A year ago today, I never could have imagined what this birthday would look like. I could barely get through 9/21/2016 without crying. A week prior to my 27th birthday I lost my first pregnancy.

In the months following, I dreamt of how I would tell Corey I was pregnant again when it happened, getting the nursery ready, and what it would be like to feel a first kick someday. I imagined all of these moments so vividly but it was still so hard to believe any of them could ever be real. I felt overwhelmed with guilt for being so undeservingly blessed, but still feeling an emptiness. I wrestled with the constant tug of the calling God gave me to be a mother, and the pull of it so easily becoming an idol. We prayed a lot in those months following; For a baby, yes, but mostly for completeness in Christ and contentment in the season we were in. The first month I let go of expectations and surrendered, God gave us Grace: Our sweet daughter, and truly the definition of the word.

My heart will always mourn the soul of the one we lost. There are so many of us who have experienced miscarriage, and I never realized how common and devastating it was until I went through it myself. It is isolating. When emotional situations arise, I notoriously “go into my shell” – as my best friend lovingly describes it, but I found myself consumed with grief and wanting to talk about it constantly but feeling like a burden if I did. It was by far the darkest time in my life and perhaps that’s why almost a year later, I still have hesitancy in sharing such a personal piece of our story.

But… there is always a sense of thankfulness for our rainbow and cherishing each and every flutter, elbow jab, and unpleasant symptom that reminds me our little one is with me. Her heart is next to mine, both of us so fragile.

Christmas Eve, Eve 2016


I miscarried 3 months prior to writing this. I remember feeling like I should have been over it at this point, and failed to be honest with those around me about how much I was struggling.

The holidays have a way of making everything beautiful look even more beautiful, and everything tragic feel even more tragic.


My heart aches today. Not as much as yesterday, but a little more than the day before.

That’s the thing about grief, you never know where or when it will find you. Grief doesn’t mind if you have things to cross off your to do list, events to attend, or if you have to make good on promises to show up. It undoubtedly reappears from thin air, leaving your insides twisted and your eyes welling, when moments ago the world felt still.

It’s avoiding places with too much happiness because it’s draining to pretend.

It’s long quiet drives.

It’s waking up each day feeling that you’re forgetting to do something.

it’s sitting in your car in parking lots, alone in tears because you don’t want anyone to see you this way.

My heart aches today. I hope it will ache less tomorrow.