Every year for the past several years on October 15^th, I’ve felt the urge to write something deep, thoughtful, contemplative, and encouraging to those going through pregnancy and infant loss. Maybe it would also be enlightening and awakening to those who have never personally experienced such a thing but feel drawn to encourage or care for those who do. Every year on October 15^th, I am reminded that I have a story to tell and that there are others who might benefit from that story. And so, every year on October 15^th, I crack the lid on a “box” where I have shoved so many emotions. I glance into that deep place where so many hurts are buried and so many emotions lay hidden. And as I begin to remember what is there, and start to deal with those emotions, I quickly close the lid and think, “I’ll write something encouraging next year. This year, I don’t want to think about the sad and the loss. And everyone else out there that is writing and sharing about it seems to have their act together. If I start talking or writing, I’ll be a blubbering mess, and the real emotion that I keep stuffed down may come pouring out.” That’s when I realized that to so many people, I may seem like I have my act together. I might seem like I don’t still hurt when I think of the nine babies I never got to hold. I might seem like all of my dreams have come true and I don’t still struggle to make it through some days because there is still hurt. Oh, friend, there is still a hurt in my heart from so many dark days and so much loss that only Jesus can fill.

When I allow myself to look a little deeper into that “box” of hurt and emotions, I am reminded of the nine little figurines that are kept in a special place in our home. Each of those little figures represents one of our babies that went to be with Jesus before we got to hold them. That “box” also holds many memories of dark days where I sat alone in my room, crying out to God and asking Him why He took my babies that I so wanted. I see a broken woman holding God accountable for every promise I could find in His word; I reminded Him of the promise that He would not withhold any good thing from me if I walked uprightly (Psalm 84:11). I demanded that He tell me what he wanted of me; His response from Micah 6:8 to “Seek justice, love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God” seemed almost too simple, but I was into simple then. I’m still into simple. I mean, it doesn’t get much more simple than “Jesus wept” in John 11:35. Jesus felt sorrow over the loss of His friend. He cried, He mourned, He felt the loss. He knows what it’s like to lose someone and to hurt. He gets me.

There are many, many beautiful, happy days now. They are full of hope and joy. But the hope and the joy started long before I held my baby for the first time. The hope and the joy began even before we found out we were pregnant for the fourth time and we had hope that this baby might live. I felt that hope and that joy when I finally told God I couldn’t handle the stupid circumstances of my life that He had put me in and that I had no idea how in the world He expected me to live with a positive attitude when He had taken so much from me. And at that moment, I realized that all I had to do was just be held by God and that those children I thought He had taken from me were never mine to begin with. They were a gift for the fleeting moment they were a part of my life. And as I let my expectations go and as I let myself just be with God, there was peace and joy and hope.

And now you know that I don’t have my act together. I never have. Today I bawled me way through putting away El’s clothes that are too small because I couldn’t help but think about her sisters that never had a chance to wear clothes like that. This is it. This is our family. Each day with my little miracles is a gift from God. We take it one day at a time. There is still hurt, but my focus on the positive and all God has given me lessens the ache and makes me excited for an eternity getting to know those babies who have gone on before me. So maybe in the future, October 15^th will be just a bit easier, and maybe, just maybe, by sharing my struggles and hurts, it will encourage someone else who is in the midst of their dark “box.” Take hope, my friend. You are not alone.