29 results for tag: Jennie

Will I recognize my baby in heaven?

One of the things that happens after losing a baby to miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss is a battering of questions from deep places in our hearts, such as, “What will my baby be like in heaven? Will they always be a baby? Will I recognize them? Will they recognize me?” These are tender, personal questions that come from love and longing. We were created to know and be known, and that desire runs especially deep within families, and with our children, where bonds feel so immediate and instinctive. And while Scripture doesn’t give us explicit answers to each of them, it does give us something steady to hold onto, a hope rooted in truth, ...

Holding Space on Holy Saturday

I’m always caught off guard by how tragedy is inevitably invaded by the ordinary. I am sure you can relate. After our babies died, didn’t it feel so wrong that most of the world went on as usual? I remember emerging from the silence of the hospital, the quiet of the house, the darkness of the day of her funeral, and feeling so disoriented by the routine bustle of life. People in cars driving places. Laughter on playgrounds. Shoppers downtown. Planes taking off from runways. Didn’t they know what had just happened? I remember having to resist the urge to scream, “Stop!” How can life drum on when the world has been turned upside down? But ...

When You Feel Angry

Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. Therefore put away all filthiness and rampant wickedness and receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls. —James 1:19–21 There are days when anger rises in my spirit faster than I expect. I know Scripture calls me to resist “the anger of man,” because it does not produce righteousness or reflect the heart of God. God is righteous in all His ways, never impatient, never angry over the wrong things, never lashing out in selfish rage or retreating into ...

If your story looks different than you imagined

When My Dreams Didn’t Match God’s Plan I never imagined I would become a Hope Mom. I know pregnancy books mention loss somewhere in the fine print, but it always felt distant to me. I didn’t know anyone in my real life who had lost a baby, and it seemed like the kind of thing that happened to other people, not something that would ever touch my story. My first pregnancy ended early, with a tiny two-pound, ten-ounce baby boy born eleven weeks too soon. The months that followed were filled with alarms, monitors, and long days in the NICU, but he lived. He came home, he grew, and by the time he was three, he was happy and healthy, and ...

An Invitation to Keep Christ at the Center

We made it through the holidays, friends. Maybe they were heavier than you hoped they’d be, filled with quiet reminders of the little one who’s missing. Or maybe there were moments of sweetness you didn’t expect, and those surprised you too. Either way, here we are on the other side of the celebrations and I am proud of us. By God’s grace, we are still standing, still breathing, and still moving forward. As the calendar turned last week, does it now feel like we are watching the world rush into a new year full of goals and resolutions? So many are chasing new habits, new routines, and new versions of themselves. New year, new you, ...

A Weary World, A Weary Heart, and a Hope That Still Holds

I am so sorry for the rough road you may have walked to get to this day. Christmas Eve can make grief feel even thicker, especially if this month hasn’t looked the way you hoped it would. Maybe you didn’t end up doing every tradition you planned. Maybe the holidays felt heavier than you expected. Maybe joy has been hard to access this year. If that’s true for you, I want to gently remind you: it’s okay to be weary. It’s okay to not be okay, to not feel full of holiday cheer, and to not have had the capacity for everything you hoped to do. The hurts, heartaches, and exhaustion can feel especially intense tonight. When you’re pregnant ...

When Hope Feels Fragile

There are seasons of grief when hope feels impossibly small. Not gone, but fragile. Like something you’re holding gently in the palm of your hand because you’re afraid if you grip it too tightly, it might crumble. The holiday season can make that feeling even more noticeable. Everywhere you look, people are talking about joy, peace, and light, and those words can feel so far from what’s happening inside your heart. You may find yourself thinking, “I want those things. I really do. But I’m not there yet.” And that’s okay. After I lost my daughter, I remember trying to step back into the rhythm of life and faith. I wanted to feel ...

When God Feels Far Away

There are days in grief when God feels painfully distant. You know the verses, you’ve heard the promises, and you’ve prayed the prayers, but there is still this quiet ache inside you asking, “God, where are You?” I remember reading Scripture in those early weeks after losing my daughter and feeling like the words were flat, like they weren’t sinking into me at all. I would try to pray, and all I could manage were small fragments of sentences. And sometimes not even that. Sometimes it was only tears and thoughts I couldn’t speak. It can be so hard to admit when God feels far away. I think there’s a subtle shame attached to it, as if ...

When Grief Makes You Go Quiet

December has a way of making grief louder. Or maybe it just makes everything else louder, and your grief feels even more out of place than usual. Everyone seems to be moving on with their lives. They’re hanging stockings, making plans, and doing their best to live something that looks “merry,” while you’re still sitting in the same ache. I remember the silence that lived inside me after losing my daughter. I didn’t know how to answer simple questions anymore. Someone would text, “How are you today?” and I’d stare at the words because I didn’t know where to begin. Nothing had changed. My baby was still gone. My heart still ...

When Gratitude Feels Impossible

For many, Thanksgiving is a season of abundance, celebration, and gratitude. But for the grieving mom, gratitude can feel not just hard, but impossible. Her precious baby is missing from pumpkin patch photos and the family table. She’s not buying the “Mama’s Little Turkey” bib or a “Baby’s First Thanksgiving” outfit. She’s carrying a silent sorrow, and her heart feels out of sync with the season. When your arms ache for a child you can’t hold, how do you give thanks?  When your heart is shattered and your prayers seem unanswered, how do you rejoice?  When everyone else is counting blessings and you’re counting losses, ...