs and flows. C.S. Lewis says, "Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley, where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape."

Grief is unpredictable. I would have never guessed that such a happy moment with our twins could trigger thoughts of our unborn child. But then sometimes, that's how grief works. It comes when you least expect it. It comes out of the blue. It comes during should-have-been birthdays and would-have-been holidays with that extra person sitting at the end of the dinner table.

A year after our miscarriage I was not in a good place emotionally. "Shouldn't you be over this, Kelly? I mean, it's been a year. God has blessed you with a beautiful life." I had falsely formed a belief that one day I would wake up and just be "over it." But, how could I? We are talking about a precious life here-a baby that we never got to hold earth side. I believe my belief was mistakenly influenced by how society views death.. We live in a culture that really doesn't understand how to respond to suffering and people who are grieving. Comments like, "it will happen for you one day" or "miscarriages are very common" are at their core dismissive statements that prevent the individual from being able to express and process their grief in a healthy way, further delaying their ability to heal.

Don’t let the world’s poor understanding of suffering and loss prevent you from processing your feelings in the healthy way that God intended you to. Contrary to what the world may tell you, grieving isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength and spiritual and emotional maturity. It takes courage to look your feelings in the face and actually deal with them.

My prayer for you is that you would give yourself time and space to heal. Be kind and patient with yourself. Turn your eyes away from how the world responds to suffering and look to Jesus Christ as your example. When Jesus discovered his best friend, Lazarus died one of the very first things he did was weep. Jesus wept (John 11:35). He mourned with his friends and family. Upon hearing that His cousin John the Baptist was murdered we learn that Jesus withdrew to a quiet place (Matthew 14:13). We don't for how long, but one thing is for sure is this: if the Jesus Christ, the Perfect God-man needed time away to mourn the loss of His friends, than we need to give ourselves the grace to process our loss, without judgment and without expectations.

When you grieve it is my prayer is that you do not grieve without hope. Can hope and grief co-exist? If you’re a child of God, than absolutely they do. You can grieve with hope knowing that God is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). You can grieve with hope knowing that you are not alone and God will strengthen you and uphold you with his right hand (Is. 41:10). You can grieve with hope knowing that God heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds (Psalm 147:3). You can grieve with hope knowing that nothing can separate you from the love of God-no death, no loss, no fear-nothing (Romans 8:28-29). We can grieve with hope knowing that you can cast all of your cares and anxieties on the Lord and He promises to sustain you (Psalm 55:22). You can grieve with hope knowing that one day Christ will return and he will wipe every tear from your eyes and there will be no more mourning and no more crying (Revelation 21:4).

After our miscarriage I felt like I was drowning in a sea of darkness. Obbie would come home from church and our sheets would be soaked with my tears. I was angry, bitter and depressed. But, God did not leave me alone in my despair. He pulled me out of the pit and gave my heart a reason to hope. “You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent (Psalm 30:11) For me healing came when I stopped putting my hope in a positive pregnancy test and instead fixed my eyes on Christ and His promises that were true for me even when I couldn’t make it out of the bed. Friend, you may feel hopeless in your loss. You may be angry. You may feel like you are drowning in a sea of darkness. But, remember this: God isn’t scared away by any of your big emotions. He understands every single one of them. He is with you. He is keeping you under His wings and His love will never let you go.

The Mother's Day I Didn't Want To Remember

It was a Sunday morning in the middle of May. Mother's Day. My body felt lifeless as I lay there in bed. My eyes were still sore and head was still throbbing from crying the night before. I knew that today was going to be a difficult one to face. After I finally convinced myself to get out of bed, I walked into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, turned to the side, and put my hand over my empty belly. A few weeks prior I was so excited about getting to celebrate my first Mother's Day with our little growing miracle.

We knew my ability to get pregnant was nearly impossible due to the cancer treatments I received early on in life. And so, after years of trying this was an answer to many prayers. This baby was in every definition of the word a miracle. We naively began plotting how we would tell our family and friends our exciting news. We even started thinking of names. Our hearts and home were filled with so much joy and expectancy. But as I was standing in front of the mirror on Mother's Day, the excitement and joy that once filled my heart were quickly replaced with feelings of anger, bitterness and hopelessness. I felt broken. Incomplete. And in some ways less than what I was created to be and what I was created to do.

I went to church dressed in a fake smile. I sang songs. I greeted the people around me. I held back all of my tears until I couldn't any more. I ended up leaving early just before the pastor (my husband) would ask all of the "mothers" to stand for recognition. I rushed out the back door of the church and headed straight towards our porch. We lived in the parsonage less than 10 feet away (literally), so thankfully I didn't have that far to go before I made it to my bed (again). I can vividly remember my cheeks hitting the pillows that were still wet from crying the night before as I yelled into the sheets that I had pulled over my face, “Why God? Why?”

Anger, sad, hurt, confused, bitter- just a few of the many emotions I experienced over the next year. I had many questions for God and very few answers. But He met me in my pain. He met me in my tears. He was faithful despite my faithlessness. He was with me even when I doubted Him. I continually poured out all of those big emotions, questions and doubts at the foot of the cross because I knew Jesus could handle it. I stopped trying to dress myself with a fake smile and allowed myself to be honest with others about my pain. I learned through my vulnerability that others shared similar stories of loss and grief. And although it broke my heart to know they had walked a similar road, the reminder that I wasn’t alone brought a sense of connection, peace and healing that I truly believe is a gift from God. I now had friends who could empathize and encourage me to live a life beyond my own pain.

Strictly speaking, I'm still barren. In the eyes of my doctor, I'm still "infertile." However, unlike before, feelings of brokenness and emptiness no longer haunt me. I’m not consumed by those thoughts anymore. God healed my heart to be at peace with my circumstances. Through infertility, I’ve learned that a diagnosis doesn’t have the power to define who I am as a woman. Christ does. Colossians 2:9 tells us that if we are in Christ, we have also been made complete in Him. I don’t walk around feeling like a broken woman because my heart has found fulfillment in Jesus. No negative pregnancy test or pregnancy announcement on Facebook can change that truth. The same goes for you too, my friend.

We went to the beach last week. As I sat back watching our beautiful twins running around squealing and giggling in the waves, feelings of profound gratefulness poured over me. I couldn’t stop myself from grinning ear to ear as they ran towards me from the ocean. With daddy close behind, they screamed, “Mama, mama, mama!” For a season of my life, I never thought I'd hear those words. And now look how far the Father has brought me. I'm wrapped up in the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard from my son and daughter. Perhaps if I could have seen God’s beautiful plan to grow our family through adoption, it would have been easier to trust in Him. However, we would have forfeited a season of growth, wisdom and perspective if we were able to see how this part of our story unfolded.

There were many Mother's Days that, at the time, I didn't want to remember because the sting from the pain was too great. Maybe you can relate to my story or perhaps you are still sitting in this season of waiting.  I don't know when or if motherhood will come for you through a positive pregnancy test, adoption, or some other means. But I do know the One who knows and sees all wombs and all lives. I know the One who bore the wrenching pain of suffering and loss. And He calls us to raise our eyes from our empty wombs to the empty tomb. In my deepest pain and through all of my doubting, God was with me and Jesus is alive in me. He never left. My big emotions couldn't scare Him off and yours can't either. Don't feel like you have to dress up with a fake smile on Mother's Day. Jesus understands your loss. Your pain. You don't have to carry this burden on your own. He promises to shoulder your worst losses if you receive Him as gain.

***If you are interested in learning more about adoption and the services we provide at Christian Adoption Consultants, I would love to chat! Feel free to email me at kelly@christianadoptionconsultants.com and check out Christian Adoption Consultants for more information!***

Another Holiday Pregnancy Announcement That Isn't Mine

As a child, I anxiously looked forward to Christmas morning. I couldn’t wait to see what Santa had brought my sister and me. When I was six years old, I remember thinking I heard Santa’s reindeer on our roof. I excitedly ran into my sister’s room and jumped onto her bed and said, “Did you hear that?!” Playing along, my older sister said, “Yes!” The remainder of that conversation has drawn blank on me. But, I can still see two little girls giggling and smiling just thinking about what the next morning would bring. For many, the Christmas season exudes a sense of celebration, joy, excitement, awe, and wonder, and it should. After all, over 2,000 years ago our Savior was born. If that isn’t something to celebrate with family and friends, then I don’t know what is. But, for some, this holiday season is a reminder of great loss and pain. Perhaps the mother who used to greet you on Christmas morning with a pancake breakfast is no longer on this earth. Perhaps sitting in the living room on Christmas Eve reading the Christmas story feels different this year with the passing of your father. Maybe you were looking forward to sharing your pregnancy announcement with family and friends, but instead you are grieving the loss of your unborn child.

One of the most difficult holidays for me was Christmas 2014. Our baby’s due date was near the end of November, and I remember the anxiety that was building in my heart as the days moved toward Christmas. We were living in Louisiana at the time, and it was 70 degrees all during the month of December—bright and sunny. But I remember my heart felt very cold. I didn’t want to put up a Christmas tree, but Obbie insisted. And so, I obliged begrudgingly. I felt like there was absolutely nothing to celebrate. The baby who was supposed to be less than 30 days old and snuggling in my arms wasn’t there.

The influx of holiday pregnancy announcements filled my newsfeed. It was complete torture, but there I would find myself in the late hours of the night scrolling mindlessly through Facebook with a sad heart. Another holiday pregnancy announcement that isn’t mine, I would think to myself. Then the Christmas family photos would come—the ones with young couples and their children smiling.

Later that night, I saw a picture of six-year-old Kelly from Christmas smiling ear to ear. In that moment, I felt so distant from that little girl who was filled with so much awe and wonder. Those feelings were foreign to me. Obbie and I spent Christmas of 2014 with friends, and even though I was surrounded by a ton of people with their excited faces and giggling voices, I felt sad, empty, and alone. 

Although I am medically deemed infertile and though my womb is barren, my heart is full. And it isn’t just because our hearts (and hands!) are filled to the brim with the sweetest and silliest 18-month-old twins running around the house. After our miscarriage and before we started the adoption process, I was reminded that joy would never come through a positive pregnancy test, a child, or anything that this earth has to offer. The ultimate joy I was looking for, hoping for, and so desperately longing for was something that had already been given to me. It wasn’t a gift to be opened under the tree; it was found in the arms of my Savior. God was faithful to heal our hearts, even though our circumstances didn’t change. And as we continually ran to Him and (sometimes) fell into His arms, He filled us with the fullness of His joy. Not a temporal kind of joy, but an eternal one, the kind that enables you to sing, “It Is Well with My Soul” through life’s deepest wounds.

The holidays can bring about a sadness that on an ordinary day may exist, but during the holidays, it can seem more apparent. You are not alone. Perhaps you feel hopeless in your sadness. Perhaps your heart couldn’t feel farther from that warm, sunny, and 70-degree day. If you need to take a break from the holiday festivities, then do so, and don’t feel guilty that you have to step away from all of the excitement. But as you step away and as you grieve, my prayer for you is that you would not grieve without hope. May Christ give you the strength to grieve with hope knowing that God is the healer, protector, and redeemer of your heart. Grieve with hope knowing that God’s love for you is insurmountable and goes deeper than the pain and hurt encompassing you. Grieve with hope knowing that one day, the load you carry will feel lighter as you continue bringing your burdens to the cross. Grieve with hope knowing that the winter won't last forever and the sun will come out again.

I'm Not the Empty Woman

My infertility once defined me. Every negative pregnancy test became a reminder of what my body couldn’t do. Baby shower invites would come in the mail and my heart would be overwhelmed with bitterness, jealousy, and a reminder of the brokenness I felt in my soul. A stroll through the maternity aisle at Target felt like walking onto a stage before a mocking crowd, as if a giant spotlight was shining on my empty tummy, reminding me that I was somehow less of woman because of my barrenness. My entire life I was told the likelihood of having biological children would be very slim due to the cancer treatments I received as a baby. Even so, after we were married I was still optimistic and hopeful that somehow God would heal my body and make it do what He created it do. After all, my God is a God of miracles. I’d seen this to be true in my own life, as He healed my body of cancer more than once.

After a few years of struggling with infertility, to our surprise, a positive pregnancy test appeared. Obbie and I celebrated for days, and a small warmth filled our home. However, the baby announcement was never made. Tragedy struck as quickly as the news came in, and we were only able to keep our little one on this earth for a moment. A few weeks after learning I was pregnant, I miscarried. The weight of that loss dragged me to the bed for hours everyday. I was completely overwhelmed with sadness. My tears bathed the pillow every night, and my eyes were swollen most days from crying. Every ounce of my body was grieving. I felt hopeless. And all of those feelings of brokenness came flooding back over me as heavily and quickly as my tears hit the pillow.

The death of our unborn child felt much to me like being stuck in winter. Although some days were easier than others, certain events and dates would trigger memories and tears would follow. Anger and sadness came in ebbs and flows. But, I continued talking about the loss with God, my husband and close friends. Coming to terms with the death of our baby and the finality of my infertility hasn’t been an easy journey. But, it’s one our heavenly Father has been lovingly walking me through every step of the way. Grace gives me strength to trust Him through the pain, knowing that He is a good Father, who loves me even when I can’t quite make my way through the storm. Although most days I failed to see Him-the Son was always there. And eventually He melted the ice away and replaced my barrenness with hope- not hope in a positive pregnancy test or a child, but hope in Jesus Christ.

A doctor would tell you that I’m infertile, that statistically my chances of getting pregnant are impossible. But, I see it quite differently. God healed me. He just healed me in a different way than expected. God healed my heart to be at peace with my circumstances. Though my heart is content that doesn't equate to immunity from sadness over our loss or my infertility, but it doesn't consume my thoughts or define me like it once did.

As healing continued taking place in our hearts, we were continually seeking God about how He wanted to grow our family. We always knew that adoption would be a part of our story some day. However, we didn't realize that "day" was just around the corner. We signed on with Christian Adoption Consultants and shortly after our paths connected with a brave birth mom who chose us to be the parents of her children. Their birth mom lovingly carried the twins for 9 months in her womb, while God was growing unconditional love for them in our hearts. If any part of our story had unfolded differently or been altered just slightly, Roman and Ruby wouldn’t be our son and daughter. And I can’t imagine our life without them.

For women struggling with infertility or loss you are not defined by a statistic. Perhaps a doctor told you the chances of getting pregnant are slim to none. I understand the magnitude of that loss and the feelings that come with it. But, I also know that our joy can't be completed from a positive pregnancy test, a child or anything found on this earth. Your body isn't broken, but Christ's body was broken for you. An empty womb is not the end of your story, but a Risen King from an empty grave is the beginning.  Christ came to this earth so we could have "life in abundance" (John 10:10). This fullness is explicitly and solely found in Christ alone.

Last night both the twins awoke at the same time, and I lifted each one out of their crib. I rocked them to sleep in the brown leather recliner beside their cribs. One in each arm. As their sweet chunky cheeks rested on my shoulders, they fell asleep with one hand each on my chest. I grinned as I looked down at my son and daughter. Tears of gratefulness filled my eyes as I thought about just how much I love being their mama. As I sat there rocking our little sweeties to sleep, I thought back on our journey to becoming our family of four. I can assure you that there was nothing barren about the women rocking her sweet little ones to sleep last night. Her heart is full. She found her hope in Christ.

***If you are interested in learning more about adoption and the services we provide at Christian Adoption Consultants, I would love to chat! Feel free to email me at kelly@christianadoptionconsultants.com and check out Christian Adoption Consultants for more information!***

Something Beautiful Here

My favorite part of the day begins when I’m woken up by my two sweeties “twin talking” to each other from across their cribs. I watch from the monitor and wonder what they could be chatting about. After a few minutes, I hear my favorite words come out of their mouths, words that for so long I thought I would never hear: “Ma Ma.” My heart melts into a puddle. I walk into their room, turn on the light, and their beautiful brown eyes grab my heart and pull it in tightly. They squeal with excitement and continue babbling and giggling. Roman, my sensitive little man, reaches for me: “Ma ma.” As I pick him up, he rests his head on my shoulder and then looks at me with the most handsome dimple-filled smile I’ve ever seen. Ruby, my independent little lady, reaches for me, and as I squeeze her up she wraps her little arm around my neck. I give her a kiss on the cheek, and she flashes those beautiful pearly whites at me like she does 100 times a day. I stare in amazement at our two beautiful children. I try to freeze the picture in my mind so I don’t forget. I don’t want to move from this moment. If only I could have seen the beautiful masterpiece that God was orchestrating for our family. If only I could have seen the beautiful plan God had in store, it would have made it easier to trust Him. But then again, that wouldn’t be faith now would it?

Though I’m grateful for this work-in-progress masterpiece now, there were times when I was confused about what God’s brush strokes were creating. It was as if my life was a piece of unfinished artwork hanging in a big fancy white art gallery. I imagined myself standing before the art that God was constructing and asking Him, “What are you doing God? This doesn’t make sense. This doesn’t look good to me! I think it would look better with a little blue here, and a little yellow there and take that out…that’s just not right.”

Can you imagine if Monet had listened to the critics who called his paintings “formless, unfinished and ugly?” I imagine his artwork would look quite a bit different, and his title as one of the most famous painters in history would’ve been forfeited. But there I have stood many times giving the Master Artist, the Creator of the entire Universe, my critiques. I imagine Him listening to my “suggestions” with a grin on His face, as He pulls me in closely and says, “My daughter, you can’t see it just yet, but I’m creating a MASTERPIECE, something more beautiful than you could ever imagine.”

Following His brush strokes has been a daily act of surrender, trusting that He knows what is best for my life, and truly believing that He “withholds no good thing” from His children (Psalm 84:11). It isn’t easy to trust God in the unknown, but that’s what He calls us to do. And guess what? God supplies us with His grace to do just that - trust. We can be certain and confident that we serve a good Father who loves us more than we can wrap our earthly minds around. So, let your heart rest on that truth for a minute. Our Heavenly Father loves YOU so much that He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to die a gruesome and painful death on the cross for my sins, for your sins, for her sins and for his sins so that we might come to know Him.

Perhaps in this very moment you feel forgotten, as if God was in the very middle of creating your masterpiece and just left it there as is. He hasn’t. He is right there, brush struck in hand. He works at His own pace and in His own time. Maybe you can relate to the girl at the art gallery confused with the very piece of work that is supposed to be her life. “What are you doing God? What are you up to? I don’t understand. This is so painful. This hurts too much.” I’ve been there too.

Although my heart is so full, it hasn’t always been easy. Through the cancer, infertility and loss, God has been faithful. It is through those painfully slow brush strokes that I felt the depths of His grace, love and kindness and learned there is no end to it. Even when your eyes can’t see what God is up to and you find it hard to follow His brush strokes-He is at work. He is creating a masterpiece- something MORE BEAUTIFUL than you could ever imagine.