A Chapter to Our Story That We Didn’t Want to Write…

walking through a miscarriage

It was a Monday morning in November that started out with me oversleeping and Brad getting the boys ready for their school day. I awoke with swirling “what ifs” and questions that have haunted me throughout my infertility journey.  Despite being years down the road from being in the thick of the infertility battle, it’s not something that entirely goes away. There is still a “BROKEN” sign that remains permanently attached to your heart. As I struggled that morning with my “less than good enough” thoughts mixed with a little glimmer of what if it could someday be “fixed”, along with questioning some mild symptoms that I had falsely questioned so many times in my life before, I decided to combat it all with a quick pee on a stick in effort to make them all disappear.

{Mind you, Brad and I have been content with our family of six, and had no plans of adding to our family.}

It’s hard to explain if you haven’t walked this beaten down path, but sometimes you just have to see reality, even when you aren’t necessarily wanting anything to change.

I waited for two whole minutes with very little anxiousness or hope.  I had done this a million times before, and knew the drill well. Just get it over with, so I can delete these questions from my head.

But then an unmistakable positive sign appeared. 

My heart jumped from my chest. How would I tell Brad?  Do I tell him now?  How is he going to react?  What is this going to do to our family?  OH MY GOODNESS, I DIDN’T KNOW I COULD MAKE A PREGNANCY TEST TURN POSITIVE ON MY OWN!!!!!

I called Brad into our bedroom and he had THE BEST reaction I could have ever experienced. He was overjoyed. Together we were elated, even though we knew this was going to change everything. It was a beautiful memory as we held each other and shed tears together of surprise, joy, and thankfulness for this God-given gift of life.


At 5 weeks we experienced the joy of seeing the indescribable beauty of a beating heart, and the confirmation that this was in fact real. We celebrated with our doctor, ultrasound techs, nurse, and staff, that became like family to us during our scary high-risk pregnancy. I cherished our little secret for weeks, hiding sicknesses, and struggling through the mommy-guilt that life on the couch brings during the holiday season. Brad was so anxious to share our news with the world, but I urged him to patiently wait a little longer to make sure we were in the clear.

We had a follow-up scheduled for just after Christmas, but we decided to share our secret with our immediate family at Christmas.

We had no idea how the boys would react to this life-altering and unexpected announcement, but it was an incredible moment. Christmas afternoon was filled with joyful shouts, tight hugs, and a hundred “I can’t believe you’re having a BABY” audibles. Later on we shared happy tears, shocked expressions, and laughter with our parents and siblings, that made it a Christmas that will never be forgotten.


We looked forward to our 11 week appointment on January 8th to get one more confirmation before broadcasting our news. I had every sign of early pregnancy, and we couldn’t wait to get a peek at our baby again.

Instead of seeing a growing life and a beating heart, we looked at the ultrasound screen in disbelief and devastation, to see an empty placenta measuring 11 weeks.No heartbeat. No tiny baby swimming in my belly. No life.

The heaviness of grief over never getting to meet our child hit us hard as I lay on the table, and I watched Brad in the corner of the darkened room experience the pain of this loss of precious life. The once smiles and elation of our staff turned into many hugs, tears, and “I’m sorries”.  We walked out of the office in shock, filled with unanswered questions, and wondering how we would walk through this unbearable pain.


I planned on going home and waiting out the end of my pregnancy, but the days became unbearably long. After talking to several others who ended up having traumatic experiences of miscarrying late in the first trimester, we decided to schedule a D&C surgery. I wanted to put the physical part behind us, so that we could concentrate on the emotional impact. Although my D&C procedure went well, I ended up with several weeks of complications that have made the physical aspect of this loss very difficult.

Physically healing is gradually happening, but we are still in the midst the pain that comes with this loss.

We wanted to share this with you all, first to acknowledge this short life that we were able to experience. We are thankful for the gift we were given from the Creator of Life, and we are thankful that he/she is safe in His arms. 

Secondly, we wanted to share this pain with you because we know that we do not walk this road alone. 1 in 5 of you has experienced this incredible loss, and we grieve with you. I can’t begin to tell you how many times we’ve begun to share our story with close friends, who have unveiled their own losses with us.


Over the past few weeks we have wept, we have prayed, we have mourned, and we have struggled with physical healing. We are trudging through this grief one step at a time. We are being vulnerable with you because we know that God can use us through our brokenness, and we pray we can bring glory to Him even through this great sadness. Our lives look different than they did in November, December, or January, and we are trying to ease back into the dreaded “normal”, even though I wish life could stop until healing comes. Or maybe fast-forward through it all. 

Even when we wrestle with what to do with this all we believe in a God who makes no mistakes. A God who is not surprised. A God who sovereignly sees through our grief to a greater purpose. A God who would not waste our tears. A God who really is for us. A God who’s grace abounds in deepest waters

This winter has been so dark, and even the barren trees are a reminder of death. But spring will come along with its beauty. Beauty through death. Beauty through brokenness.


Thank you for your continued prayers and support. Thank you for allowing us to be vulnerable and exposed.  Thank you for walking with us. Thank you for allowing us to share this chapter of our lives, and our precious number “5’s” life with you. We have been honestly overwhelmed by your love for our family.

c.s.lewis quote about pain and God's best