Why miscarriage matters when you're pro-life

Photo Credit: Sarah Thompson @ Sarah T. Photography

[For those of you who are revisiting this blog, or maybe are seeing it for the first time, I encourage you to join me in my new space The Lewis Note for more posts like this.]

Back in my former life, I was a proofreader.

We were a fabulous group of gals. But, I'm not going to lie -- we were pretty nitpicky. And NOT the most popular in the office. In fact, we had not just one book, but multiple books by which we would mentally check each word, each phrase, each sentence.

We had rules about whether a dash should be the size of a capital "N" or a capital "M" (and yes, we did measure). We ensured the proper use of "insured," then assured all the writers that, yes, everyone gets those words mixed up. And of course, we must never forget to correct the spacing on an ellipsis. (#.#.#.#). Very important, that one.

But we had one rule that trumped all rules:

Consistency was king.

You see, on most issues, you could get away with breaking a rule or two -- as long as you were consistent.

And now, after both quitting my job and going through 3 first-trimester losses in a row (primarily surrounded by pro-lifers), I really wish I could say the same thing about life. And about pregnancy loss.

I must make a disclaimer (to all my friends and family reading this) -- You did the best you could. And for the most part, I felt loved and I knew that so many of you grieved with me.

To be perfectly honest, before my losses, I didn't quite understand that the way we pro-lifers treat miscarriage is important.

And yet after we lost Olivia, it didn't take long for me to realize that in this Christian microcosm of ours, somehow an aborted baby had so much more to offer the world than a miscarried one.

Both babies may have died at the same gestation -- one by choice, the other by chance. But the value attached to each child completely depended on how that child died.

Here are some of the mixed messages I received -- sometimes just hinted at, other times outright:

An aborted baby deserves to be grieved. A miscarried one deserves to be gotten over. And quickly. 

An aborted baby could have been the next Einstein or Bach or Mother Theresa. A miscarried baby was probably damaged goods.

An aborted baby was killed against God's design. A miscarried baby fulfilled God's plans.

An aborted baby was a real person, and should have the rights as such. A miscarried baby was not a real child -- naming them really is kinda weird. Speaking of weird . . . counting them in the line-up of your children? THAT'S weird!

An aborted baby should always be missed in this world. God had created them for a purpose, no matter what health issues they may have had. A miscarried baby was meant for heaven -- and we moms should just be so thankful we have a baby in heaven, and should not grieve the loss of their place on earth. After all, they never TRULY had a place on earth, did they?

An aborted baby is a tragedy. A miscarried baby is slight bump on the road of life.

An aborted baby could never be replaced. A miscarried baby can always be replaced -- "Oh, don't worry, hon -- your time will come again. You'll have more. Just relax and trust God. You'll see."

An aborted baby's mom should know exactly what she's missing out on if she has living children. A miscarried baby's mom should not grieve that loss, but instead, should just be thankful for the lives of her living children.

This isn't a debate about abortion. Really, it's not.

It's a call to those of you who say you are pro-life. It's a call to be consistent.

Do you really believe life -- personhood -- begins at conception? If so, standing up against abortion is understandable. But so is treating a miscarriage as a real death of a real person.

Perhaps instead of just standing outside of Planned Parenthood . . . Instead of just posting on Facebook your outrage at the laws in the land . . . Instead of praying for your neighbor's cousin's boyfriend's daughter who is considering abortion . . .

What if you took it one step further?

What if you held the hand of a grieving mom who miscarried at 4 weeks, 6 weeks, 18 weeks or more?

What if you never compared the loss of a 4-weeker to a 20-weeker?

What if you never said anything that started with, "At least . . . " As in, "At least it happened early." Or, "At least you didn't get too attached." Or, "At least you have one living child. You should be thankful for them."

What if you didn't try to stifle her tears? What if you welcomed them? And matched her tears with your own?

What if you held back any trite, easy answers that promised God's will and promised easy comfort? What if you just wrapped your arms around her the way Christ would?

What if you made that meal, bought those flowers and wrote that card?

What if you went to the hospital and sat in the waiting room for her, even if you wouldn't see her? Just because she is your friend. Just because that's what you do when someone is sick in the hospital or their child is dying.

What if you called her child by name?

What if you went to the service if they planned one? What if you helped her find a support group? What if you offered to go with her?

What if you prayed constantly for that hole in her heart that will one day scab, one day scar, but will never fully heal?


What if you were consistent? What if all your actions when dealing with loss of any kind, affirmed that fact that all life -- ALL LIFE -- is good, worthy of recognition and worthy of grief.

What if you didn't just affirm to the world that all babies are valuable -- but you also affirmed to a bereaved mom that HER baby was irreplaceable, and would forever be missed?

A person is a person . . . no matter how small.

And I would add . . . no matter when or how they died.

P.S. If my post spoke to you in any way, please consider sharing. Thanks for helping me spread the word that miscarriage matters!

P.P.S.  Many of the guys have posted comments on here, or emailed me. I want you to know -- I haven't forgotten you, even though I admit my post was written from a girl's perspective. MEN NEED SUPPORT TOO!

My husband wrote an awesome blog on HIS version of our story. I think all of you should read it. If you're a man, you might be able to relate. If you are a woman, you are likely dealing with a man who is grieving, and this was a huge help to me to understand his actions.

P.P.P.S. I am NOT implying that pro-choice person would not grieve a miscarriage. That would be another blog, and since that isn't my experience, it's probably best for one of you to write that post! The comparison I'm making is NOT how a pro-life mom vs. a pro-choice mom grieves. The comparison is how the pro-life community as a whole views miscarried vs. aborted babies. Just clarifying the issue, because there seems to be some confusion on that based on the comments below.

P.P.P.P.S. I'm blown away by the response to this blog! I just wanted to tell you how blessed I am to know you are reading, and then in turn, to hear your thoughts and stories. Whoever out there is sharing this THANK YOU!

I love your comments, and I promise, I am reading each one!

You are so welcome to comment -- but I just want to put a disclaimer out there. Since this is my space, and my purpose was not to start a debate on abortion, I won't be publishing the comments that are geared toward the morals of abortion. While some of your thoughts I can relate to, understand, or even agree with -- my goal here is not to start an argument, but to offer support. I hope you understand. So if you don't see your comment (and there are only a handful like this), feel free to reword and resubmit.

Thank you all. And much love to each of you.

quick adoption update

Hey everyone.

It's a busy week in the Lewis household, and I wanted to give a quick update.

We THOUGHT we had all our adoption paperwork in, but they asked for one more piece of paperwork that we now need to find. :( At least we are ALMOST done.

Then disclosure can officially be done.

We have court on Wed -- the day I was HOPING would be finalization day -- but it's not. Not sure what to expect at court this time, as it really just seems like a formality -- for what, I'm not sure.

As of now, we are hoping for finalization in 5-6 weeks. So, I'm thinking early, mid-March.


Several of you have asked how our video went, and I think it went well. It seemed to touch peoples' hearts. I haven't heard back about the meeting yet. I'm just trusting God that He used it however He wanted.



On Thursday, dark and early, I leave for our pregnancy and infancy loss support group's leadership conference. (Try saying THAT 3 times fast.)

I feel a little scattered this week, as I know I just need to get through the next two busy days, and be ready for all that our conference holds for us.


Last year was really good, and I'm hoping for the same this year. We have a different team going this year than last, so it will hopefully help us build strong relationships. A few days this week I have felt "stuck" in, I don't know, in a funk? Maybe that's what I should just call it.

Not loss. not grief. not recurrent loss.

Just a funk.

I'm not going to lie, I'm a little nervous still about going. I know it will be a blessing -- but sometimes immersing yourself in a culture surrounded by loss can bring a lot to the surface. I don't want to be in a funk anymore.

On another note, my detox went amazingly well. I'm going to be resuming it for February as soon as I get home from Texas. And I'm planning on eliminating gluten for the next 6 months to see how my body does. I've done the detox before, but I think this time, its just that much more informative and life-changing.

Arbonne is going great, and our team is taking off. I'm so proud of the girls on my team, and I'm so excited to see where this year is going to take us. I feel my passion for my business reigniting, and it really makes me happy to see that even as not EVERYTHING has gone according to my plan, I still have a career I love, friends and family surrounding me, and a very good life.

God and I are doing well, and I'm thankful always for Him. Ryan and I are doing well, too, even as I think our biggest struggle right now is handling little miss's fits. She has a strong personality, and that can be hard sometimes. We're having a home eval done by HollyRidge soon, so we'll see if they can give us some more pointers on how to help her calm herself down better.

I guess that was less of an "adoption" update, and more of a "Rachel" update -- but there you go.

Minus some "funk," I think I'm doing pretty well.

I'll keep you all posted once I get a date for the adoption finalization!

Rachel

Alicia's Story: An update

You may remember Alicia's story that I posted a few months ago, of 9 years of infertility and a stillbirth at 22 weeks. Many of you shared an outpouring of support for her.

 

Recently, she sent me a little update, and said I could pass it along.

 

I am hopeful and excited to see what this new chapter brings her. Below, she shares her latest news . . .

 

Rachel

 

 

This past November, I had the privilege of sharing the story of my stillborn son Kenneth born at 22 weeks.

 

 

 

Grieving throughout the holidays seemed unbearable and I thought my husband and I would never get over our loss. I had begun to think that all hope was lost in my marriage, and most important, for me to conceive. My husband and I had begun to seek out infertility specialists expecting to have difficulties getting pregnant again. I mentally tortured myself thinking that it would take as much as 9 years to have a baby again. I constantly asked myself, "Would you go through the same ordeal you endured trying to conceive Kenneth?" My answer is yes. I'd give my life to have my child living on this Earth.

 

Our son came to me in my dreams last night. What a vision! What a sight it was to see him with a halo over his head and with wings spread open behind his back. He was holding this glowing light and without saying a word, I heard him "say," "Here's a gift."

 

 

Now I didn't know what this gift was, or when I'd exactly receive it, but I just knew I couldn't wait for it to arrive. When I awakened I had this overwhelming feeling to take a pregnancy test. My husband luckily invested in keeping some handy around the house (just in case). I was already three days late although I kept fooling myself in thinking that my period would be irregular for a while after the stillbirth.

 

 

Upon learning, just this morning, that I'm pregnant again has me so confused. I'm experiencing a mixed emotion of elation and grief. It's such a difficult thing to understand when I keep telling myself don’t get excited, what happened before might happen again.
 

I've foolishly sworn husband to secrecy. Because my first pregnancy was such a loss to others as well, I'd hate to put them through such a thing again. I might change my mind as time progresses but I don't feel comfortable letting anyone know yet. It shames me some having to do so especially considering how close I am to my mother and sister. Ultimately, I'm prepared for whatever God has in the works.

I just wanted to share my journey in childbirth like you have. Your blog has been a godsend for me. Thank you for listening. Keep my expectant bundle of joy in your prayers.

Becoming

How does one describe living with loss?

I cannot.

It is always with me. A shadow on my heart. An imprint, stamped forever. Never gone. With me everywhere. With everyone.

Sometimes I forget about it. Just like I forget my heart is beating, my lungs are breathing, my fingers feeling.

But it is there, reminding me every once in a while lest I ever forget.



Today I watched a beautiful baby as she tried to walk. She played with toys, clung to her momma, and cried when the room was quiet.

And I ached for Olivia. Just ached.

Sometimes my losses compound as one. Sometimes I am sad I'm considered infertile now, and can't just get pregnant. Sometimes I wonder, what did I do to NOT deserve to have my baby grow healthy, strong? What did I do that SHE didn't do?

It doesn't matter who SHE is.

Sometimes SHE is someone I know . . . someone with a full, round belly rolling with child.

Sometimes SHE is a friend . . . brand-new in pregnancy and has nothing to fear or expect other than the wonderful glow of a precious new little.

Sometimes SHE is just a stranger, passing by unaware that her joy reminds me of my pain.

And I can't blame any of them.

How could I? Do I know the road they had to travel to get to this point? Do I know what life has in store for them later down the road? Or maybe the hardships they've endured that have nothing to do with fertility? Do I think of the fact that maybe they look at me with my two children, and MY joy reminds them of THEIR pain?

No.

I just ache. It is simply that.

I hurt. And I smile. And I joke. And I laugh.

And I wish away the pain that makes others so uncomfortable. I lie that I am not jealous, that I would not trade bodies with them in an instant to have what they have. I do my best to stay silent as others complain of pregnancy symptoms. I still the quiet, bitter spirit that longs to say things that would probably stab. Because that person is not me.


And sometimes I forget.

The ache is gone. The heavinesss of heart parts for free sprit. The laughter I hear is my own.

It sounds foreign.

I take time to take it in. I am . . . happy.

Strange. How weird it feels to laugh, to joke, to make fun. How strange to fall asleep wrapped in my love's arms feeling whole, instead of sobs rocking me to sleep.

How light this feels.

The joy of two girls fill my arms, fill my soul. I have so much love, I wonder if I can hold it in.

I feel blessed. Who am I to deserve this love?

And then comes another word, another reminder, another "maybe THIS is the reason."

And my free spirit feels shackled yet again. Familiar chains. Comforting chains.

Grief has become so comfortable to me, it has become my safe place.

Life. Joy. Love. Freedom.

These.

They scare me at times, and I wonder if they are mine to keep. I am hungry for them, but the taste sometimes is too sweet, too coyingly sweet, that I cannot consume in full.

I take small bites.

Baby steps.

A joke.

A laughter.

A day.

And slowly, I become who I am becoming.

And whoever that person is, I hope she is better, stronger, more loving than the one I laid to rest the day before.

Detox bootcamp! What is it? And is it a good fit for you?

"So, let me get this straight. You're thin . . . and you want to go on a diet?"

"If you don't eat dairy, wheat, gluten, alcohol, coffee, different fruits, processed foods, white anything . . . um . . . what DO you eat?"

"Why is it called a detox?"

"So, are you not eating any REAL food? Are you filling your body with artificial supplements?"

"Are you  supposed to eat this way forever? And if not, what's the difference between this and a diet?"

All perfectly valid questions. And I'm happy you asked. (Aren't you?)

I like to call this detox a BOOTCAMP. Here's why:

When you go to bootcamp, it's meant to be for a season. You take away distractions from your focus. You surround yourself with people who are like-minded. Every day, discipline and regulations are pounded into you until they become second nature. You are out of your comfort zone, and only then, can you change. You break free from relying on others for your emotional health, and learn to rely more on yourself. You forego some rights, but for the greater good. You take the good habits, the discipline, you learned at camp and you begin to apply them to help you achieve your goals.

In short, it's a season of intense training to help you develop HABITS that will help you become successful in the future.

And that's exactly what this detox bootcamp does.

It is meant to be for a season (1-2 months). You take away the food that could be potentially allergenic, cause inflammation, cause blood-sugar spikes, or overall is simply not healthy to your body.

By joining our Facebook group, you are surrounded by 50+ people who are working toward the same health goals you are. You encourage each other, and admit to them when you are having a hard time.

Every day of the detox, you learn discipline. Every time you say "no" to an unhealthy snack, or a craving that you really don't need, you learn how often you used to say "yes" to those things. Constant repetition in a short amount of time really settles in the discipline. Toward the end, you become more addicted to how you FEEL when you are eating clean, than you are to all those unhealthy cravings.

You are out of your comfort zone. Only when we challenge what we believe to be true about our food -- only when we do our due diligence -- do we find that we really can change and WANT to change.

You break free from relying on coffee (ME! ME! ME!) for your emotional health. (or soda. or sugar. or cake. or bread. or wine.) You realize that instead of buying a Starbucks to feel better, you can buy yourself a $5 bouquet of flowers. You can write someone you love a letter. You can give yourself 15 minutes extra time to read a book you enjoy. You learn that,

You forego some food. Yep, it's hard. When I go to someone's house for a party, it's hard to turn down a cup of coffee or glass of wine. It's hard to forego the cake and ice cream. Like I said in my previous post, this isn't a namby-pamby detox. But -- it IS worth it. And that my friends, is what really takes the cake.

You take the good habits, all the know-how you've learned, the clean-eating recipes and tips, and you start applying them to your real life. We recommend the 80/20 principle. 80% of the time, eat whole clean foods, just like you did on the detox. 20% of the time, splurge a little and enjoy life.

In short, it's a season of intense training to help you develop HABITS that will help you become healthy now and in the future.

So now to address a few of your questions:

- Yep, I'm thin. Thin doesn't always mean HEALTHY. And I still have toxins and extra fat to lose. Eating clean will not be detrimental to my health in anyway. And I'm thankful to lose a little bit of weight, because well, I had it to lose. ;)

- It's called a detox because you are working on two things: limiting the amount of toxins you are bringing INTO your body. And using Arbonne's detox tea, probiotics, and 7-day-cleanse to help flush out the toxins currently stored in your fat and gut.

- As for the real food, I think my previous post explains what I'm eating. But yes, there are these yummy delicious protein shakes that are FABULOUS and really help cut cravings. It uses pea protein, rice protein, and cranberry protein. And it's chalk-full of essential vitamins and minerals. A few other supplements we have are helpful as well. But that is what they are -- supplements. The focus is still on eating whole, healthy, clean foods.

If you still need a few more examples, here you go! (Try not get too hungry!)

-As I explained earlier in this post -- or maybe, that's what this whole post is about to begin with -- NO, you do not eat this way forever. Just MOSTLY forever. ;) We recommend slowly introducing all of the items you did not eat back into your diet, ONE AT A TIME, to see how you respond. Then you can be educated about what you choose to eat. For instance, last time I did this, I realized all processed meats give me reflux. Because I know that, I can choose to eat something knowing it would make me not feel well. Or I can just forego it, and my tummy will thank me.

If you are interested in joining me for the February detox bootcamp, I'd love to have you. Email me at renyeart@gmail.com, and I'll send you all the info.

Deadline to sign up is Jan 31!

And wherever you are on your journey, I hope you find some wisdom in one VERY important last piece of advice:

Not the momma



My baby girl.
So proud of her, and proud to be her mommy.
 

Do you remember the baby dinosaur on the tv show that used to scream "Not the momma!!"

(If you need a reminder . . . here's a hint: https://www.google.com/search?q=dinosaur+not+the+momma&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=DIzZUrD5LczpoASfoYD4Cg&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAQ&biw=1440&bih=752#facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=Bx5o_N3CGS6qDM%253A%3B68OVJMrGDOi5yM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fsas.guidespot.com%252Fbundles%252Fguides_up%252Fassets%252Fwidget_aMMgBRO6jhGybBAivLqMum.JPG%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.guidespot.com%252Fguides%252Fwhatever_happened_to%3B290%3B271)

Lately, it feels like that crazy little dino is sitting on my shoulders screaming, "Not the momma! Not the momma!"

When we first got little miss, I totally FELT like her mom. And I was doing the mommy things. But over and over again, I was reminded in so many ways that I was not the momma.

I was FOSTER momma.

Big difference.

Things felt much better after parental rights were relinquished.

I remember the first (and last) visit little miss had with her bio parents. I was accustomed to hearing no details about the visit, other than "it went fine."

This time, I got a call a few minutes into the visit. "Would you like her to have chocolate syrup in her bottle?" the social worker asked. "Um, no I don't think that's a great idea. I'd rather her not have that much sugar," I responded, totally caught off that they would ask me, little old foster momma ME, what I would prefer during a visit. "That's what I thought," she replied. "We'll tell the parents no chocolate."

I hung up a little stunned, and a little happy. What a change.

I was on my way from being foster momma to adoptive momma. (Or pre-adoptive momma, according to some paperwork.)

And maybe things got to my head a little bit.

Maybe because I was told she'd be ours by now . . . maybe because I'm the one who wipes away all her poo, endures grocery shopping while she screams to the heavens for crackers, and holds her hands and head during a CT scan in the ER . . . maybe because emotionally, I am HER MOMMA  . . I let myself forget.

I am NOT her momma.

Last night, when I received the email saying we would not have the right to show little miss' face or name in the video we made, I burst into tears.

Ryan didn't understand why I was so upset. Maybe I didn't entirely either. I don't know why it matters to me so much. Except it does.

I have a feeling though, those tears had much more to do with everything going on and not just the video.

Let me back up a little from our day . . .

In the morning, we had our monthly social worker (G's) visit.

First, she came without disclosure. We've been waiting for disclosure for over a month, and all that paperwork I posted about won't be even submitted by the state till I have disclosure. (Disclosure is EVERYTHING that they have on file for Little miss's case that I get to look through. Family history, medical records, etc. will be in there.)

She already came once without it, now she's without it again.

Furthermore, the court date we had hoped would be adoption day will NOT be our adoption date. She thinks maybe a few more months?

I don't want it to be another few months. I want to get it over with.

Then G informed me that due to Little miss's fall, we'd been reported to CPS. She said it was likely our agency (something they have to do), or the doctor who made the report. She said that it was pretty standard for any injury in child under 3 that has to go to the ER, plus our agency would also have needed to report us.

Sigh.

G assured us that we would likely not be investigated, as she had been to our home enough to know how active and accident prone little miss was.

Still. It was hard to take thinking that we had been reported, even as it was "standard procedure."

A few minutes later, Maddy threw a ginormous fit -- throwing herself on the floor, screeching. And I'm thinking, really??? You're 5. Really? Right now?

So I pick her up, take her to time out, while she is hitting and kicking me.

And then I come back to my audience of the social worker who just said I had been reported to CPS.


Sigh. Tears.

As I fixed G's hot chocolate, I turn my back so a tear or two can escape my puffy, swelling lids, and I swallow back the rest.

Maddy eventually calms down. We get a NEW date for disclosure. G stays an hour. And at the very end, I excitedly let her know that we are sharing our story, and she is invited to come. I let her know that the state was setting up the meeting.

I had already talked to our agency about the producer wanting to put in on YouTube. But for whatever reason, I mention it to G.

"I'll have to check with my supervisor about this. You never know who might want to sue to state over something like this."

Deep, deep sinking feeling in my gut.

Why, oh why, did I say something???

Later that evening, we got the email that they would NOT give us permission to use on FB, and in addition, her photos and name must be blotted from the video to show at our church.

You all don't know the layout of the video -- but I do. I know there is power to those pictures. Power to our story. Her name and her face show her personhood.

Perhaps I don't like being told no. Maybe I hate senseless red tape. Maybe it frustrates me that I was feeling so sure that God was working everything out just so.

My sinking gut told me that Satan was going to do everything he could to stop this video being shown.

I know, I know what you are thinking. If it was going to be a problem, better to find out NOW and not later.

But I still can't help but be upset. I could make all my arguments as to why this is ridiculous. But I'll spare you. (Just know that I think it is.)

Again, it felt like a huge knock on the head by crazy dino. "NOT THE MOMMA! NOT THE MOMMA!"

Yesterday, in God's quiet voice, I felt Him asking me if I believed He was a God who would prevail.

I know He is.

I know He saw this supervisor's decision before the beginning of time. I know He had plans for our story, plans to use us for His glory. I know He's in control, and my freaking out about it really shows my immaturity in all of this.

And I'm also reminded that I'm still the momma in all the ways that DO matter.

I get to be there for her when she's upset. I get to take her to church, read her the Bible and pray over her while she sleeps. I get to pick out nutritious food for her, and make sure she naps every day. I get to have her play with Maddy, rock her, and teach her songs. I get to teach her new words, and open her eyes to new experiences.

I get to be the one who loves her.



So to everyone who witnessed my ginormous freak-out yesterday on FB, I'm sorry.

I think it's just showing me how much I'm ready to be her REAL momma in EVERY WAY . . . and to knock that silly dino back into the '90s where he belongs.

I'm so ready to BE THE MOMMA.

Adoption day . . . please come soon.

On making a movie

 

 

OK, I'm going to try to do a quick update since it's 12:15 in the morning, it's been an insane long day, and I have a very busy day ahead with two littles.

Today I filmed my story.

It took about 1.5 hours to get everything right for a 4-minute film.

That's right. 4 minutes.

Which made me totally appreciate everything that goes into a full-length feature film THAT much more.

And, it seems kinda crazy that I could try to fit, well, the entire contents of this blog into 4 teeny-tiny-oh-so-short minutes.

The cameraman/producer guy was super nice, although a perfect stranger.

The pastor's assistant at church coordinated everything and conducted the interview. (I'm sure she did more, and I certainly don't want to discredit any of her efforts. I think the whole video layout was really her idea.)

Once we realized we all love coconut in every form (especially the "coconut almond cream cake" tea form), we bonded. Yay coconuts!

So, why do this film anyway, you might wonder.

You should know that I didn't really want to.

RIGHT after our loss of Olivia, while at church, I pictured myself up there on the screen sharing our story. That was at our home church at the time, and I didn't know when or how I'd ever have the strength to share. But I knew that one day I would.

For months now, I felt like God was laying it on my heart to share my story again. I went to submit it a few times online, and for whatever reason, just never clicked that "submit" button.

At church one Sunday in December, they had people share their testimonies, and I felt like God was just telling me "THIS. THIS IS WHAT I WANT YOU TO DO!!" (It's hard to ignore Him when you feel like God is shouting.)
I seriously almost just went up to the pastor in the back to tell him I needed to share my story too. But my palms were sweaty, my heart was palpitating, and I worried what everyone (especially my husband) might think if I just randomly went up front and shared about our losses and God's redemption.

I didn't know. I just knew I needed more preparation. I did, however, go up to a pastor AFTER service and let him know God was asking me to share my story.

He called over the assistant, Lindsay. It was my first time meeting her, and it was weird to say, "Hi, my name's Rachel, and I feel like I need to tell the story of my miscarriages." Awk-ward. (even for church.)

We followed up by email later in the week, and I sent her this blog. She approached me about sharing for Sanctity of Life Sunday, which I readily agreed to. We also discussed if I wanted to do it in person, or if they could film me.

Since I hate crying (but I always do), and since I lose my voice when I cry (which I always do), I told her it seemed pointless to do it in person as I would likely just stand up there and cry. And have no words eek out.

She agreed. Doesn't make a lot of sense.

So we decided to film it here at our house.

It was a little more involved than I expected. I wrote out a VERY condensed version of our story, then cut it, then cut it some more. I sent her home videos, photos of the last 5 years, and she sent me back a "script" of sorts to go by.

Parts of filming today were really awkward. Other parts were easy breezy.There were parts I wished I could share more of, because there really is so much more. But she kept me on track. We had to do a few shots over and over.

Despite my background in theatre, this was nerve-wrecking. I worried about crying. I worried about looking to stoic. I worried (I think) about everything. (Except maybe the tea -- they all loved the tea!)

My hope, of course, is that God uses this to reach people who need it. People who need to follow through on this idea of fostering or adopting. People who need the idea put in their heads in the first place. Families who need the recognition that their miscarriage really was a precious life that deserves to be mourned. Women and men who feel isolated and alone in loss, and need to know that there is support out there for baby loss families. All of these people -- I hope to reach!


But I'm still a human, and I have a few hangups. This probably sounds weird, but I think I am more concerned about what people will think about the cleanliness/organization/design of my home interior than what they might think of me.

When she mentioned putting my blog's url address in the bulletin, I must admit I panicked. Maybe a little. I later told Ryan -- "Well, I can kiss a social life good-bye at church." It's weird to let people into your darkest days ever (even as I still have them) before I even know a thing about their good days!

In spite of the fact that I'd been feeling super depressed and anxious for the last two weeks . . . in spite of the fact that I didn't have a chance to clean the dishes before they came . . . in spite of the fact that I'm just this normal, super normal person with a difficult story . . . I'm hoping that some hope, some light shined through.

If I am going to have to LIVE this story -- of wanted babies lost too soon, infertility, struggle and wait -- and of two of my biggest little blessings ever, both wrought through seasons of fire --- then I might as well SHARE it.

Because who knows who will be sitting in that pew in a few weeks and needs to know they are NOT alone.