Christi’s Story

“There’s no heartbeat.” Four words—words no parent ever wants to hear. My husband and I have three daughters, so at our 20 week sonogram, the four words we were hoping to hear were, “You’re having a boy!” But on September 13, 2016, those other four words changed our lives forever. We left the office, drove home, and told our daughters that the baby we all wanted so badly was not going to be coming home with us. Two days later, we delivered the son we hoped for, but not the way we hoped to. Angel was stillborn due to chord issues. The pain of saying hello and good-bye to our son in the span of a few hours was crushing.

While we were in the hospital, I received a Hope Box. It instantly brought comfort to my aching heart. I knew that even though I would be leaving the hospital without my son, I would not be leaving alone in my grief. The first few days after we lost Angel, calls and messages came continuously from friends and family offering condolences, prayers, and love, but as the days passed, the quiet set in. I was left feeling alone. I longed to connect with people who really understood what I was going through and who could offer empathy and comfort for the ache in my heart.  Within six weeks, I attended my first Hope Mommies’ dinner where I got to meet with other Hope Moms and talk about my sweet son. I could feel my healing begin. 

Five months after we lost Angel, we found out we were expecting again, but we did not get to meet baby number five either. At eight weeks, I became a Hope Mommy to a second baby.

We named our second hope baby, Emmaus. I had heard a sermon on Luke 24 just two weeks earlier, and found myself relating to the disciples in a profound way. Sitting in church, I remember being moved by the actions Jesus took with the disciples as He met them on the road to Emmaus, on the path they were walking in the midst of their grief and doubt. He met them there, in that place. He shared the words of the prophets, broke bread with them, prayed with them, and in doing so they recognized Him. When Jesus revealed Himself to them, He restored their hope and faith, and then they went to tell the others. The name Emmaus just fit. There was hope in the pain and the loss, because of Jesus.   

I wish I could say that recalling the sermon and Jesus’ faithfulness made me whole. It didn’t. I wasn’t there yet. It was like someone hit a pause button on the healing I had been experiencing. I wasn’t worse, but I stopped moving forward in my healing. I felt like the disciples felt on the road to Emmaus before Jesus arrived.

“And they stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, named Cleopas, answered Him, ‘Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?’ And He said to them, ‘What things?’ And they said to Him, “Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, a man who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and rulers delivered Him up to be condemned to death, and crucified Him. But we had hoped that He was the one to redeem Israel.”
Luke 24:17–21 (emphasis added)

There it was. “But we had hoped.”  Past tense. They had been there with Jesus, had a close personal relationship with Him, and trusted Him for years. But now, after three days and a difficult loss, they were left lost, defeated, and doubting all Jesus had promised, and they didn’t even recognize Him. And I was stuck there with them.

Almost a year later, I went to the Hope Mommies’ retreat, trying to be hopeful, but carrying more anger than I could admit. I wanted to Hope again. I wanted to believe all of the Scriptures I knew by heart. Before the retreat, I would hear the song, “Good, Good Father,” and change the station. Hearing it literally made me angry. So what song did we end up singing at retreat every session? You guessed it! Only, I could not change the station this time.

I could feel God speaking to me, and as He did all the anger I had been hiding from and wrestling with slowly gave way to tears of release and brokenness. I felt our Father say, “Just because this doesn’t feel good, does not mean I am not good. You are loved by Me in your anger, in your grief, and in your Hope. I love you and I want to know you. Let your anger go and hold on to me instead.”

I physically felt myself unclench my fists in that moment and raised my open hands to Heaven. In that moment, I knew I had to stop making my relationship with God about my feelings and instead focus on His promises. I had to let go of my anger and heartache and cling to God and His promises instead. I needed to come back to hope in the present tense. 

I left the retreat restored—with my hope and joy renewed. I pray that if you are in a place of loss, grief, or despair that hearing my story helps. I pray that you will be willing to let God restore you and your hope.

These verses have helped me as I cling to hope and God’s promises in place of my doubt and anger. I pray they will help you.

“Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and sustain me with a willing spirit.”
Psalm 51:12

“Sorrow may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”
Psalm 30:5

May your joy, your hope, and your healing be in the present tense.

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Christi lives in Texas with her husband Jacob and their daughters. She is a mom to 3 daughters on earth and our 2 babies in Heaven. Christi has been involved with Hope Mommies for 2 years.

 

 

We would be honored to share your story as a Hope Mom on our blog. On Saturdays we feature Hope Moms’ stories in order to showcase God’s faithfulness even in the midst of such deep sorrow. If you would like to have your story shared on our blog for this purpose, learn more and submit here.

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