Eight years ago today we experienced our hearts shattering with the news that our precious Evelyn had passed in utero. Everything about this third miscarriage felt beyond cruel and painful. A lot of the details were personal enough that I haven’t always shared them publicly, until today.

When we had our beautiful, firstborn daughter in 2008, we named her Ellenor and began dreaming of another daughter named Evelyn. Our next child was a son, our beloved Johnny, and we tucked Evelyn away as a dream in our hearts for seven years. 

When we decided to have more children in 2015, we first got pregnant with our son, Timothy. He would have been born October 7th, 2015, but we lost him to miscarriage in April earlier that year. Courageously, we decided to try again and conceived our long awaited Evelyn! We knew we were going to name her after my mom by giving her the middle name Ruth and I was so excited to share the news with her. 

On October 6th, 2015, we walked into a regularly scheduled second trimester appointment. It happened to be the same appointment we’d lost our son Timothy at six months prior. We could feel the trauma from before creeping in to haunt us, but walked in boldly declaring life over our girl, knowing we were due for a redemptive experience the day before our son would have been born. 

Instead, our absolute nightmare unfolded. The nurse couldn’t find a heartbeat with the doppler so then they brought in an ultrasound machine which showed Evelyn had passed five days prior, on my 30th birthday. Here we were facing another miscarriage, six months after losing Timothy and one day before his due date. Instead of celebrating the victory of bravely overcoming, we were shattered. Instead of calling my mom to unveil the name, I had to call to tell her that her namesake had died.

This was not just a loss of a pregnancy, it was the death of our daughter. Our daughter we’d dreamt about for seven years. It was also the death of Elle and Johnny’s sibling. The little sister they’d been so excited for after losing their little brother earlier in the year. We were confused and broken. The next week was Johnny’s 6th birthday and it took all we had to pause the deep grief to celebrate him. After that, we headed into the holidays and I dove into a personal dark night of the soul. I had to accept that I now lived in a world where innocent, wanted children- my children- can die on my birthday, all while praying for life and when we really needed a breakthrough. I had to accept that I would never hold Evelyn in my arms this side of Heaven, just like my two sons we’d also lost previously. The world suddenly seemed much more cruel, much less safe, and filled with so much pain. 

By Christmas of 2015, I had begun to accept that we’d been defeated. I had spent all of that year sick with pregnancy and/or sick with grief and loss. I didn’t have it in me to even consider going through more with no promise of a better outcome. Then Elle (7) and Johnny (6) came to me with a request that changed our lives: “Hey mom, we’ve been talking and we’d like to ask you to trust Jesus one more time and try for another baby?” I was floored. They’d clearly been impacted with the losses alongside us and we’d done a lot of grief work together. And yet here they were, asking my to grab onto Hope and try again. I knew that if I said “No”, they’d remember it for the rest of their lives. And if I said “Yes”, they’d probably never remember having asked. I was faced with the question, what kind of legacy and example do I want to leave for them? Do I want them to know they can always put their hope in Jesus?

By the beginning of January, we decided to try again and got pregnant with our Esther. Her due date was October 7th, same as her brother we’d lost a year prior. Her pregnancy was one of the hardest things we’ve ever been through. The fear of another loss was crippling at times. I was more physically sick than ever before and had multiple complications all the way through to 26 weeks. Five times we were told it wasn’t looking good. I had to take meds that I ended up having adverse mental side effects from. I spent most days struggling to get out of bed and function physically and emotionally. All the while, Brett was managing his own fear and grief and also picking up all of our personal and professional responsibilities I couldn’t carry. Being pregnant with our rainbow baby had many beautiful moments and blessings, but was no walk in the park. 

Then on October 3rd, 2016, we headed to the hospital with cautious excitement. We prepped for the scheduled c-section then walked into the most supernatural experience of God’s presence we had ever encountered. We had a playlist of worship songs playing. As the doctor began to deliver Esther the song “Emmanuel (God With Us Forever)” was playing when she erupted with loud, healthy screams, before her body was even out. The room, fully aware of our journey of loss all broke out in delightful laughter and joyous celebration. The last 22 months of sickness, grief, fear, and hardship had finally found its breakthrough. Esther Hope was born and with her arrival, our Hope was restored. 

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. Personally, it is also the month of our darkest loss and greatest breakthrough.  This first week of October is always full of big emotions for me. Grieving my three heavenly babies, and yet celebrating my four I get to raise here. Remembering what we’ve been through at a cellular level continues to bring seasonal waves of grief. And that’s okay. I can carry the ambivalence of all my gratitude and grief side-by-side. If you or someone you know has endured the horrific pain of losing a child during or after pregnancy, it’s okay for you to hold all the complex needs of grief and celebration, fear and desire, and so much more. It’s okay to name unborn babies and remember them with celebration, acknowledging them as the humans they are. Two of the kindest things that were ever done for me were my friends throwing me a Mother’s Blessing where they acknowledged all of my children and even wrote their names out and celebrated me as a mom of each of them. The other marker moment for me was when a friend wrote, “we are remembering and loving Evie Rue with you!” That friend gave my child a nickname. What a gift for a mom who won’t have her around long enough to do so. 

During our miscarriage season of hell, we endured pain I didn’t know was possible. We also experienced God’s nearness in ways we hadn’t previously. He showed up personally and beautifully day after day. We got to show Elle and Johnny what it looked like to put our trust in the King of Kings, and then walk out the trial set before us and find Him faithful throughout it all. Historically, I have shared primarily about God’s goodness in our trials, and I never want that forgotten or overlooked. But today, as I grieve my Evelyn Ruth, I also want to share the truth of how hard the nightmare of losing a child is. Jesus has never and will never leave or forsake me or you, but that does not promise you will not experience loss and heartbreak. If someone you know has lost a child, check in with them gently and acknowledge that you remember. God will get them through it, but they will likely never be over it.

This month, take a moment to light a candle in memory of the beautiful children you or others have lost. Remember the hopes and dreams that died along with the loss of those children. Ask about those children and tell friends that you remember them. For us, we acknowledge our heavenly babies in littles ways in each season. At Christmas they have stockings and ornaments. On their due dates, we acknowledge how old they’d turn here on earth and what they might like or be into. It’s not consuming, but they also aren’t forgotten. Our grief for the lack of time we had with them in our arms collides with the gratitude for the time I was trusted to carry them in my womb. It means so much when others also remember them. Most recently, 6 year old Esther made me a clay sculpture at a worship night of a mama bird with 7 eggs in her nest. “It’s you mama! And your babies!”  She remembered, and I will treasure it forever.

Isaiah 61.3 

“To grant those who mourn in Zion, Giving them a garland instead of ashes, The oil of gladness instead of mourning, The mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting. So they will be called oaks of righteousness, The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”

“Emmanuel (God With Us Forever)” Lyrics by Bryan & Katie Torwalt

Before You set the edge of time

Foundations of the earth and sky

You saw it all, You said that it was good

The joy was set before Your eyes

You knew that You would give Your life

You saw it all, You said that it was good

Behold, behold the One, our Love has come

Behold, behold the One, our King has come

The heavens warred, the earth stood still

His final breath, He tore the veil

The angels sang “Holy is His name”

Defeated death, He broke the grave

Our hope returned, the lost are saved

We lift our voice in never-ending praise

Behold, behold the One, our Love has come

Behold, behold the One, our King has come

Behold, behold the One, our Love has come

Behold, behold the One, our King has come

Emmanuel, God with us forever

Emmanuel, Savior of the world

Emmanuel, Emmanuel