My Hope Mommies Retreat Experience

The Hope Mommies Retreat in 2014 was announced late in 2013, and I had only recently been connected with the group online when I saw the announcement. I had looked through the FAQs, worship leaders, and speaker tabs, but I was still on the fence about attending.

What would the retreat look like? Would it just be a bunch of women sitting around crying and telling their sad stories? What if I felt uncomfortable sharing? What if they forced me to get up and share anyways?

I had a lot of questions.

I ended up being one of the “last minute” people to register, but when I finally took that step of faith I got a pretty strong confirmation that I had done the right thing.

It came in the form of a post on this very blog: it was written by the Prayer Team Leader, Kellye Tillford. It wasn’t extremely lengthy, but Kellye wrote about her adventure in going to a junk yard and picking out a set number of coffee mugs to decorate for the retreat. It was in the flow of her story telling of picking through the broken pieces of porcelain and dirt that moved me. As I read, Kellye talked of taking all the mugs home and starting to pray over them as she washed them for decoration.

This person, who I’d never met, was speaking my daughter’s name to God and thanking Him for her life. Kellye, with her raw compassion, was shedding tears over my daughter’s short life, even though she never met me.

I cried as she shared her heart for Hope Mommies and why she had felt called to donate her time to loving on her friends who had lost children. Somewhere in that blogpost, I felt like I became instant friends with Kellye, and I knew I wanted to meet her.

Once retreat became a reality, I had some logistical decisions to make. The form had asked if I wanted to pick a roommate, but at the time I didn’t know a single other Hope Mom. There were several requests for carpools posted on a separate Facebook site just for the retreat attendees, but I didn’t want to commit to that. What if these people were weird? What if they grieved differently than me? What if their stories were so different we couldn’t relate?

I made the 3 hour drive down to Austin by myself, my stomach doing flips the entire way. I wove through the hill country on the North East side of Austin and finally saw the entrance way to the camp we were staying at. As soon as I saw the “Hope Mommies” banner strung up on the fence, I let out an audible “yay!” to nobody listening.

My first impression when I walked in the greeting room was that everything was really pretty. Girly pretty, delicate and lacy and rustic all at once. I checked in and got my bunk assignment. One of the first people I met was a girl named Sarah Erwin, and Sarah had written a note that was in the Hope Box I had received. I couldn’t tell her enough how much her note had meant to me because it had plugged me in to this amazing group.

Once in my cabin, I noticed all the details that the leaders had put out.

This was our cabin, set for four Hope Moms to meet!

On the mirror was written, “Welcome! We’ve been praying for you!”

Several of these little verse cards dotted the room.

Eventually, my first roommate showed up. She came in schlepping a scrapbook and a rather large box of things. “Hi!” she breathed. “I’m Elyse. I probably over packed.” She said with a big smile.

I introduced myself and we started chatting. Turns out, we actually had losses within a week of each other in hospitals a mere 7 miles apart. Her story was different than mine, but we were able to talk about all the thing we had in common. It seemed as we talked that our grief was similar, even though her child had been diagnosed early with a terminal genetic defect and our loss was sudden and unexpected. Her loss had been one of preparation, or as much as you can in that situation, balancing between hope and reality. Mine was like ripping off a bandaid, no way of knowing or preparing.

To be honest, I think we instantly became friends because we both knew  what it was like to hold our children who were no longer here. We talked about all the things that happen after the birth, from our bodies to our marriages to our friends.

And it felt really good to talk.

Throughout the weekend, Elyse and I stuck together. We listened as Erin told her testimony from the front of the room that first night, her eyes shining with tears as she told us about her beautiful Gwendolyn. We listened to Sandra McCracken sing, and Lauren Taylor lead us in worship.

We had options to pick different break out groups to discuss topics that were specific to our grief. We talked about marriage after loss, our faith after loss, all the things that we weren’t “allowed” to talk about at length in the outside world.

Retreat provided a safe place for my grief. It connected me with other moms who had situations similar to mine, but also moms like Elyse that had different stories. It connected me with moms from the same town, which eventually has lead to the development of a chapter of Hope Mommies in Dallas. The year since the retreat brought rainbow babies for the a lot of the Hope Moms I had met. Elyse and I were even pregnant together and due within a week of each other.

Attending the retreat was pivotal to my grief. I had finally found a group that would support and love each other on the hard days, and also remind each other gently of the unwavering grace of God. The weekend grew my faith, validated my grief, and changed my heart.

by Amy Munoz, Hope Mom to Kaitlyn Sophia