There are certain days in my life that I consider some of the happiest days of my life. 

April 6th, 2018 was one of those days. 

As I sat there staring at this white piece of plastic, these two little lines showed up. The two lines that confirmed, yes, I was going to be a mommy! I couldn’t believe it. I ran to tell my husband the news. 

We were both in such awe and wonder that we were about to embark on this journey of parenthood. 

April 26th we had our first doctors appointment. We couldn’t contain the excitement. It was time to see our little baby for the first time, and to hear the heartbeat. The doctor started the ultrasound. After a few minutes she stopped and said she couldn’t find what she was looking for. She said we might just be really early and needed to wait one more week to come back. And in the meantime I had to go get some blood work done. 

A week later at our next ultrasound nothing improved, and my numbers did not go up. The doctor came in to prepare me for my worst nightmare. 

She came in and told me that I would possibly miscarry within the next couple weeks. 

I held onto hope, I held onto peace, I held onto Jesus. 

There were so many people praying for our baby. Every second of everyday I declared life and health over our baby. 

A week went by and I still felt great. Nothing abnormal was happening. May 9th my husband and I traveled to go visit his family. 

While we were there we told the rest of his family we were adding a new member to the family. Hugs were exchanged, happy tears were flowing out. It was my favorite news I had ever told anyone.

The evening of Mother’s day, everything turned around. I started bleeding and I knew it was happening. 

I was so confused in that moment. Do I pray that God would do a miracle and that my baby would hold on. Do I not give up and still believe that my baby is alive? 

Or was I supposed to let God prepare my heart for what was about to happen? 

Nothing in the world would have prepared me for this. 

I had been growing this little life inside me…and now it’s dead. The emotions flooded every part of my body and all I could do was weep in my husbands arms. 

How could this happen? I did everything I was supposed to do. I ate the best food, I worked out, I prayed for our baby every day and night. I was given this child, but now my baby is being taken away from me? 

Even though I had all of these questions running through my head, I never stopped saying “God I still believe you are good, and I still love you and trust you.” 

I let everything out. I didn’t hold back I cried it all out that night. The really really ugly type of cry. 

The next 24 hours ended up being the most excruciating physical pain I had ever experienced in my life. It was hard and painful but God was there. 

The following days I felt like I went through hell and back. I would have a good day, then the pain came again. I was so over it. I just wanted it to be all over. 

There are so many women who go through this. I think since it’s so common people discount the emotional trauma that comes when going through a miscarriage. I had such an internal battle with myself during this. I would ask myself, “is this really that bad?”

Then I gave myself permission to grieve and feel. To realize yes, this is definitely the hardest, most painful and horrific thing I had ever gone through. 

I had to stop comparing what I was going through to what other people are dealing with. 

I couldn’t rate on a scale of 1-10 how bad this really is. 

The biggest question I wrestled with was why did God let this happen. 

I don’t know. And I may never know. 

But I couldn’t sit and dwell on this. Not knowing why and trying to figure it out only causes frustration and anger. 

I had to just rest in the fact that God is still a Good God. He is who He says He is. 

We all grieve and process differently. For me, I did 3 things to help the healing process: 

1. I talked and cried it out with my husband. I am an external processor and I have to talk it out to feel relief. 
2. I got in the word and reminded myself who God is. Doing this didn’t give any room for the enemy to come in and twist my thoughts around on the goodness of God.  
3. I wrote the story. Everything I was feeling went onto paper. 

Even though the outcome was very different than we had hoped, we came out victorious and stronger than we were before. 

My husband and I now have a little baby in heaven. 

Victory Strength Paul.