24 results for tag: Sam

Psalm 16 Reflections {Rejoice}

 If you’re new here or haven’t participated before, we’re so glad you joined us! Here’s how it works: To participate in our Psalm 16 Reflections link-up, all you have to do is write on the word or phrase of the week, post your words on your own blog, and link up the post here (via the InLinkz button at the bottom of the post). Be sure to add the actual permalink to your specific post, and not your blog’s homepage (e.g. https://hopemommies.org/psalm-16-reflections and not just hopemommies.org). If you don’t have a blog, you’re welcome to post your reflection in the comments here each week! This is meant to be ...

Why I Don’t Like the Term “Rainbow Baby”

I first heard the term “rainbow baby” following the loss of my first child due to miscarriage in January 2016. At the time it seemed like a fitting, if not a little too cheesy, name for what I hoped would follow our devastating loss. But now, several months out from the birth and subsequent death of my “rainbow” son, Max, I’m not a fan of the phrase. Rainbows connote hope after the storm; a beautiful, heavenly light appearing out of the darkness. More importantly, rainbows carry the weight of God’s promise; they are God’s sign that He would never again flood the earth. Rainbows are a reminder to us that God is ever-faithful and ...

I See You

To the mama whose arms are empty this Mother’s Day– I see you. I see your pain. I see your emptiness. I see your grief. I see your longing. But mostly, I see your love. I know this is a hard day. A day that reminds us of what should have been and isn't. Or what once was but no longer is. This day acutely reminds us of how very broken this world is. I don’t know your story or your specific loss, but I do know your hurt. I don’t know if you’ve lost a child to miscarriage, still birth, infant death, or sickness. Or maybe your child is still living but for whatever reason they’re no longer a part of your world. Whatever the reason ...

Sam’s Story

2016 began with great joy as my husband and I celebrated our first pregnancy—one that quickly ended in miscarriage on January 14, around 7-8 weeks. I had never felt devastation, disappointment, and pain like I experienced over that next several weeks as I grieved a child I had never known. A few months later, we were again expecting. At 12 weeks, we learned that we were having a son and that he likely had Down Syndrome. We were overwhelmed by fear of the unknown and sadness for what we thought would be a difficult life for our son. As we waited for additional scans to confirm whether or not he did have DS, we felt that we were living in a sort of ...